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The Romanov Diary
Category: Historical
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The end.