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The Last Enchantress
Category: Fantasy
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
The end.