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The Crystal Sword
Category: Fantasy
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The end.