Rocky, tall cliffs over the sea. Cliffs in white, red, brown and grey, arranged in thin stripes, melding together in a complex, indescribable color. Small sprouts, here and there, pushing through the rocks, tinting the landscape with small touches of light green. Below, the roiling sea reflected the heavens above, mirroring the soft grey of clouds ready to shower the land in a downpour. Over the cliffs, a flat plateau extended itself toward the horizon. Meadows, punctuated with rocks here and there, underlined by small flowers there and here. The strong, salty wind sweeped the scene.
The second sword was entombed in a small building on the north-western coast of Majala. They were standing in front of the tomb. A short, square building, built in big stone blocks, eroded by the wind, covered in moss and lichens. The large stone door had its intricate carvings dumbed down by time and weather. Despite worries of the key mechanism not working after its century of non-use, the door opened well. The sword was waiting inside.
Already woken by its brethren, it rose as well and joined it. The blade was equally long, but had a different texture. This sword was named justice. Its silvery blade was bissected in length, with a third, thin pike standing in between the two halves. The hilt and the guard were ribbon like, with long pink flowing bands behind it.
Two swords out of three.
They would continue to the east, to reach the archipelago of Masimute.