Ophelia must admit, she is incredibly glad to not be trapped here alone. Her entire body aches in phantom pain, no physical injuries but hurting all the same, ghosts from a past she thought she left long behind. She braces herself against a counter, pain creased in her brow as she allows her head to hang low for just one moment, before forcing her spine straight. Whatever is happening, even if it feels as if she is one large bruise, she must be strong. They all must be. The furies congregate close together, and Ophelia turns her attention towards the eldest of the three. “I don’t know what is happening,” she admits, pained not only physically but also in her pride, as she grits her teeth. “How is this possible? I cannot leave.” The Underworld is cut off, out of reach, and she cannot flee to escape whatever this is. She looks to Sela, almost like a child looking to their mother, for an answer, for a solution.