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The Dragon’s Hoard
Category: Fantasy
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
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.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
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.