Suddenly, the marching is deafening. John turns his head in the direction of what sounds like an army and watches as 8 cloaked men come out, their palms splayed and their eyes covered. Their feet are bare and calloused and sticking out of the cloak is a beak. An eagle beak. The figures circle them, shoving stragglers into the center the sound of marching shaking the ground. The creatures close their palms and the sound stops. But when they splay their hands again a ball of white hot flame races towards them. John covers his face and waits for death. But it never comes. Instead him and the others are standing in a grand room, with a round, ten chaired table at the center. Standing in front of them is a tall, beautiful woman, smiling at them as if their teleportation was a common occurence.