"Grandmaster Gryndor!" a woman clad in a white robe called out as she approached the grandmaster.
"I—" she began to speak but suddenly froze, her gaze flickering to the pillars in the cathedral.
"Weren't there supposed to be thirteen? Why are there only twelve here?" she muttered, confusion evident on her face. Then realization struck her.
"Grandmaster Gryndor… your granddaughter—"
"She has either done the impossible by traversing the death zone with only Olivia and Eric," Gryndor interrupted her, his voice grim, "or she has met her end in there." He clenched his fists tightly.
"This wasn't supposed to take so long. Everyone believed that liberating a cathedral was a pipe dream, that they would return within a few days," he muttered in frustration.
"But they haven't returned for a month already… I shouldn't have let her go. I'm a failure of a grandfather."
