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The Spellweaver
Category: Fantasy
A knock at the door changed everything.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
The end.