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The Samurai’s Honor
Category: Historical
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The end.