The damp misty breeze remained outside when Kael closed the church door, but the cold—the kind that crept up his spine—did not leave him. The silence inside the temple was thick, dense, as if it swallowed every step, every breath. The interior was lit only by the faint gray light filtering through the cracked stained-glass windows, casting restless shadows on the walls.
Kael examined the place carefully.
The wooden benches were overturned, some broken in half, others with claw marks, as if a desperate struggle had taken place in that sacred space. There were candles lying on the floor, some still melted on the edges of the altar steps. A censer hung from the ceiling by a twisted chain, swaying slightly... even though there was no wind.
