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The Last Crusade
Category: Historical
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
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.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
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.