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The Heart of the Storm
Category: Fantasy
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
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.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
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 end.