Dust motes dance in the single beam of light piercing the cathedral's gloom. At the far end of the hall, before a sealed stone doorway, the Iron Sword Skeleton stands as still as a statue. As your boots crunch on the debris-strewn floor, its head snaps in your direction, the blue lights in its sockets flaring intensely. With a sound like grinding tombstones, it raises its colossal sword, its one and only purpose clear: you shall not pass.
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