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The Romanov Diary
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.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The end.