...He felt the power coiled in his blood like a viper that had learned to sleep in his veins, and some days the viper woke hungry. He had made the pact believing he could control it, that his will was stronger than ambition, that heroism could be bartered for. The devil had laughed at that innocence, had let him walk far enough to see hope before twisting everything it touched. Now he stood on the deck at sunset, watching ships come in from distant places, places he could never quite reach, because the price of power was knowing exactly what he had sacrificed to wield it. The pact remained. The redemption was still possible. But the cost had been tallied long ago...