"For who?! For a ghost," Jareth spat. "For someone he'd never met."
The words came faster now.
"He kept saying it had to go to the right person. That everything he built was meant for someone worthy. Worthy of what? We were right there. We bled for him. We killed for him. We protected his back every time the guns turned on him."
He let out a harsh breath.
"And he set aside his legacy for a stranger."
Lyra's eyes flickered.
"That's what broke it," Jareth continued. "That's what started the mutiny. People can tolerate discipline. They can tolerate risk. They can even tolerate danger. But they don't tolerate being told they're placeholders."
The truth underneath his words was clear now. It wasn't a strategy or a vision. It was hunger.
