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Throne of Thorns
Category: Fantasy
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The fire had burned down to embers, but neither of them moved to stoke it.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The end.