Far across the flat lands remains a town of halfway burned down homes and the crippling architecture of a church. Encompassed by purposely laid trees providing an illusion of a protective field for the town. Most of the terrain was burdened and laden by lifeless foliage. The entrance gate laid splintered on the ground, like it had been broken down by an army. Outside the homes laid stools, pots, pans, and weathered clothing of the past inhabitants.
In the center of the town stands alone, a small well. It appears untouched and still of use. The bucket sat neatly on the side of the walls, still tied to the lowering lever. A curious finding, since most towns had their wells built away from town closer to a river or a creek. A few homes still stand, the doors hanging off the frame. Inside the rooms appear to have been plundered. The dinning table is flipped on its side and chair strewn across the room. Pieces of fabric are scattered on the ground but nothing of value or use remains.
The west side of the sanctuary's wall has been burned away, but it still stands broken, at the end of the town. Golden candelabras were rusting away along with torn pages of the bible and hymnals across the wooden altars. Miraculously, a gold cross wrapped with a purple sash still hung unaltered above the priest's preaching stand. At the side of the stand is a roll of parchment sealed with a wax symbol of Judas's goblet from the last supper. An unread message, left in the abandoned town of Cymboltia.
