Skip to content
The Last Crusade
Category: Historical
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
The end.