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The Crystal Sword
Category: Fantasy
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
The end.