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The blade was light and cool to the touch, as her finger glided across its edge, she doubted its efficacy. But only for a moment. The Feathered Edge was a weapon that was made to preserve, and so it only made sense that it could bring no harm to that which the wielder wished to protect. The blade was dull, without something to protect it had fallen into a stupor.

Now, with her hand upon the handle and a clear vision of the world in her mind's eye, the edge came alive. Slowly, the sword revealed the impossible glimmer of its true and sharp shape. Hundreds of tiny feathers of metal tucked themselves within the blade to reveal the edge. Still, even if she were to press into it, it would draw no blood and her finger would feel no pressure.

She had unsheathed it to appreciate it yet again. Ever since she had inherited it, she had not gone long without stealing just another glance to appreciate its artistry. As its name suggested, the blade took the silhouette of a feather, widening at the tip and shortening to its body. It widened again to meet the guard, which held a deep blue jewel. As it pleased, it would flash to a brilliant red before returning. Above all things, it was art, it seemed only a coincidence that it had practical applications. It was a thing of her god, not made by but for him, she prayed with it in hand. It was not within his power, and she knew it well, but she prayed that she might have someone to watch over her.

She was on the road now, and so she sheathed Feathered Edge. Neoparram was her destination for now, but as with all things it was bound to and subject to change. The road for now was not particularly dangerous, she had elected not to take the stone laden road to Neoparram, instead she had taken to the shoreline.

Esmony was the country host to the city of Neoparram. Despite its arid deserts that ran all the way to the sea, it was no modest power, and it certainly was not lacking for populace. Though she was not in the desert proper now as she continued to move through the forests of the north. In fact, she had not yet reached the border. There was a town with a name she could not recall on the river betwixt Esmony to the south, and Paraclaed from where she came.

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A half mile to her left were the seas and oceans where the white sands had somehow spilled out from inside the greater continent. The trees made the horizon hard to find, but the further south she went the easier it became as the forest surrendered to grass, which would lead to dirt and sand some few dozen or hundred miles beyond that.

The cool breeze carried over from the shoreline, though its salt and chill were the only things that went with her, for all the simplicity of traveling alone it was still a depressing thought to know that she'd go days and at worst whole tendays without speaking to another. The thought of loneliness was present in her mind most of every day, it was why she so often tried to occupy her mind with nicer things. After hours of traveling like this she noticed a clearing.

The sparse forest opened, as a sort of basin began which led to a beach. Within the basin was a small village, no more than a dozen homes. Most of the shoreline was filled with docks and boats, and the further inland were the houses and shacks. A path out the basin lead to a windmill and a small farm, it seemed just barely sufficient for the size, but as with most fishing towns bread was no staple. To her dismay, the longer she looked, the more it seemed the village was abandoned.

The hobbles were covered not in moss but a thick sea vine. The paths were trodden, but that was long ago. Most of the homes had fallen roofs or broken doors. Most were left as mere suggestions of what once stood there, with nothing but the foundations to let those that came later know what once was.

It seemed she was the only one now to know what was once here. She mourned for whatever had led such a humble place to fall. Hoping that life may one day return to it, she took a short rest over the basin and prayed softly for the forgotten and decayed.

As she silently prayed for its restoration someday, she noticed a movement. The waves broke as something emerged from the water. What seemed like A hobbled and hunchback man mounted the docks and made their way towards one of the fishing huts, they seemed to cast something aside as they made their way. A few moments later they reemerged holding now what seemed to be a fishing spear and made their way back down the docks. They stopped at the end of the longest dock, and took a moment to look around.

Then they simply fell through the dock.