Oracle: Lady of the West

Why do you speak ill of the dead?
Why do you speak ill of Me?
What am I to you?
Am I your plaything?
Am I your puppet?
Who do you think I am, child?
I am a Goddess, dear child.
I am a God.
This is My species
Just as human is yours.
What do you think you are doing, dear child?
My name is not a plaything
It is not something you call out in jest
Why do you speak ill of the dead, dear child?
They who came before you
who strived and fought for you
so you could enjoy the luxuries you have today
If you call out to Me
if you honor Me at all
Honor your dead
For I keep them safe in My Hall of Amenti
as Lady of the West