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Throne of Thorns
Category: Fantasy
A cold wind swept across the plain, carrying with it the scent of distant rain.
The morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the room in soft gold.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
She smiled, but it did not reach her eyes.
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
The end.