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The Spellweaver
Category: Fantasy
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
The end.