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The Spellweaver
Category: Fantasy
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
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.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The end.