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The Heart of the Storm
Category: Fantasy
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
The end.