That night, as they lodged in a cramped inn near the city walls, Edran spoke quietly.
"They will use you, boy. The council fears you, yet they will not let you go. Be wary."
Aric frowned. "And you? Why do you help me?"
The old man's good eye softened. "Because once, I too carried the fire. But I was not chosen—I was broken by it. Perhaps you will succeed where I failed."
Later, unable to sleep, Aric slipped outside. In the alley's gloom, a figure stepped from the shadows. A man in a hood, his smile sharp as a blade.
"You burn with power," the stranger said. "The Magisters would chain you. But I would teach you to rule."
"Who are you?" Aric demanded.
The man's eyes gleamed red. "A friend of the Fang. When you tire of chains, seek the mark of the Serpent. We will be waiting."
And before Aric could move, the man vanished into smoke.