Unafraid, you stand to meet Mother's gaze. You are not a girl, not anymore, and you will be heard. Fighting, surviving for over two centuries has forged you into a mighty woman and a peerless warrior. She cannot silence you, not today, and never again. Gathering your courage, you speak your mind with no concern for the consequences.

"This is your doing, Mother. You have gone mad, and it is through you that we are ruined. I am guilty of nothing, and-" your assertion will forever go unfinished. Age has not slowed mother, nor has it tempered her aggression. Her hand shoots toward you, forcefully seizing a lock of your hair before you can even think to dodge. With a single firm tug, you suddenly find yourself floored, looking up at Mother from an even lower position that you were moments prior.

The crunch of shattering bone is accompanied by an agonizing pain originating from just above your ear, causing your world to blur momentarily. Disoriented, you frantically rack your brain in order to determine what exactly is happening. Mother must have kicked you - and you will be needing the help of a priestess to mend the new dent in your skull. It would seem that regardless of how much you've grown, she is always able to handle you as easily as a parent manages a child.