Silence. The bells slowly stop tolling and the cathedral falls into an ominous quiet. You and Burt look at each other with worried eyes as you follow Allard through the large wooden doors to the narthex. Stone rubble and broken glass lie scattered across the floor. The doors to the main hall have long since fallen from their hinges. Though darkness consumes the structure, the full moon glistens through the broken stained glass and dilapidated doorway.

“You sure Sprinkles didn’t cast some spell on me?” groans Burt as the party steps back out into the street, now flooded with the crimson glow of the setting sun. “I sure feel light-headed.”

“I’d love to say you’re just plain lazy, Burt,” says Allard. “But really, you’re exhausted. Coming into this after all that fuss at the Shuffle. We’ve still a long way ahead, so you better take care of yourself.”