Hesitantly, Margaret takes Ariues' hand and gasps softly when everything seemed so much clearer, as if a fog she hadn't known existed had settled over her senses all this time. She accidentally squeezes his hand tightly, unsettled by the change. She blinks twice, then instinctively intertwines her fingers with his. Her breathing evens out, and she smiles at the Druid. "Are there others like you? Others the Undead have despoiled?" she asks kindly.