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The Spellweaver
Category: Fantasy
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
A knock at the door changed everything.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
The end.