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The Spellweaver
Category: Fantasy
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
A knock at the door changed everything.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
The end.