Amos stands stalwart on the stairs.

Amos: And YOU know I have no choice.

Euphemia: Rubbish. We ALWAYS have a choice. Thousands of years and thousands of lies. But someone has ALWAYS dared to resist her. If they had all been as cowardly as YOU, I would be none the wiser.

Euphemia glares at Amos over her glasses.

Euphemia: Your son is dead, Amos. My granddaughter is dead. This world is a graveyard of Cheline's own making. The creature you're helping is no goddess. She's an EXECUTIONER.

Amos looks down at her, unflinching.

Amos: And who am I to stop the fall of her axe? Pharos would be alive if he had obeyed. If I am a fool, then I am less a fool than he. The Mother Goddess has descended from her throne to bring us a long-awaited GIFT, and if my son's life is the price, then so it must be.

Euphemia raises her cane in Amos's face, gesticulating wildly.

Euphemia: GIFT?! You think Cheline LIKES us enough to give us GIFTS? You think she's up there now, wrapping it in sparkly paper? Sticking a big pink bow on top? Whatever plan she's hatching, it's not a GIFT at all. And if it's what I THINK it is, I'll have your head!