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The Last Enchantress
Category: Fantasy
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
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.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The end.