The circular room is dimly light by candles adorning the walls. Enthroned on the raised dais in the center of the hall is a dark man adorned in brilliant red robes. Around him, kneeling in reverence, are various black-cloaked figures, gazing at their soon-to-be leader.
From the main entrance comes a man. He, too, is cloaked, but, unlike the others, in a shroud of green. He strides purposefully towards the throne, walking the aisle in silence, his face hidden by shadow. The genuflecting supplicants turn their unseen eyes towards this newcomer, not in surprise, but in anticipation.
The green wanderer reaches the throned man. They look at each other, knowing what is to come. Wordlessly, the interloper reaches into his cloak and pulls out a flaming torch, illuminating the marble construction of the room in a radiant light. He holds it aloft, reaching towards the heavens, before disappearing in a flash of red and green sparks, leaving nothing in his wake.
The room is silent. The red-robed man reaches down and grabs the still-shining torch which has fallen to his feet. Standing, he raises it in the manner of the old king. The others stare in wonder, eyes full of tears. A new era has dawned.