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Empire’s Fall
Category: Historical
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The end.