The halls of the Cathedral stood silently among the shadows as the light of dusk seeped in through stained glass windows. A thin layer of dust covered the interior of the structure, masking the once Holy place with an aura of emptiness and abandonment. A cracked layer of marble rested beneath the dust, its fissures showing through to the black iron hidden throughout the grand pillars and flooring. No living thing had entered the Cathedral for centuries, yet it was not completely empty this time.

Sitting on the front-most pew, clutching a jewel encrusted cane in his wrinkled hands, a man could be seen. He wore a black cotton cloak, trimmed in gold thread and lined in crimson silk. His clothes were of finely tailored fabrics and golden jewelry, a status of royalty long forgotten. The man's bright white hair and bushy beard would have made him look rather hospitable, had it not been for his eyes. Bleak and unforgiving, the man's eyes showed no emotion, just cloudy white orbs, as if blinded by his old age. Yet the man saw more than most ever could. He knew there were others coming, and he knew why. He simply needed to wait for their arrival.

He was very good at waiting.