The bells of Solvantar's Temple echoed across the mountain peaks, their chime a solemn herald to all who served within its sacred halls.
The temple, ancient and towering, stood as a bastion against the howling winds; its spires, crowned with gold filigree and thorny vines carved from the marble, reached toward the heavens as though in supplication to Solvantar, the god of fate and divine retribution.
From the Central Temple, the quiet murmurs of devotees and patrons exiting the temple after the mass ended were carried by the wind, delivering them to the lone man walking the tranquil hallways of East Temple, the one to the right of the Central.
Once everyone had exited, Priest Kaelwyn Solmere stood at the base of the altar and did his morning rites. His eyes closed as he recited the final words, as his silver hair, bound loosely at the nape of his neck, caught the morning light filtering through the stained glass windows depicting Solvantar's many trials.
