After two more full days of travel, Kyrian watched the horizon line, where the familiar contours of the yellow plain and the forming dark clouds began to appear.
The mark on his hand remained quiet now, only a faint residual warmth, a reminder that there would be more natural formations, but none very close for the time being.
Soon, thoughts about it and about the mark faded temporarily from Kyrian's mind.
And what emerged were thoughts about three things.
The tournament. The Blood Court. And Dong Zhen.
In the sky, the black-winged horse, strengthened by the spiritual stones, cut through the air with speed, guided instinctively toward the Shadow Court. Kyrian didn't need to tell it the way, the beast already knew its path back.
Then, the landscape below changed gradually, beneath the perpetual ceiling of dark clouds.
The massive concealment formation appeared before him, a distortion in the air visible only to Kyrian's special eyes.
