Some doors had collapsed or were perhaps destroyed by looters or animals as time passed. Either way they left a welcoming entrance for animals. There were signs of fires, in some cases it was merely a trail of soot and smoke above a window pane, in others it was a pile of ash where once a building stood.
Kirekwall, once a growing community of hundreds of families was now but an eerie shell of its former self. Were it not for the occasional bird call the only sounds in this town was that of the wind. The sounds of market vendors, playing families and a loving community were no more.
In an almost sick sense of irony the museum, once home to relics from the past discovered and recovered by archaeologists from around the world, was now once again lost and forgotten. Waiting to be found by those who come next.
You couldn’t help but feel lost in this town now, even if you knew exactly where you were. It was a lonely place with only distant memories of what once was. But there was an awful feeling of hopelessness you couldn’t escape from. Even if those who lived here returned too much had been lost already and it’d never be the same again.
