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The Last Enchantress
Category: Fantasy
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
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 train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
The end.