The wind cut like blades against Kyrian's face, but for him, who was used to the frequent winds of the sect, it was nothing.
Three whole days had passed since Kyrian had left the Green Sword Sect.
Traveling on the eagle, which seemed not to know fatigue, he had needed only a few stops for it to rest during that time.
The sky changed color with each sunset and was reborn the next morning, but the burning sensation inside the palm of his right hand remained.
No, more than that, the burning grew. With each day, each hour, each moment.
The small mark pulsed stronger, pointing the direction he should follow.
At first, it was only an annoyance. A light warmth on the skin. On the second day, the small mark felt like a constant flame. On the third, the burning had not worsened much, but it was still an irritation that made Kyrian furrow his brows.
