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Empire’s Fall
Category: Historical
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The end.