The Blade and The Bird

Chapter 1

The cobblestone streets were damp with the constant drizzle of rain as Sidra walked quickly through the cold, wet streets of Moros. She listened to the slap of her soaked boots against the cracks in the stone and thought about how she hated this time of year. Moros was known for rather dreary weather in general, with thick clouds hanging in the skies even in the peaks of summer. During the winter season, the sky never seems to stop crying. Sidra pulled her coat a little tighter around her body as she felt the evening chill creep up her spine as she watched the last rays of the sun drop below the horizon. This time of year the sun went down earlier and earlier each day, leaving the wet cold to dominate through the night.

Sidra looked back at the small shop she had just left, with its assortment of colorful powders and liquids sitting on the dry, dusty shelves. There was a familiar comfort from being inside the shop and the warmth of the place was longed for when compared to the current chill outside. Sidra took a quick glance down the street, she watched as the other shops along the main street shut their lights off for the night. The only illumination remaining came from the dimly lit lampposts that ran down the length of the road. She had been out later much later than she had intended and Sidra hoped she wouldn't get another lecture from her grandmother about the dangers of the night.

She quickened her pace as she walked through the darkening street. It was a ten minutes walk to the winding trail that led from the town out to her home on the far end of the street. Her shoulders loosened and her gait became more relaxed when she stepped from the cobblestone street onto the muddy trail. The anxiousness she had been feeling just moments before was quickly replaced by a sense of calm that came from the familiar comforts of the worn trail.

It was nice to live so far outside the town. Though the majority of people in Moros had adapted to the comforts of living close together, in tightly built homes that sat adjacent to the local shops and markets, Sidra lived with her family out in the woods. She had grown up with teasing from children who lived within the town about how her family wouldn't change from the old ways but she had always defended her little home. Children had called them weird, or poor, or the very vicious had called them Mystics, but Sidra had never let it get further than that. She'd come home with bloodied knuckles and black eyes and tell her grandmother about what had happened with fierce bravery in her eyes. Her grandmother would pat her on the back and tell her that she should always stand up for herself, that black eyes and scrapes heal.

It was only a little over a mile outside of town, and after a half-hour of walking, Sidra could make out the outline of her home through the trees. Her Grandfather had built the house from the ground up. Decades ago, the house stood tall with fresh paint and every shingle attached to the roof with care. Now, it looked more like a shack than it did a house. The roof of her home was worn, several shingles had fallen off over the winters and never been patched. Now, little droplets of rain fell into the house with ease and several buckets were placed around the home to collect the water. Sidra didn't mind.

The once impressive walls were water-logged and bowed outwards, the paint chipping off into little ribbons that hung down the sides of the house until they eventually broke off. The steps leading up to the deck were cracked, and several shutters for the windows were missing. The soft glow from the light inside shined through these gaps in the shutter out onto the run-down porch. The door was grey, the paint cracking in lines to reveal bits of pale purple from the previous color, and the handle was tarnished from years of use. The house was by now means luxurious. This little two-bedroom shack kept warm by the fireplace and not much else. Still, it was familiar, and Sidra would upkeep the house as best she could for her family.

Sidra pulled a set of brass keys out of her pocket and unlocked the front door, the key was slightly misshapen, and it took several wiggles for it to click and twist. When it did, Sidra pulled open the door and stepped into the warmth of the home.