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The Last Crusade
Category: Historical
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.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
The end.