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The Spellweaver
Category: Fantasy
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
A knock at the door changed everything.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
The end.