"Who are you?" She whispered.
"I am myself." The figure replied, and Mara recognized the voice as the one that had first
called to her.
"Are you the King?" She asked, a little louder this time.
"Why did you call me? Where am I?"
"I answered you, Mara, as I have always done. This was the first time you listened for my
voice, and the sound of it brought you to me."
"Brought me to you? How could the sound of a voice do that?"
"Because my voice came from me."
"But that's impossible! A voice can't do that. You would have to be... have to be... be..."
"I would have to Be."
"Be God, I suppose." She said softly.
"You're... real. Are you really real? How do I know you really are God?" Mara asked quickly,
anger and fear making her voice squeak and crack.
"Mara." The King said her name simply, sternly, and Mara felt every part of her respond to
the sound of that voice. Mara's entire being resonated with sound of that voice saying her
name, like with that one word she became herself. She felt like her life quivered with real,
terrifying, anticipation from the depths of herself that she didn't know existed. Yet there
was disappointment in the voice of the King, and it made her feel guilty, heartbroken,
and Mara was not quite sure why. Mara did know that she never wanted to hear that tone
used towards her again.
"Why?" was all she could whisper.
"I have called you to speak with you face to face. Tell me what you accuse me of."
"I... I... I, um, said that you forgot about me... And, um, the promise we made."