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Empire’s Fall
Category: Historical
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The end.