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Throne of Thorns
Category: Fantasy
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.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
A knock at the door changed everything.
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.