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The Spellweaver
Category: Fantasy
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
The end.