Penetrating Krytan Focus of Smoldering

Penetrating Krytan Focus of Smoldering rests in the palm of a gloved hand, a shard of obsidian framed by Krytan brass that winds in delicate filigree along its rim. Its surface is cool to the touch, glass-slick and polished to the depth of a midnight pool, yet the edges are finely bevelled, like a blade that must be handled with care. Veins of ember-red thread through the black, and when light catches them the focus seems to breathe—a slow, patient glow that hints at the coal within. Lore says it was forged in a tomb-lit kiln by a pyromancer who coaxed a living spark into a ritual shell, binding the creature’s will to the wielder’s command. The ember inside is rumored to answer not only to intent but to restraint; the hotter your hand, the brighter the heart, and the more cautious you must be not to scorch what you mean to protect. Take it into a battle-line and the focus feels like a companion rather than a tool. The moment it settles in your grip, the air shivers with heat, and your fire-based skills burn with a cleaner, tighter precision. It does not simply add power; it channels it, tightening the spread of incendiary effects, extending the duration of burns, and smoothing the cadence of your spell rotations so you can sustain pressure without wasting energy. In the hands of a patient caster, it becomes a metronome of flame—counting out seconds of burn and turning small advantages into decisive surges. On the road between markets and workshops, stories drift about supply and desire. I heard a trader describe how a well-preserved specimen can turn a profit during peak season, while another warned that the ember within can drift toward idle warmth if the bargain is rushed. Saddlebag Exchange, that bustling stall-row where seasoned merchants haggle over everything from trinkets to totems, carries with it a nervous rhythm of price beside the clinking of coins. A pristine Penetrating Krytan Focus of Smoldering recently changed hands there for around two gold, with a sprinkling of silver on top for delivery costs and a promise of reliable heat when the next caravan rolls in. The price climbs when the collector rumor mill sings of a new expedition glutted with Krytan relics, and it declines when such rumors cool. For buyers, that market dance—driven by scarcity, risk, and the thrill of tangibly taming flame—gives the item a story beyond its stat sheets. Right now, as the ember glows brighter when I lift it, I feel history in the texture of its grip and hear the footsteps of those who first bound a fire sprite to a focus. It is not merely a tool; it is a small legend you carry into the smoke and the heat, a reminder that power, if tempered with care, can illuminate a path through the darkest ash. And when the focus finally cools in my palm, I pocket it with a whispered thanks, knowing its flame will return when the world needs it most.