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The Heart of the Storm
Category: Fantasy
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The end.