The tomb had been opened. The contents of the ancestor's ring were in his hands. The guardian was dead. The young man had fled.
The journey to the Blood Court would continue.
Kyrian flew for the rest of the night, crossing mountain ranges and deep valleys under the starry sky. Arcon flew in a straight line, its wings beating in a steady, hypnotic rhythm. The wind cut across Kyrian's face, but he did not blink.
When dawn arrived, painting the horizon in shades of orange and pink, Kyrian had Arcon land in an isolated valley. The beast needed to rest. Kyrian did as well.
He fed Arcon with some low-grade spirit stones and sat on a flat rock, meditating for a few hours.
After resting, they continued.
The second day of travel was monotonous. Dark clouds began to appear on the horizon ahead, not ordinary clouds, but the heavy clouds that marked the approach to the territory of the Blood Court. The sky gradually grew darker and the air heavier.
Kyrian recognized that landscape.
