The Capital - you could almost hear the emphasis - slowly grew bigger and bigger as we approached. After a while, the far edge seemed to sort of... bend upwards a little, giving the illusion of the entire city slowly tipping toward us. I was slightly startled when I noticed, the trek seeming agonizingly long when the goal was so close, but a short explanation by my perma-reflection revealed that the visual distortion was nothing more than an illusion. I wondered if the illusion was deliberate, to inspire awe and make travellers feel small - or if it was an effect of being at the center of the world.

Oh yes, for this was the center of the Fae Realm, as I'd been calling it in my head. Their capital was built over a truly ancient circle of stones, which held the entire realm in place. Well, sort of. It was still a series of Islands, but at least they weren't drifting apart more than they already were.

Another curious thing I learned over my travel across this world was that it was not, as I'd until now assumed, flat - rather, it had about the same shape as Earth, a sphere, but with one hell of a lot more air. Indeed, the entire Realm was about the diameter of Earth, with the density of islands slowly tapering off at the edge, and the Islands closer to the center becoming more and more stable as we went.

We'd started our trek on the outer rim, the region where visible islands slowly tapered off, and were subsumed by a diffuse collection of smaller rocks, dust, and the occasional continent, had travelled into the world, past where Earth's surface and mantle and lava flow would mean instant death, and were now approaching the exact geometric center of the entire world.

Of course, everything that has a center has an edge, or at least a place where one can go no further, and so it was with the Fae Realm as well - the farther away you got from the center, the more diffuse and unstable the landmasses grew, until they were replaced by an unending, airless darkness.

At the center of this world lay a circle of Rune Stones, against which the teleportation circles looked like pebbles, which held the entire realm together through what I assumed to be mystic means, because it sure as hell wasn't gravity. It also held the ever-present atmosphere in place, though the density would begin to lack in respect for Human (and Fae) life not much further out from where we'd arrived.

We'd also not seen any more Cracks in the world on the level of our first continent, though there were indicators of their presence everywhere. A tree split by what looked like lightning here, two halves of a boulder there, and the suspiciously clean face of a nearby cliff were by far the worst examples, though the effect was not restricted to grand displays of violence. No, there were smaller things too - broken cutlery, random halved objects, unusually cut trees, the list went on.

Not long after we cleared the little farming settlement, we arrived at the last teleportation circle. It was clean - rectangular marble, etched with faintly glowing runes, and an impeccable feeling of calm while standing inside. Without the insistence of Ref, I'd probably have fallen asleep right then and there, but I managed to gather my wits amongst her yelling, and gently activated the mechanism to carry us to the cradle of Elven society.

***

After enduring the muted colors of the teleport, the circle gently deposited me in a square.

The stone beneath my feet was the same, glimmering white color as the stones of the circle had been, and as I looked around, I was instantly reminded of my first day in this empty world.

Once again, I was standing in an empty city, signs of life all around, but no living soul anywhere. The feeling was haunting, and I almost felt a dramatic wind ruffle my metaphorical cloak just then as the metaphorical orchestra went silent in reverence.

"So, we're here," I told the empty square, my voice echoing loudly off the silent walls.

"That we are," came the reply from the mirror, which was resting in my light scarred left hand. During our scramble for safety, I cut myself pretty bad, and eventually wrapped the sharp edges in the fey equivalent of duct tape. It was forest green. And probably magical.

"Listen, as much as I want to meld into the crowd," I said with a wry smile, "I think we need to get moving. Where do we go from here again?"

"Oh! sorry, I was caught in the moment. It doesn't look like I remember it looking."

"You remember this place? I thought you were inside a box or something?"

"Ah, yes, of course I was." a pause. "Us incorporeals have some freedom of perception, being based on it and all."

Somehow, that explanation failed to convince me, but I let it go for now. She'd tell me as soon as this is over. Or else.

"Now we need to find the central runestones, or Anchor Stones, and use them to transfer us back into Earth. The access point should still be the same, and we'll find ourselves in Europe, or close to it at least. The process may be a bit harder than coming here, but your experience with these teleportation circles will help you in that respect."

"I'm guessing these Anchor Stones will be at the center of the city? Where are we anyway?"

"I have no idea! Isn't that exciting?! You should probably find a map. If I remember correctly, there are information booths with a city map chiseled into the side all over the place."

And so, I started off in the direction I could see the gentle pulsing of the massive crystal tower over the skyline.

***

The city was strange, beyond its emptiness. The architecture itself was oddly alien to my human sensibilities, and after travelling among lesser examples of their buildings, I could begin to make out common trends. Simple things, like the shape of windows, the presence of three steps before every door, the ever-present wrought-iron greebles that looked like vertical railings, snaking themselves up the surrounding towers like a metallic species of vine, branching and converging into an aesthetically pleasing shape.

The way none of the glass was perfectly clear, but held a seemingly random tint for every window, the tiny runes carved into window frames and doorframes, the ever-present white stone everything was built from - not like humans would use stone, in bricks and rectangles, but seemingly random stones fitting together so perfectly, it looked like the seams were simply painted on.

The Fey didn't appear to have advanced to the industrial age, but they were by no means primitive, their civilisation had apparently taken a different path. All the houses were furnished like I'd expect a dwelling to be back home, but still... different. I saw shockingly familiar things, like fridges, ovens and clocks, which weren't at all like they would be back home. As far as I could discern, they were all "powered" by one of those small white crystals, with the less complicated looking devices simply having an indentation at the back or bottom, and the more complex looking ones having small, inbuilt arrays where a tiny gem hung suspended by metal wires.

Here and there, I could spy storefronts, which wasn't that strange, but their wares were often...weird. On one I saw something familiar, the sign had a painted rendition of the large crystal that was still pulsing overhead, and the store itself seemed to be something like a hardware shop back on Earth. On a whim, I bagged some of the loose, but luminous crystals (while ignoring the dim ones), and checked out some of the other stuff. Sadly, there wasn't any useful adventuring gear, like bombs or rope, the store seemed to sell mostly kitchen appliances (familiar and strange) and other, much larger things of unknown function, but I did find a boxed set of crystalline lenses which I carefully wrapped in a silky sheet, and then stowed in the bottom of my pack.

There was more than one blacksmith-type shop too, with signs depicting different pieces of armor, hammers, anvils, shields and swords, and one especially adventurous one that had what looked like a pair of crossed battle-axes above a crude drawing of a split-open head, with three drops of blood spilling below it.

I saw that last one while power-walking through a very seedy alley, so I couldn't get a good look at it, but it sure had more spiderwebs than the other stores.

It was while walking along some sort of main shopping road, different stores lining the cobbled sidewalk, that I was gripped by an idea.

So I find myself in a sort-of fantasy world, where apparently elves exist? And other fey creatures from british, I suppose irish? or welsh? mythology (don't kill me, I have no idea about any of this, I wasn't a history major). And for some reason, every fifth shop advertised some sort of weaponry.

I'm not adverse to the concept of weapon stores, having grown up in the Land of the Free, but the sheer quantity of apparently profitable stores selling implements of death made me a little bit uneasy. So uneasy in fact, that I had a slight need to procure something for myself... just in case, of course.

Whatever had wiped the humans away had done so here as well. Hopefully.

***

I picked out the most pompous and over-the-top store I could find, naturally. Gilded signage, stainless (though slightly dusty) display pieces, the works.

After all, expensive = quality, am I right?

Or so I thought. A stroll through the rows and rows of intricately crafted "weaponry" revealed some interesting pieces, the most horrifying of which was a strange amalgam-like ""blade"" that looked like a deranged madman had melted and then haphazardly glued together the hilts of multiple rapiers. At least the entire monstrosity pointed somewhat in one direction, but still. It, and other pieces like it, did not inspire much confidence within me. I found some barely usable swords and daggers (hammers, maces, axes and the like were right out, on account of their weight and gaudiness), but they were horribly overdone and encrusted with mountains of gold, gemstones and a silvery metal that caught the eye just right. When I tried to lift one of the smaller knives, it was uncomfortably heavy in my hand, and a half-hearted toss only resulted in the polished floor gaining a dent.

No, I was going to need something much more down to earth. I'm by no means weak, but I didn't want to carry around pounds of metal all day, so I continued along the main shopping mall, keeping my eyes open for that universally transcendant "small, but good" feeling a few rare shops seem to elicit.

I'd almost given up hope, now much closer to the central tower, which was growing to be absolutely titanic, when I spotted it. It wasn't large, it wasn't pretty - but it caught my eye in a way none of the other storefronts had. Sure, I'd went into one or two others, but of the weapons I'd tested out (not that I knew much about what to test for), two shattered in my hand, and one went right into the hardwood floor and got stuck there.

But this one was different. It was tiny compared to the others, barely taking up half the space of some of the other stores advertising strange plants, stone slates engraved with lettering in a couple of different languages (interestingly, there was one such slate that had what looked like english lettering on it, but the entire thing was complete gibberish - except for the word "extraordinarily" somewhere in the middle; I grabbed it anyway)

When I entered, there was the light sound of a bell somewhere above my head, and a poof of dust lifted from everything as the outside breeze became an inside draft, but nothing else. I wasn't quite sure why I expected something more, to be honest.

The inside looked both homely and barren at the same time, like a house that had been lived in for some time, but was now in the middle of being auctioned off. There were things scattered about, empty boxes and the like, something I'd noticed became ever more common the closer I got to the central tower, and the merchandise hung forgotten to the back of the little storeroom.

I let my eyes glide along the back wall, which had two rows of wood, embossed with steel holders; the upper row hosting a variety of different swords, the lower one the same with daggers... and then I saw it.

I suppose it was a plain thing, at least in comparison to the other examples I'd handled today, but I felt it...calling to me, if that's the right word. It wasn't a "buy me! buy me!" thing - the blade just seemed to sing softly to itself in the ray of light coming from above, so quietly that I wasn't sure if I was hearing the wind or if it was really the sword.

Then I touched the blade, entranced, the tip of my finger dragging with it a thick layer of dust, and I saw that it was made of the same silvery metal as some of the embossments on the more expensive ornamental weapons I'd seen earlier, and I knew at once that this sword was the one for me. I couldn't explain it, it just seemed right at the time, and before I knew it, I'd reached out again.

I pulled it free, the black leather grip surprisingly soft and warm for having been here god knows how long, and swung it through the air experimentally, not expecting its incredible lightness.

It sang through the air with impossible grace, my eyes still following the shimmer of its blade as it cut the dust clouds in half, the breeze picking up a little to swirl more and replace what had been cleft in two, swinging the glimmering metal through the air, around the edge here, touching a swirl there, I began giggling like I was a little girl again - and then the moment was over.

My mind seemed to snap back into itself, and I just stared dumbly at the sword still resting in my hand, which may have stopped its almost inaudible song - but the comfort of its presence hadn't vanished completely, I could still feel the slight warmth in my arm.

Despite everything, I didn't feel uneasy, I was simply... content, for lack of a better word.

Bonelessly, I swept up the dusty scabbard hanging behind where the blade had rested, sheathed the sword, and swung both over my shoulder, the grip coming to rest behind my right ear.

***

I searched some other stores after the "sword thing", which I still wasn't sure how to feel about, and found a variety of different things, none of which seemed useful - at least not to me. Ref had other ideas.

One was what appeared to be a tiny library, curiously the only one I'd spied so far. She made herself known at this point, and told me in no uncertain terms that I simply had to show her every single book here.

Luckily, it truly was a small place, otherwise we'd probably have been there for a while (and I would have refused), but showing an impertinent mirror lady every single page of about a hundred books (the rest were, curiously, all duplicates) written in a very narrow language you can't read wasn't exactly my idea of "fun". Not to mention, about a week ago the same mirror lady had spurned me to do a marathon run across half the world because we had so little time. At least the books were thin, probably because these Elves can write pretty small.

Still, it seemed important to her beyond mere academic curiosity, so I obliged, and a few hours later in the day we were finished.

"Knowledge is Power, my dear Amy," the aforementioned mirror lady had said, imperiously, "And Books are Knowledge. Now shut up and let me absorb this. It'll come in handy."

I spent most of the time turning pages and polishing the silvery metal of my new blade to a mirror finish.

***

"So, want to talk about the sword? You seem very taken with it," came an all-too familiar voice from inside my jacket.

"I don't think I can put it into words, really."

"Try me."

"Um, alright. So. ehm." I tried.

I'd not worked through the entire experience myself just yet. I knew that I'd felt something profound, perhaps even unique, but I still didn't know what to think.

"It was weird, but not bad weird. Interesting, I guess. How to describe it..."

How to describe it? I still felt the presence of the sword on my back, its physical shape the only unfamiliar thing about it, right now. I felt like I should take it out, swing it around a bit - but that would distract from my walking, and so I didn't.

I realized with a startle that I was basically describing what amounted to a cursed item, a sword with a compulsion on it to do evil and kill people, but it just didn't feel like that; in the past, whenever I'd read stories where the protagonist encounters a cursed item, they describe or I imagined a feeling of wrong, or evil, something that wasn't at all present with the sword.

Not only that, but it wasn't a voice in my head that commanded me to kill or hurt, it was simply an itch in my finger to draw it and swing it, maybe listen to the sound it made while cutting the air.

"I guess you could say it just feels right, you know? God knows I've felt enough wrong lately, but I can tell the difference between the thing on my back and the thing chasing us. It's not like a perfect opposite, I don't think that could exist in a physical form like the sword, but it feels close to it. Just different, I guess."

"Alright. You're the one with the physical body, so I'll defer to your judgement for now. I just worry, you know?"

"Aw, thanks," I said, and only with a tiny little bit of sarcasm.