Skip to content
The Spellweaver
Category: Fantasy
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
A knock at the door changed everything.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
The end.