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The Last Enchantress
Category: Fantasy
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.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
The end.