E.1
Okay, here is the 5x compressed summary of chapter E.1 in 1364 words:
The girl sat across from therapist Jessica Yamada, deep green eyes intense and unwavering. “Silence says a great deal,” she remarked, referencing a recent speech about the homeless. What’s omitted is as telling as what’s included.
Yamada agreed, but pressed, “I think you’re dodging the question.”
“Indignation,” the girl corrected, a vibration in her voice.
“You’re still human,” Yamada noted.
“You would be dead, if you were fortunate enough,” the girl responded, then challenged Yamada to read her silence. But silence needs words to give it meaning, just as speech needs silence.
“Fair,” the girl conceded, reluctantly.
Yamada explained that their sessions were up to the girl. Some patients enjoyed verbal sparring, others resisted the perceived vulnerability of therapy. “It’s the approach that makes sense,” the girl noted, stumbling slightly, “parahumans… they tend towards conflict.”
“There is evidence to suggest that,” Yamada agreed. “Do you?”
“No. My other half was always more patient… its duty was always at the end.”
“How do you define beginning and end, when it’s a cycle?”
The girl smiled. “Instinctually… But that’s a coward’s answer. More correct to say that you can distinguish the two when there’s a long, long journey in the middle.”
Yamada sipped her water, inviting the girl to continue. The girl summoned a shadow, Põletama, the firesinger, who heated her spiced mead. Two other shadows stood by, one murmuring at the bookshelf, the other staring out the window, cape billowing in an இல்லாத wind.
“You were tempted to say you instinctually know who you are,” Yamada said.
The girl tilted her head.
“The vast majority of my patients don’t know who they are.”
The girl lifted the steaming mug. “What, not who.”
“It’s the same thing, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps,” the girl responded.
Yamada spoke carefully. “You seemed to know who or what you were, before, and you changed your mind.”
“People are allowed to do that. To change,” the girl said dismissively.
“Do you consider yourself people, then?”
“You harp on. These are all variations on the same question.”
“Yes. Who are you? How do you see yourself? Has that changed?”
“I am very possibly the strongest being alive on this planet, short of the remaining Endbringers.”
“Very possibly.”
“A murderer.”
“One who has murdered, or one who murders?”
“Same thing, isn’t it?”
“People can forgive and forget.”
“They might forget murder, they might forgive madness, but they won’t be so ready to make peace with a lunatic murderer,” the girl scoffed. “You wanted to know who I am? I was perhaps Scion’s greatest ally, until… I wasn’t.”
“Why weren’t you?”
“You know, I could kill everyone, if I so chose?” the girl’s voice echoed, a chorus of a hundred voices.
Yamada didn’t flinch.
“It’s cause for any sane person to worry… You pretend indifference.”
“I’m genuinely more interested in the fact that you seem to be avoiding the subject. A subject you raised.”
“I grow irritated with this pedantry,” the girl stood, two shadows dissipating. Two new ones took their place, large, imposing figures.
Yamada continued, “You’ve stopped calling yourself the Faerie Queen… You could have helped Scion and destroyed us all then. You didn’t. I’m asking you what happened.”
The girl lowered her chin, her voice calm but still a chorus. “Do you have a preference, in how you’d like to die?”
“You’re allowed to say you don’t know the answer, Ciara.”
The girl stilled, her shadows flexing. “Nobody has called me by that name in a very long time.”
“It was in the records,” Yamada said. “I need to hear the answer from your lips… before I can offer you my thoughts.”
“You claim to know me better than I know myself.”
“We’ll discuss that point… For now, I need to know your thoughts on what happened.”
“I-”
“But please sit down, first,” Yamada said.
The shadows dissipated, replaced by two childlike figures and the caped man at the window.
Ciara spoke, “He broke… strong, noble, proud… a monster, alien. They brought out the humanity in him, and then they broke him. I could have stepped in, but I didn’t. I don’t know why.”
“Would you like to hear my theory, then?”
“As you wish,” Ciara replied, not quite feigning indifference.
“You’re exactly what you appear to be.”
“What do I appear to be, doctor?”
“An adolescent.”
Ciara frowned. “I had hoped for a good answer. I’m older than you.”
“Only just… By other measures, you’re still a child… Somewhere along the way, something happened… they eclipsed you as a person. Am I too far off track, here?”
Ciara didn’t respond, her stare hard.
“You were still a child, and you needed rules and a foundation to define yourself… You chose your anchor, chose Scion… built up your persona as Glaistig Uaine… craved structure.”
“You’re calling me a child?”
“Functionally a child until a very short time ago. You’re now an adolescent… reality never challenged the assumption because it was true, in Scion’s case.”
“Up until the moment he began to lose,” Ciara said.
“…you were thrust into a new mode of thinking, a new mode of being, and it has to be bewildering.”
“Your theory, then… I am a mere teenager?”
“…For the unpowered youth, it’s often a question of what clique they fit in… For powered youth, it’s about all of the things I just mentioned, as well as the villain and hero labels… These are questions you’re now asking yourself. Am I wrong?”
“I dislike being painted with such broad strokes, doctor.”
“There are always variations,” Yamada said. “It’s a starting point… It’s perfectly alright to define yourself as ‘someone who is looking for definition’.”
Ciara smiled, then wiped her mouth with her thumb.
“You’re smiling? I suppose I don’t need to worry about my impending death, then?”
Ciara’s voice was normal when she spoke, “What you said is… a thought… Perhaps I’ll follow in the footsteps of my ‘parent’.”
“I don’t have any superiors,” Yamada said. “I’m here because I was invited, and because I want to help people. I’d like to help you.”
“Did I ask for your help?”
“You’re still here,” Yamada said.
A knock on the door interrupted them. Yamada opened it to find Chevalier.
“I’m in a session, Chevalier. An exceedingly important session.”
“I know. I’m really very sorry… Can I have one minute of your time?”
“I’m in a session.”
“One minute… this is important enough that I have to ask.”
Yamada hesitated, then turned to Ciara. “No, Chevalier, I-”
“I’ll manage on my own,” Ciara said. “In fact, I would appreciate having a minute or two in private to think over what we talked about earlier.”
Yamada frowned. “I’ll be back shortly.”
The door closed. Ciara summoned Roucouler, the Liar, who leaned over her chair, whispering.
“-cohol in there?”
“She had her shadow make it for her… more of a comfort thing than anything else.”
“A bear walks into your restaurant. What do you serve him? Anything he damn well wants.”
“There is that. What do you want, Chevalier? This is nerve-wracking enough, without interruptions.”
“Did something happen?”
“I can’t talk about my sessions with my patients… let’s talk about your business.”
“I’m running out of time… Choices I make in regards to her affect everything else… I’m drawing a line in the sand, and others are going to wonder if they fall too close to that line.”
“I can’t tell you how the session is going, Chevalier.”
“I hate that you even have to say that… I’m saying I could really do with you making your evaluation and then sending her on her way… If she needs further therapy, you can send her there. If she’s stable enough to discuss business… you could send her to me.”
“I understand what you’re saying… I’m not entirely comfortable with this.”
“There have been more overt communications on this front in other situations. Situations that weren’t so grave. We can’t afford not to know.”
“I can’t afford to tell you, Chevalier. I just… let me think on it.”
“That’s all I ask… But a starting point could make all the difference.”
“I understand.”
“We’re putting the pieces back together… It’s all exaggerated. We don’t have clout, and there are a lot of powerful people throwing their weight around. Scary people.”
“Speaking of…”
“Your patient, I’ve kept you too long. I’m sorry.”
“No. I’m wondering about someone who was a patient some time ago. Can I ask about this ‘Khepri’?”
“You can ask, but you won’t like the answer…”
Ciara heard the Liar sigh, mimicking the woman. “I’ll take your word on that. I should get back to Ciara.”
“Ciara? Her civilian name. I’m going to walk away feeling optimistic about that.”
“My lips are sealed, Chevalier.”
The door opened, and Yamada returned. Ciara summoned Pime Abtiss, mother of the blind.
“I’m very sorry. That took longer than I expected,” Yamada said.
“No matter,” Ciara said. “Forgive me, I overheard.”
Yamada reacted, pausing.
“I’ll spare you the dilemma, doctor. When we are done, tell me where I should go… tell the Destroyer what you must.”
“I don’t think that’s what we should aim for,” Yamada said. “If we go with my theory from before… you need to start making choices for yourself.”
“You’d let me choose?”
“I think a better place to start would be figuring out who you want to be.”
“And what if I were to say… I know who I am?” The threatening note returned to Ciara’s voice.
“Then we can talk about something else. Or you can go, if that’s what you really want.”
Ciara didn’t move. Her shadows resumed their ordinary business.
“Let’s begin, then,” Yamada said.