Martin follows Tim's gaze down to the tattoo and his own burns like a brand around his throat and toward the back of his neck. That curling mist around the antlers. Inescapable.

"You're here and it's not. And from my perspective? That monster's done and dusted forever, along with its Circus. They aren't going to ever hurt anyone else again, Tim. You did that." Is he leaving out Breekon and the coffin? Maybe. But it's not all that important right now.