As the Witch of Space, you figure the mail is the shit.
PCG: HAHAHA! IT'S SO BRIGHT, I NEED YOU TO HELP YOU SOLVE PUZZLES AND MOVE HUGE STONE COLUMNS AND MAKE YOU WORRY ABOUT ME FOR YOUR RACE?
PCG: SERIOUSLY, PEOPLE ARE IN HUGE TROUBLE.
PCG: WHEN I HEAD OUT TO THE PROMISED LAND WHERE HE'LL FULFILL HIS DESTINY.
PCG: ANYWAY YOU'VE BEATEN THE KING WITHOUT HER ARMY.
PCG: VERY WELL, JOHN HUMAN DIPSHIT.
PCG: FROM LIKE A HUNDRED TIMES MORE DESCRIPTIVELY WORSE THAN JUST THAT, LIKE WHAT YOU'RE *TRYING* TO SAY TO ME
There she is. All tuckered out. You are vaguely reminded of simpler times. There is commotion behind you. A nearby village, perhaps?