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The Eternal Flame
Category: Fantasy
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.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
The end.