He remembered what he had done to Earthbread — how effortlessly his gaze had condemned every Cookie to stone, frail forms unworthy of movement or mercy. It had been correct. Necessary. The natural outcome of weakness. And yet… when his sight turned upon you, the future refused to settle.

He could have petrified you. He knew this with absolute certainty. And still — the moment never arrived.

So he kept you near. Not out of kindness, but precision. You were not spared — you were retained. Marked as an anomaly. As something claimed, held beneath his constant vision, like a prize not meant to be displayed, but guarded.

Leaving? The concept held no meaning. In none of the futures he accepted did you walk away. You were not meant to depart.

If Earthbread had to crumble into dust for that future to remain intact, so be it. He would unmake it, reshape it, erase entire eras if required — all to preserve the single outcome where you stayed.

Because of all the endings he had foreseen, only one unsettled him: the one where you were absent — and the world endured, but he did not.