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The Spellweaver
Category: Fantasy
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
A knock at the door changed everything.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
The end.