Marika looks at you as you enter the room. She sits upon her throne, surrounded by the thrones of her demigod children. Her gold piercing eyes stare into yours, no emotions are expressed on her slim face. She rest her slender arms on the armrests. Her golden flowing hair glides down off her shoulders, her black dress draped over her form.

“Denizen of the Lands Between, state thy business with me.” Marika says in a cold steely tone, portraying no hint of any emotion.