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Crown of Thorns
Category: Historical
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke 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.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
The end.