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Throne of Thorns
Category: Fantasy
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
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.