They finally made it.
The border of Chronisca stood before them—solid, majestic, and gleaming with organized life. Compared to Neuraleth's cracked dirt and rusting gates, this border was a castle in itself. It was clear now: the rumors were true. The advisers of Chronisca were extraordinary.
But that also meant trouble.
Guards lined the border in layers—each with piercing gazes and a pristine uniform. Azriel and Leirza looked at each other. They were too recognizable. Azriel's face was wanted across the continent, and Leirza—well, he was his identical twin... or voidborn clone. Close enough.
Their Khaori Bierds? Massive. Distinct. Not exactly subtle.
"We need a plan," Azriel muttered. "Fast."
Leirza nodded and, without a word, turned part of his body into a thin, clear veil of voidslime, just enough to slip into the guard station unnoticed. He moved like a shadow—silent, unseen—and returned minutes later with fresh intel.
