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The Heart of the Storm
Category: Fantasy
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The end.