The Woven spies did not try to persuade the Still-Singers with words. They knew that logic and rhetoric would be useless against such deeply held convictions. Instead, they brought them the data itself—the raw, un-redacted schematics of the Nullifier, intercepted from the Purists’ network. They showed the Still-Singers the weapon’s projected path, a wave of absolute erasure that would make no distinction between a spy and an artist. The proof was undeniable, a cold, hard fact that could not be reinterpreted or ignored. For the first time, the Still-Singers fell silent. Their songs of defiance and beauty seemed to mock them now, a hollow echo in the face of their own impending extinction. The choice was no longer between art and violence, but between compromise and oblivion.