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The Last Enchantress
Category: Fantasy
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
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.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
The end.