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The Spellweaver
Category: Fantasy
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
The stars that night seemed closer than they had any right to be.
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
The end.