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The Spellweaver
Category: Fantasy
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The end.