Halea's pipe flares, letting off a string of smoke. As she speaks, she describes a scene Vanna remembers all too well.
Halea: You've never been much of a PRAYING woman, Vanna Lorelai Morena, but your thoughts DID reach me once: April 12, 4993, at 8:34 PM.
A vision comes into view. A boat on its side, having trailed water across a bed of stones. In its shadow, a woman sits in the protective light of a revenite lantern, holding something.
Halea: You had skidded your boat into a rocky cave under Nomurai Rock, and in your trembling arms, you cradled the tiny body of your newly-seabitten son.
The vision of younger Vanna holds Pavel - his face unseen, but his hair bone-white - and looks up to nothing, screaming with tears in her eyes.
Halea: In your grief, you cried to me, and I heard you. 'He's only THREE! How could you let this happen? Save Pavel! Bring my Leon back! PLEASE! I will do anything in exchange for them! Please!' Et cetera. Et cetera.
The vision of Vanna buries her face in Pavel's hair, looking bewildered and blank, as if searching for an answer, trying to reason her way out of this nightmare.
Halea: No one else could've possibly heard you. Your radio was dead, and the nearest living person was miles away. But I was there. I am ALWAYS there. Listening. Hearing. But I do not help. Because like every other insect of your kind, you don't deserve it.
