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Ashes of the Past

I cupped the top of the rock with a hand that was larger now and darkly tanned. Ridges and scars decorating my skin almost blended in to the rough surface of the rock’s face.

It was strange to come home. I had never dreamed that I’d return. Even left on its own, the garden was mostly how I remembered it- rocks of all shapes and sizes set near flowering bushes. An unseen stream supplied the garden with tranquil music.

I tipped the rock over onto its side, exposing the secret place I had discovered as a child. As I expected, the tiny brass key was still there, where I had left it twenty years ago.

Regretfully, I picked up the key, gripping it so tightly it hurt and pressed my fist against my chest. Trusted with a key of destiny but not the knowledge of what it was, nor the future it was tied to. People had died in pursuit of this key. If I had only known.

Standing up, I dusted my hands off and turned to the nine soldiers who waited in their lacquered plate armor. “Burn it to the ground. We’re done here.”

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