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Throne of Thorns
Category: Fantasy
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The end.