Aarav started refusing the title.
Not out loudno speeches, no announcementsbut quietly, in the way that mattered.
He stopped stepping into light.
He stopped standing in front.
He stopped being first.
Crossfall noticed.
"You didn't answer the call from the Ash Spiral," Mira said, leaning against the doorway of his room.
Aarav was sitting on the floor, hands wrapped around a cup of something warm he'd forgotten the name of.
"I forwarded it," he replied.
"To who?" she asked.
"To themselves."
She stared. "That's not how this works."
"That's exactly how it should," he said.
Mira sighed and sat beside him. "You're dismantling your own legend."
Aarav laughed softly. "Good."
"You used to run toward collapse."
"I still do," he said. "I just don't lead with fire anymore."
She studied him.
"You're afraid."
He didn't deny it.
"I've seen what happens when people turn me into a solution," he said. "They stop solving things themselves."
Mira's voice softened. "You can't blame yourself for that."
"I can," he replied. "Because I liked it."
She froze.
"I liked being needed," he said. "I liked being important."
He looked at his hands.
"And that's how gods are born."
The room fell silent.
Outside, Crossfall pulsedno longer with certainty, but with negotiation. Worlds weren't calling for salvation anymore.
They were calling for advice.
For witnesses.
For perspective.
Not miracles.
"You're not a hero anymore," Mira said quietly.
Aarav nodded.
"That's the point."
---
They visited a world that afternoon that had once worshipped him.
Not in templeshe'd shut those downbut in stories, murals, children's songs.
When he arrived, people knelt.
He felt sick.
"Stop," he said immediately.
No one moved.
"You don't have to do that," he insisted.
A woman looked up, trembling. "You saved us."
"No," he said. "You survived."
"That's the same," she whispered.
"No," he said gently. "It isn't."
He sat down in the dust.
On the ground.
At their level.
"I didn't come to be thanked," he said. "I came to ask you something."
The crowd murmured.
"What happens to you when I'm gone?" he asked.
Silence.
Fear rippled.
Someone whispered, "You won't leave."
He closed his eyes.
"I will."
The word shattered them.
"But you're our protector."
He shook his head.
"I'm not supposed to be."
A child asked, "Then who is?"
Aarav smiled softly.
"You."
The crowd didn't like that answer.
People never did.
"What if we fail?" someone shouted.
"You will," he replied.
"And then?" another asked.
"You'll try again."
They didn't cheer.
They didn't smile.
They were scared.
Good.
Fear meant responsibility.
Aarav stood.
"I'm not your ending," he said. "I'm your beginning."
They didn't understand.
Not yet.
But he didn't need them to.
He only needed them to live without him.
---
That night, Mira found him on the highest balcony.
"You're fading," she said.
He didn't look at her.
"I'm stepping back."
"That's the same thing."
"No," he said. "Fading is being forgotten. This is… leaving space."
"For what?"
"For people to matter again."
She swallowed.
"And you?"
He smiled faintly.
"I'm learning how to be small."
Mira laughed bitterly. "You broke gods."
"Yeah," he said. "Now I want to break myself."
She stared.
"That's not healthy."
He shrugged. "Neither is worship."
Mira leaned against the railing beside him.
"Do you regret it?" she asked.
He thought.
"No."
"Even after the city that chose to die?"
He inhaled sharply.
"Especially after that."
Silence.
Then he said, "Heroes don't let people choose their own endings."
Mira closed her eyes.
"You're right."
He looked at the stars.
For the first time, they didn't feel like expectations.
They felt like… distance.
And distance felt like peace.
Far away, in a reality that had once awaited a savior
Someone else stepped forward.
Not glowing.
Not chosen.
Just brave.
And the universe did not collapse.