Kyren's POV
*****
The stealth craft cut through the ashen red skies as Kyren approached Gravethorn City.
A few charred towers and cracked obsidian walls of the border settlement glowed faintly under the sunlight — a scarred reminder of the very first attack Arcadia launched against the Dark Lands.
Fitting, then, that he'd use it to slip into Arcadia unnoticed.
The moment the craft reached the city's southern ridge, Kyren flicked a rune on the console.
"Activate spectral dispersion. No traces."
"Confirmed," the AI chimed.
The craft dissolved from sight, sound, and magical perception — phasing into an invisible shadow.
Kyren leaned back in the control seat and, with a flick of his wrist, summoned the crystallised curse shard into his palm.
The same one he'd obtained from his maid who was poisoned to death. And from Alpha King Arian.
It was sickly green. Vile. Pulsing faintly like a dying heartbeat trying to wake.
