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The Spellweaver
Category: Fantasy
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
A knock at the door changed everything.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
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 end.