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The Painted Veil
Category: Historical
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The end.