The shrine was exactly how Rowan remembered it, damp and cold, filled with an unspeakable emptiness that made it difficult to focus on anything other than the hollow feeling in his chest. Rain fell in a misty curtain outside the broken window, adding to the chill in the air.
Along one wall stretched a bare altar, made from stone the same bleak grey as the sky outside. The myriad of carvings that covered the front of it locked together in such a way that Rowan couldn't tell exactly what they were. A solitary, half-melted candle lay on the ground in the corner. It used to be white, but now it was colored with dust and neglect, just like the rest of the place.
Alaric released a slow breath as he finally listened to Rowan and tried to relax.
"Are you okay?" Rowan tore his eyes from the ruined altar with its intricate carvings to make sure the breath he'd just heard wasn't the precursor to his brother fainting.
