Skip to content
Throne of Thorns
Category: Fantasy
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
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 sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
A knock at the door changed everything.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The end.