Skip to content
The Heart of the Storm
Category: Fantasy
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
The end.