Melisandra tosses two sunrods into the lonely church, casting their golden glow across the wood and stone interior. With the shadows banished, the state of the church becomes apparent, much what you suspected: built with care now marred with neglect, with significant foot traffic on the stone floors, careless and messy, and in the main room rows of long benches become visible. No doubt the rest of the chamber is also illuminated, but from their current angle the group cannot see much more than they could before. The church creaks softly with age, and maybe movements of inhabitance, deeper inside.