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The Spellweaver
Category: Fantasy
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
The end.