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The Spellweaver
Category: Fantasy
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
The letter was still on the table, unopened, as it had been for three days.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
A knock at the door changed everything.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
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.
The end.