Charles feels like he's drawing a line. Past this point, there is no return. Past this point, we will not stand for it. For we are gathered now, coming from the corners and lost places in the world into the sun. But the line's not drawn in blood, or in the sand, or in the dirt, or across the globe. Charles draws his lines in ink, on the corners of the mind, the only place he knows change can happen. Maybe his method works too slowly, maybe it hardly matters at all in the end, but he'll draw his lines how he pleases and maybe it'll be enough, after all.

Because for all the strength it takes to bend a beam, it takes even more to not bend from a path despite the obstacles. When he and Erik move their last pawns of the night, that's the one thing they both know very well in spite of themselves.