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Throne of Thorns
Category: Fantasy
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
The end.