The chaotic, disorderly wind blew over from the distant land of phantoms, kicking up gray-white fine sand, raising dust between the collapsing altar and throne. Within the dust, countless ancient phantoms seemed to rise and fall, only to vanish into thin air with the next sandstorm. The goddess on the throne gazed calmly and longingly at the occasional apparitions among the sands. Her voice, dignified yet seemingly laced with melancholy, finally sounded between the heavens and the earth: "Indeed, Mr. Great Adventurer, we've stayed in this place too long, making many things seem blurred, including what we once valued and cared about... all disperse like dust in the wind."
Wilder's voice sounded quite surprised: "Lady, you can be melancholic from the passage of time and things?"
