Strax stood on the warm sand, the waves crashing gently against his bare feet. The wind carried the salt of the ocean, spreading it across his skin as a constant reminder of where he was—lost, far from his wives, far from what he called home. His hand firmly gripped the hilt of his sword, Zani, as the sun dipped below the horizon, tinting the sky orange and red.
He sighed, staring at the endless blue before him.
"You've been very quiet, Zani…" he murmured, his voice low and weary, as if speaking to himself.
Then, the air around the blade shimmered. A translucent aura took shape, and beside him appeared a woman made of energy and spirit: Zani, the personification of the sword. Her short white hair swayed as if constantly in an invisible breeze. Her eyes were a deep gold, carrying the weight of centuries.
She stood beside him, crossing her arms as she, too, gazed out to sea.
"I wasn't quiet... I was thinking." Her voice was firm, but it held something distant.
