Skip to content
The Eternal Flame
Category: Fantasy
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
The end.