A ring of people stood in a dark room under a bright spotlight, the image of an island floating in the centre. Beyond was a fog, in it vague shapes of other people could be seen moving, and a faint murmur of voices formed a low background noise.
A tall, bearded man turned to Cassandra. “Pandora,” addressing her by her real name, “you’ve done well this time.”
“Thank you, Lord,” she replied.