I've no clue what the Hunger Games are, but they sound awful. The locals believe we're powerful beings, brought here to help them. And so they revere us a bit. There are times of the year the council asks that we indulge them. Sometimes that means they ask us for a special blessing, or for guidance.

[ If it's starting to sound like they're the gods, Daisy might be onto something. As the magic begins to fade, healing done, Claire exhales. This is the most she's done at once, and she feels the ache in her bones of actual creeping exhaustion. ]

We were all forced to gather, all of the Summond, and then we passed out and shared a collective...alternate reality. We were gods. All of us, elevated to some sort of higher status. We were the ones with shrines and alters, and we knew no better. We thought it was normal and real, for centuries. We lived 800 years while we were unconscious in the Pit for weeks.

[ This is alarming, she knows. ]

We try to look out for one another. When I said you won't be forced into anything, I meant by us, by the locals. If there's anything we're compelled to do by the Singularity, most, if not all of us, are forced into it together.