The Forgotten Chapel loomed before them like a tomb sealed by time and silence. Andrew's breath came shallow, a mist swirling in the cold air as he stepped cautiously across the cracked stone threshold. Behind him, Marrow's shadow slid silently...always close, always watchful.
Inside, the shattered stained-glass windows cast jagged shards of dim light that fractured across broken pews and shattered pillars. The air was heavy with a forgotten sorrow, thick with the scent of damp stone and decayed wood. Every footstep stirred dust motes that drifted like restless spirits, suspended in the chilling stillness.
Andrew's fingers curled tighter around his dagger's hilt, his eyes scanning every shadow. The chapel felt alive, not in a way of welcome, but of watchful hunger. The silence was too deep, too complete. It felt like the calm before a storm that could rip them apart.
Marrow's voice cut through the silence, low and sharp. "They're here. The Choir of Echoes."
