 You. By what are you called? You should tell her. Why? Are you... are you my Nama? I beg your pardon? In battle, you shone with all the majesty of the full moon's light. Your healing touched the embodiment of the dusk mother's love. Long had I wondered if my Nama might not be a woman of the steppe. Beholding you, I am all but certain. Now, look into my eyes. Could it be? Could you be? I am. Not interested, little son. Try again when you've become a man. Little? Does it pain you, little son? Crave yourself to soothe the ache. Fire to sear the wound in your heart. We have wasted enough time here. Serena waits for word of our success.