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The Spellweaver
Category: Fantasy
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
The end.