Anduin frowns as the stairs creak underneath Wrathion's weight and then his own. The building does not appear as though it will fall apart around them, but there is something about the sound that unsettles him.

"It could be," Anduin considers in return. "Although memories are made in both good and bad ways. It makes me wonder what this place might have been, for it to have become such a thing for him."

Anchored there as an imprint of happier days, before the disease began to spread? Or to mark the suffering, the loss that was no doubt suffered afterward.

Glancing around the building as he steps inside after Wrathion, Anduin shivers.

"I cannot help but feel as though we are being watched," he explains.