Skip to content
The Last Crusade
Category: Historical
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The end.