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Throne of Thorns
Category: Fantasy
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.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The end.