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The Spellweaver
Category: Fantasy
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The end.