The world watched me reshape the status quo. Now it wants answers, something clean enough to make sense of what happened at the Grand Arcanum. The trial gives them that illusion, of process, of structure. A way to believe that people like me can still be held accountable by laws written for a different world.
But the cracks are already there.
A series of precise, calculated killings begins to unfold across Portland, each one targeting someone embedded in power. There’s no chaos to it, no randomness. Just intent. The kind that doesn’t announce itself, but reshapes everything around it once it starts.
As fear spreads and pressure builds, the line between control and collapse starts to thin. Institutions hesitate. And every answer the world thinks it wants only leads to a worse question.
I can feel where it’s heading before anyone is willing to say it out loud.
This isn’t about revenge. It isn’t about justice.
It’s about forcing the world to confront what happens when power like mine can’t be contained.
And if something doesn’t hold, if someone doesn’t prove there’s another way to carry it, then everything that comes next won’t be decided in a courtroom.