Little remains of the squat, stone structure, but one can discern its previous silhouette: a chapel of sorts, with a soaring bell tower and wide, oaken double doors. Decades, possibly centuries, have passed since its toppling. One wonders—was it the slow, inexorable march of time that brought the chapel down, casting its stones to the surrounding fen and allowing the soft, grasping earth to reclaim its foundations? Or was it a sudden calamity, a world-ending storm that toppled the belltower and sundered the walls? Either way, the ruins now house only shadows and slinking predators.
