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The Last Enchantress
Category: Fantasy
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.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
The end.