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The Heart of the Storm
Category: Fantasy
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
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 stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
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.
The end.