Nora skipped along the clouds with the tip of her blade, bouncing along at the speed of a bird with six wings. She didn’t need to breathe here, but her chest drew in the un-air surrounding her nevertheless, exhaling it the same. It did nothing for her but relieve the tension of one who, until this point, felt completely human.
The pink clouds drifted about her as she danced off of them, some chiming with small notes when the tip of her blade dipped into them.
The Sword of the Sky. The Clouded Sting.
Her destination floated in stark contrast to the surrounding area. Dark and filled to brim with an electric pulse, the fortress held the other half. Nora knew; she could feel it as sure as she could grip the hilt of her trusted blade. It had chosen her, and now she was one with its power. Nothing could stop her, as long as the sky remained lit.
She could feel the fullness of Aeth’s moon creeping up behind her. With a great swing, she blasted herself backwards toward the storm-ridden door. As her feet lightly touched the floor before it, the pulsing electric current surrounded her, recognizing what she held–what she was.
Nora aimed the point of the sword straight at the lock on the door of storm. The electricity, in defense of its home, encircled the lock, casting bolts of harsh red and violet lighting towards the middle.
She smiled, and twisted the sword, as if it were the key to the world itself.
The lock shattered, the electric bolts scattering. Where the lock once held the door there now remained nothing more than a large hole, a breach.
Eye of the storm, she thought absentmindedly.
With a glance over her shoulder, Nora, stepped forward. The pink hue of the sky had darkened, and she wasn’t sure how much time she had left.
Saelenor. Her mind at once reeled with the power of it, and with the anxiety of its close departure from her being. She should have waited for the next full sun, should have gotten here earlier, should have thought this through more carefully…
But where was the fun in that?