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The Painted Veil
Category: Historical
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 stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
A knock at the door changed everything.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The end.