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The Crystal Sword
Category: Fantasy
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
The end.