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The Silk Road
Category: Historical
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
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 train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
The end.