Kyrian opened his eyes.
His room appeared before him, the wooden walls, the window with light streaming through, the table covered in scrolls.
The morning light entered through the window, not the golden hue of dawn, but a pale, cold blue that announced the approach of noon.
The distant sounds of the city, the voices, the carts, and the markets could be heard, muffled, as if coming from another world.
And, for the first time... He was not even breathing heavily. He was beginning to get used to those dreams. Or perhaps nightmares. He did not know.
He sat up on the bed.
He ran a hand across his face, feeling cool skin, free of sweat.
He could still remember that vision perfectly.
The Black Points. The eye. Azhura'k.
Kyrian sighed. It was not worth thinking about that now. He had something more important.
His cultivation technique. The final step.
A short while later, he was walking through the small courtyard.
