The rain poured like no tomorrow, each droplet glinting momentarily in the light of Erik and Valcroy's candles as they threatened to send those raindrops back to the clouds if they dared to touch them. Lightning clawed through the sky above, illuminating the narrow path that led to the shrine. The air crackled with tension, heavy with unspoken anticipation.
Valcroy increased his pace instinctively, but was stopped by Erik, who placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. Telling him not to do what he was thinking about, angering the spirits, was not something they wanted at the moment. They had to remain calm, because he had a feeling that he wouldn't be soon, it was like he was accumulating his anger, ready to burst out when needed.
Soon, the silhouette of the shrine became more firm, towering and shrouded in the misty haze of the downpour.
