The temple loomed ahead, a gleaming edifice of marble and gold that stood in stark contrast to the increasingly grim streets of Chashire. As Fenrir and Maric approached, a pair of temple guards stepped forward to block their path.
One of them, a burly man with an air of self-importance, sized Fenrir up with an almost pitying sneer. His gaze lingered on Fenrir's wheelchair, and his expression soured. "We don't allow people like you on sacred grounds," he said, his tone dripping with disdain. "Your presence could offend God."
Fenrir tilted his head, his calm demeanor unbroken. "People like me?"
The guard gestured dismissively at Fenrir's wheelchair. "The unclean. The crippled. It's not personal—just temple policy."
Maric bristled, his fists clenching at his sides. "You've got some nerve—"
