“Because killing the legend ends its utility.”
I stop.
I can see it now. The whole ugly arc.
Marj storms. Marj threatens. Marj captures.
Then she releases.
Not because she lost control.
Because she realized control wasn’t the goal.
Belief was.
“She didn’t need to win,” I say. “She just needed the story to escalate beyond me.”
I sit back down slowly.
On one of the open feeds, a commentator speculates that the Butcher may be operating multiple simultaneous fronts.
Omnipresent.
Unpredictable.
Evolving.
I laugh under my breath.
“That’s new,” Vrok says.
“What?”
“The fear.”
I look at him.
He’s not mocking me.
He’s reading me.
“It’s not fear of her,” he continues. “It’s fear of what this does to you.”
I rub my face hard.
“I can’t disappear now,” I say.
He doesn’t answer.
Because he knows I’m right.
If I vanish, the myth continues anyway.
Worse—someone else can weaponize it.
Imposters.
Copycats.
