The moment of wonder Ileana found at her abrupt, unexpected power of flight quickly ended as she realized that she couldn't fly. And then, worse: The abrupt certainty that everyone here was gone, dead, except for her and the three men. Those who fought Grakthar. Those who stood up in the face of utter hopelessness, and said "No more." Tears strained at her eyes as she realizes the cost of her actions, then they hardened. A blazing fire of hope, rage, fear, and an utter certainty of what had to come next.

Used to the dark from her time in the mine, the small child, dressed in rags, almost genderless, speaks again. Her voice, although high, seems to echo with her certainty, informed by her newly expanded mind. "If we leave, they'll kill everyone. They can't let anyone know what happened here. That they can be fought. That they can be beaten." Her voice darkens for a moment, the rage and hatred contained within it unmistakable. "That we can kill them. We killed Grakthar, their leader, before... this. Now? We can kill them all, and keep killing them until they're all dead, and we're safe. We can avenge Momma, and all those that they've tortured, that they've tormented." Her voice rises in pitch, but almost becomes a whisper. "If we just run and hide, what was the point? We have to finish this."
Her voice falls silent, the echos fading from the dark, dank cave, the eternal resting place of so many lives. "I know where they kept their weapons, their armor. And I'm good at not being noticed."