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The Romanov Diary
Category: Historical
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
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.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
The end.