So it was true! the Sovereign Marshall thought, brain boiling at the thought of it, at the sight of it! He couldn’t even comprehend what he was seeing, he was a mixture of terrible loss and churning rage. Judge Dench took a few steps back from the Marshall. The Marshall was angry. Things broke when he got angry.
The Marshall forced himself to take another look at what once was the Fountain of Youth. Completely sucked dry, all water gone, vegetation withering, complete decay. The Marshall had never actually payed attention to the surrounding beauty of the Fountain, but now, he could see nothing but the lack of it.
His inhuman cry echoed off the mountain, through the city, off the Grand Tower, resounding with fury. Judge Dench cowered behind a dead tree.
Suddenly, a slight tremble shook the summit, big enough to knock both men to their feet. The Marshall looked as if he had just woken from a trance. “Did I do that?” he asked.