Leah is seated on her bed, crossed legged, with the sword on her lap. She stares at the window for a moment, only to look down at it.

Her eyes trailing off to the shoulder of it, and to the guard-cross that holds the ridged blade in place.

The handle smooth, thin, and, curved, with the pommel having a short point to one side, like a beak.

Leah now moves her index finger, with it sliding across the edge of the blade. Starting from the shoulder, down to the point. She looks at her finger tip, and rubs off the visible blood with her thumb, only to bring it to her lips.

She sweeps her legs off the bed, and stands. Only for her to gracefully wave the sword, her eyes locking on each swipe.

The weight of it is not too heavy, with it resembling her old weapon. She holds it horizontally, and looks down at the handle, to see a button. Her thumb presses it, only for an electrical current to surge across the blade itself.

Her lips twist into a smirk, only for her to press the button, and the cu