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The Last Enchantress
Category: Fantasy
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The end.