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Sword of Destiny
Category: Historical
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The end.