Skip to content
Crown of Embers
Category: Fantasy
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
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 market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The end.