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The Dragon’s Hoard
Category: Fantasy
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
The end.