Was this practice? The intensity in her gaze suggested she reveled in it, blurring the line between role and reality.
"Goblins, my children"' Lyra intoned, her voice a hypnotic chant. "We stand at the threshold of ascension! The pinnacle of evolution awaits. Flesh remade, hunger eternal, power unbound! Praise the Mother who births your glory!"
The goblins surrounding her chittered in agreement, raising crude idols and chanting her name. "Wendigo Mother! Eternal hunger! Glory! For the Mother! For the Mother! For the Mother!"
