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The Silk Road
Category: Historical
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
The end.