Roland City, Saint Roland Cathedral.
The sacred hall once symbolizing the purity and devotion of the Ryan Kingdom now resembled a graveyard haunted by ghosts.
Hoarse roars replaced the choir's hymns, casting a layer of spine-chilling dread over the holy stained glass.
"Marinus! Where did you go? I command you, get out here immediately!"
The stumbling old man weaved through the pews.
He reached the altar, gripping the marble railing tightly with hands, his aged skin concealing blood vessels on the verge of bursting.
Marinus did not appear.
Only his own echo responded to Theoden.
The "Hand of the Late King," usually a shadow by his side, seemed to have vanished from the mortal world, with no news for a long time.
Theoden turned abruptly, scanning the grand hall behind him, holding onto a last shred of hope to recover his lost trump card from the shadows of the marble columns.
But reality proved it all futile.
