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The Last Crusade
Category: Historical
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The end.