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Crown of Thorns
Category: Historical
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
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.
The end.