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The Heart of the Storm
Category: Fantasy
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
The end.