James O. Miller - Histrorical Fiction

The Greek mountains were a world of shadows, unforgiving and ancient. Jagged peaks sliced into the sky, their dark silhouettes looming like the remnants of gods long forgotten. The wind screamed through the valleys, carrying with it the bitter taste of salt and pine resin, as though the earth itself was bracing for what was to come. The clouds above gathered in ominous silence, heavy and unyielding, as though they knew something the world below did not.