"Please wait, Lady Titania!" one of the clerics cried, her voice strained with desperation as she jogged, breathless, across the polished marble steps of the Sacrosanctum. Her shoes tapped loudly with each hurried step, echoing beneath the arched golden canopy that stretched above the main hall.
Titania didn't slow. Her strides were precise and sharp, the rhythmic sound of her armored heels thudding against the stone like an impatient war drum. Her cloak billowed behind her in irate waves, streaked with the white and crimson of the Holy Order, though even their vibrant colors couldn't lighten the stormy expression she wore. The great golden gates of the Sacrosanctum loomed before her etched with symbols of divine heritage, the wings of angels cradling a sunburst of burning silver.
