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The Romanov Diary
Category: Historical
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
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.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
The end.