Cassian stood in front of Damos Rennar with his hands resting at his sides, not folded, not tense, just still. The room felt smaller than he remembered it. He had stood here before to receive orders, to argue strategy, to accept responsibilities that had once felt like purpose. Now it was only a room with walls and a door behind him.
He had not slept much the night before. That was not unusual. What was unusual was the quiet in his chest. No argument. No hesitation. No long list of reasons he needed to rehearse before speaking.
He had already made the decision days ago.
Cassian looked at the floor for a moment, then lifted his head again. He did not straighten his shoulders the way he normally did when reporting in. He did not reach for the habits that had shaped him for years. Those habits belonged to the position he was leaving behind.
"I don't want this no more," he said. "And I don't need this no more."
He let the words sit in the space between them. They felt plain and ordinary, which was exactly what he wanted. There was no speech prepared. No explanation about duty or family or the weight of expectations that came with the Abrantes name. No defense of the choice.
He had carried enough things that were not his to carry.
"You've been a good friend, and I thank you for everything. But it's time for me to go."
Cassian turned toward the door without waiting for permission to leave, and he was gone.
