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The Spellweaver
Category: Fantasy
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
A knock at the door changed everything.
The end.