Once a place of sacred worship, the Broken Chapel now stands as a solemn relic of Shadowgrove’s forgotten past. The shattered stained-glass windows, though broken, still hold fragments of vibrant color, catching the dim light that filters through. The interior is quiet, its shadowy expanse illuminated by soft beams of light that accentuate the weathered stone walls and high, vaulted ceilings.

A few old pews remain, their once-polished wood now dulled and splintered by time. Some are slightly broken, but they stand neatly in their original arrangement, a faint echo of the chapel’s former reverence. Despite its decay, the space feels serene, imbued with a lingering sense of dignity. The air carries a faint chill, the smell of damp stone and age, while silence cloaks the interior, broken only by the creak of a shifting beam or the distant whisper of the wind.

The Broken Chapel has become a refuge for those seeking solace from the dangers lurking in Shadowgrove. Though no longer adorned with the grandeur of its prime, it holds an unspoken promise of sanctuary—a place where even despair is met with quiet reverence.

Clergy: Father Colvin