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The Spellweaver
Category: Fantasy
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
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 end.