Skip to content
The Last Enchantress
Category: Fantasy
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
The end.