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The Last Enchantress
Category: Fantasy
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
The end.