They found shelter in an abandoned warehouse near the river.
Mira paced furiously. "We can't stay here. The Serpent knows who you are, the council wants you chained—what's left, Aric? Where do we go?"
Aric sat with his head in his hands. The fire inside him was restless, whispering of destruction. "I don't know."
Edran leaned against a beam, weary. "There are places the Magisters cannot reach. Old orders, hidden still. But to reach them, we must leave Caelthorn."
"Leave?" Mira's voice cracked. "We just got here!"
"The boy is hunted," Edran said firmly. "And if the Serpent has truly returned, then the war of the First Kings stirs again. Staying here means death."
Aric lifted his gaze. Beyond the warehouse's broken window, Caelthorn's towers gleamed in moonlight. He had dreamed of this city all his life, but already it felt like a cage.
He clenched his fists. "Then we go. Wherever the fire leads."