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The Crystal Sword
Category: Fantasy
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The end.