Skip to content
Crown of Thorns
Category: Historical
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 market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The end.