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The Last Enchantress
Category: Fantasy
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
The end.