(3rd person) Nobody's POV
The chamber doors had scarcely closed behind Seraphina and Elias when hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Priest Darien pushed inside, breath short from haste.
He halted.
This was not what he had expected.
Upon the polished marble floor, robes tangled and rings glinting against stone, knelt His Holiness, Pope Miguel. Both palms were braced against the ground. His broad shoulders trembled, not with weakness, but with fury. His teeth ground together heard in the silence of the chamber.
"Your Holiness!"
Darien rushed forward at once. Assisting the Pope was no simple task. His Holiness was a man of considerable presence, his ceremonial vestments layered thick with gold thread and heavy embroidery. His strap strained against the silk, and lifting him required both effort and caution.
After an undignified struggle, Darien managed to help him stand up.
