I expect Im not doing myself any favors, the girl spoke.

Favors?

Remaining silent. Youre here to judge me, and silence is damning.

Im not so sure I like the word judge. Evaluate is a better word. Listen is better still. I want to listen to you, because I cant help you if I dont understand you, and I want my understanding of you to come from your words, Jessica Yamada spoke.

Silence says a great deal, does it not? I recently heard a man speak to the people in charge about the homeless, the masses of refugees we are still trying to find homes. He spoke of needs, of women and children, and of families that have been broken because temporary shelters dont allow the men within. He proposed a plan, then justified it with a diatribe on humanity and pity, leadership and the threat of unrest, the threat of people manifesting powers, and he talked of faith. He finished on that note. Do you know what point the canniest people in the room are left paying attention to?

You were talking about silence. Something the man didnt say.

You are paying attention, the girl said, sounding mildly surprised.

Its my job.

Then youre already aware that what one leaves out is as telling as what they include. The void in our speech, if you will. The gaps. The man said nothing of resources, of food supplies, because he does not want to raise the topic, and he has no answers there. Silence can be louder than words.

The therapist nodded. Its an interesting thought, and its one we could talk at length about, but, please excuse me for saying so, I think youre dodging the question.

Dodging?

Evading, avoiding-

I was not asking for clarification, doctor. I was expressing indignation, the girl said, stressing the last word. There was a kind of vibration in the words as she said it.

Whatever else you are, youre still human.

There was a time Id have swiftly responded to that, the girl said. You would be dead, if you were fortunate enough.

And youre acting like I should be able to read something in your silence. The problem is that speech needs periods of silence to be intelligible, to separate the words and keep it from being a steady drone of noise. To frame it. The opposite is true. To find the meaning in whats left unsaid, we need words to punctuate it.

The girl opposite Jessica Yamada frowned just a little. Her deep green eyes didnt move a fraction as she met the therapists. It held an intensity that suggested she could have faced down a stampeding elephant or an airborne missile. Very reluctantly, she said, Fair.

The therapist relaxed a touch, sitting back in her chair. What we do here is up to you. Ive had patients who enjoy this kind of verbal jousting. Many walk into a first session with preconceived ideas, that theyll be forced to lie on a couch and bare their vulnerabilities while I pry at them with questions. A debate gives them their power back.

Its the approach that makes sense. The, er, the girl stumbled uncharacteristically as she searched for a word, parahumans they tend towards conflict.

There is a lot of evidence to suggest thats the case. Do you? Tend towards conflict?

No. Which is a good thing, I imagine. My other half was always more patient, more relaxed than most. Its duty was always at the end. For those who had duties at the beginning, it would be harder.

How do you define beginning and end, when its a cycle?

Beginnings and endings, the girl mused. She smiled a little. Im tempted to say you just know. That its instinctual, you know what you are. But thats something of a cowards answer. More correct to say that you can distinguish the two when theres a long, long journey in the middle.

The therapist shifted her position, taking a glass of water from the table beside her and sipping it.

No doubt inviting me to keep talking, the girl thought. She turned her attention to her drink. It was cold. She exercised her power, reaching into the deep dark well within her, and withdrawing a single individual.

Pletama, the firesinger.

The individual emerged, coalescing from shadows. A woman, dark skinned, with skin painted in wild colors that had once hidden her features as well as any mask. Where it had once been paint and flesh, the barest minimum of cloth, the flesh ridged. Her eyes burned as she stared out from the shadows of her deep-set eyes.

The girl didnt take her eyes off the therapist as the firesinger reached out and put one glowing fingertip into the water. It took a moment for the liquid to start steaming.

The other two shadows stood at different points in the room. One stared at the bookshelf, its lips moving as it murmured in a voice only the girl could understand. The other stood at the window, arms folded, his cape moving in a wind that wasnt present, hood hiding his features.

The girl in the heavy leather chair, by contrast, wore only a sleeveless top and a knee-length skirt. Both the collar of the top and the skirt had heavy lace at the edges. Her blonde hair was braided. It made her look far younger than she had in previous appearances, and shed looked young then.

You were tempted to say you instinctually know who you are, the therapist said.

The girl tilted her head a fraction.

To be blunt, Id say the vast majority of my patients dont know who they are.

The girl lifted the steaming mug to her lips. The smell of the heavily spiced mead flooded the room. The therapist didnt comment, hadnt commented. She was technically legal, however young she might look.

The girl swallowed, then said, What, not who.

Its the same thing, isnt it?

Perhaps, the girl responded.

The therapist spoke a little slower, as if she were testing her words in her head before she spoke. Exceedingly careful. You seemed to know who or what you were, before, and you changed your mind.

People are allowed to do that. To change. The response was dismissive, cavalier. All such a statement demanded.

Do you consider yourself people, then? Just a minute ago, you said you would have taken offense to the idea.

You harp on. These are all variations on the same question, the girl said.

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.

In what sense? the therapist asked. One who has murdered, or one who murders?

Same thing, isnt it? You dont leave that behind you. Nobody lets you.

People can forgive and forget.

They might forget murder, they might forgive madness, but they wont be so ready to make peace with a lunatic murderer, the girl said. She sniffed a little, as if scoffing at the thought. You wanted to know who I am? I was perhaps Scions greatest ally, until I wasnt.

Why werent you?

When the girl spoke, an echo had creeped into her voice. A chorus. You know, I could kill everyone, if I so chose? If I decided to stand, right here and right now, and kill you all, it would be fully within my power?

The therapist didnt flinch.

Do you doubt me? The chorus was there in full. A hundred voices from one mouth.

To be honest, I dont know enough about the combat side of things to say, Ms. Yamada said.

Its cause for any sane person to worry for their welfare, and for the welfare of their loved ones. You pretend indifference.

Im anything but indifferent. Im 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 said. She stood abruptly from the chair. Two of the shadows dissipated into smoke.

Prolapse, torturers son.

Ph comt, rider in daylight.

The two new shadows took their place on either side of her. Big individuals. Villains, once upon a time.

The therapist continued, Youve stopped calling yourself the Faerie Queen. When I asked for a name, you stayed silent, and you sat there for nearly twenty minutes before talking. You could have helped Scion and destroyed us all then. You didnt. Im asking you what happened. Its clearly important to you.

The girls eyes didnt waver, but she lowered her chin a touch, and the angle of her head cast her features in deeper shadow. When she spoke, the choir of voices that came from her mouth was calm. Do you have a preference, in how youd like to die? I have a range of powers at my disposal. There are swift methods, but perhaps youd like to go out more dramatically? If you beg for mercy, I could spare others.

Youre allowed to say you dont know the answer, Ciara. If it comes down to that, then I can suggest an answer and we can explore it together.

The girl had gone still. Her shadows were flexing, one cracking knuckles on a hand roughly the size of the therapists entire upper body.

The girl considered the visuals of crushing the therapist, the way flesh would pulp and seep between the shadows great fingers. It was a good alternative to dwelling on the feelings that had just stirred.

Nobody has called me by that name in a very long time, the words were more a threat than anything.

It was in the records, Ms. Yamada said, I need to hear the answer from your lips first, before I can offer you my thoughts. But let me warn you, Im only offering a suggestion. Food for thought. I read the transcripts from the debriefing you gave Chevalier. You talked about anchors. I dont want you to anchor to anything I say. Use it to find your own answer, instead.

You claim to know me better than I know myself.

Well discuss that point if and when we get that far. For now, I need to know your thoughts on what happened.

I-

But please sit down, first, the therapist said. We both know you could kill me at any moment, here. Having them here doesnt change that, but its

It is admittedly vulgar, the girl supplied.

The therapist nodded. Well go with that.

The shadows dissipated.

Ampelos, the ill-fated. I was the ill fate.

Daimones, the lost.

The ones who replaced them were children. One, young enough to be androgynous, wore a long-sleeved shirt that hung down to its knees. It spun in place, skipping, then spinning again, a toddler at play. The other explored the room. The man with the hood and cape remained by the window, arms folded, staring out at the world beyond.

Ciara spoke. He broke. He was strong, he was noble, proud. He was a monster, alien. They brought out the humanity in him, and then they broke him. I could have stepped in, but I didnt. I dont know why.

The words were a challenge more than an admission. A demand for a better answer.

Would you like to hear my theory, then?

As you wish, Ciara replied. She didnt quite manage to feign the indifference she was going for.

Youre exactly what you appear to be.

What do I appear to be, doctor?

An adolescent.

Ciara frowned. I had hoped for a good answer. Im older than you.

Only just. Chronologically, I think were the same age, nine months apart.

You miss my point, Ciara said, clearly annoyed.

No. I got it. Chronologically, youre older, and by those measures, your youth is only a mask you wear. By other measures, youre still a child. You triggered at a very young age, you were no doubt isolated, as masters tend to be. No doubt surviving purely by your own methods. Somewhere along the way, something happened. You stole the wrong power, you fought someone and lost, or you found yourself in a bad situation. In the course of that event or in the wake of it, you unlocked stronger powers, and they eclipsed you as a person. Am I too far off track, here?

Ciara didnt respond. Her hard stare was a challenging one, now, a hard stare.

You were still a child, and you needed rules and a foundation to define yourself by, as any child does. Your chose your anchor, chose Scion, and you formed your view of capes as faerie to distance yourself from a world you barely felt in touch with. You built up your persona as Glaistig Uaine, a name others gave you. It might have even played a role in why you turned yourself in and took up residence in the Birdcage. You craved structure.

Youre calling me a child?

Im suggesting you were functionally a child until a very short time ago. Youre now an adolescent. Scion was a powerful figure in your life, owing at least partially to your powers involvement in your day to day, minute-to-minute existence. Virtually every child goes through a phase where their parents are invulnerable, incapable of failure, strong, and beautiful. They grow out of that phase when reality challenges that assumption. If what Im suggesting was true, well, reality never challenged the assumption because it was true, in Scions case.

Up until the moment he began to lose, Ciara said.

Many begin to rebel against their parental figures around the time they enter adolescence, around the time they start seeing their parent as flawed humans. In your case, it was a faster process. A moments decision. Whether Im right or not, you were thrust into a new mode of thinking, a new mode of being, and it has to be bewildering.

Your theory, then, is that the most powerful cell block leader of the Birdcage was a mere child, however old she might have appeared? That the answer to my present crisis in identity is that I am a mere teenager?

For the adolescent, the greatest, most defining challenge is to find themselves. To seek out identity. For the unpowered youth, its often a question of what clique they fit in, what clothes they wear, how they express themselves, and what path they want to step forward on, in terms of possible careers. For powered youth, its about all of the things I just mentioned, as well as the villain and hero labels, their place on the team, their place in family, the bonds they form. These are questions youre now asking yourself. Am I wrong?

I dislike being painted with such broad strokes, doctor, Ciara spoke.

There are always variations, Ms. Yamada said. Id never approach a patient with the idea that it comes down to this and this alone. Its a starting point. You need to find yourself, and you need to do it with the burdens of the strongest human being on the planet. Im telling you, here and now, that this is something everyone faces at some juncture. Its perfectly alright to define yourself as someone who is looking for definition.

The girl smiled a little. She lifted her mug to her lips, then wiped her mouth with her thumb.

The therapist took another drink of water. Youre smiling? I suppose I dont need to worry about my impending death, then?

When Ciara spoke again, her voice was normal. What you said is a thought. I was smiling because I was wondering what your superiors would think if they knew what youd told me. A powerful parahuman, free to find herself? Perhaps Ill follow in the footsteps of my parent.

I dont have any superiors, the therapist said. The PRT is done. There are groups trying to cobble together a replacement, but its looking shaky at best. Im here because I was invited, and because I want to help people. Id like to help you. I think everyone would be much happier if we found you a path that isnt following in his footsteps.

Did I ask for your help?

Youre still here, Jessica Yamada said. Y-

She didnt get further. There was a knock on the door.

The concern on the womans face, Ciara noted, was more than it had been when shed been threatened with her own imminent death.

Please excuse me. The woman stood from her chair and crossed the room. She opened the door.

Ciara watched as the figure unfolded before her. A giant armored in the skin of a monster, a knight, a wisp of a figure, all at once. She could see his very presence tearing through the doorframe, the slightest movement tearing whole sections of the building to rubble. She could feel the vibrations, taste the dust in the air.

But that was only one version of the building, out of sight, out of mind.

As if she was squinting without moving her eyelids, she refined her vision, saw him as the therapist saw him. A man in gold and black armor.

His voice was barely audible. Ms. Yamada. Im sorry to int-

Im in a session, Chevalier. An exceedingly important session.

I know. Im really very sorry. I had a small opening in my schedule. I was hoping for just one minute to talk with you.

Im in a session. You agreed to abide by any rules I set. This was a pretty big one.

If I didnt talk to you now, Id have to wait three days to get another chance. My hands are full.

I can imagine. But Im in a session.

One minute. Trust me when I say I know how important it is that you stick to your rules. But this is important enough that I have to ask. Can I have one minute of your time?

The woman hesitated.

Please.

The therapist turned, meeting Ciaras eyes. No, Chevalier, I-

Ill 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.

Ms. Yamada frowned. Ill be back shortly.

The door closed.

Roucouler, the Liar.

The little girl that was exploring the room dissipated. A man appeared behind Ciaras seat, his leering grin stretched into a caricature, a mockery of what hed worn in life. His teeth had no divides between them, making them one bony shelf, and his eyes were stretched into slants by the too-wide grin. A cartoonish appearance.

Roucouler leaned over the top of the chair, and she could hear his whispers, in a French accent. He pitched his voice to distinguish between the two.

-cohol in there?

She had her shadow make it for her. Shes not the type to get drunk, and its 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 cant talk about my sessions with my patients. If were going to talk, lets talk about your business.

Im running out of time. Three days from now is too long to wait, because things take time to set in motion. Im going to have to start making decisions, about amnesty for everyone who participated in the fight, about the hero teams, how were going to administrate a city that has more sheer depth than anything weve ever conceived of. That woman, in there, shes at the crux of this. Choices I make in regards to her affect everything else. If I forego amnesty for her, if I have to forego amnesty for her, then Im drawing a line in the sand, and others are going to wonder if they fall too close to that line.

I cant tell you how the session is going, Chevalier.

I hate that you even have to say that. Im not going to ask you to violate any confidentiality. Im saying I could really do with you making your evaluation and then sending her on her way. Theres apartments here, we can set her up very comfortably. As comfortably as a queen might want. If she needs further therapy, you can send her there. If shes stable enough to discuss business, be it amnesty or something else entirely, you could send her to me.

I understand what youre saying. If shes dangerous enough to warrant violating confidentiality, it doesnt matter. If she isnt, then I can let you know how the therapy went without explicitly telling you. Im not entirely comfortable with this.

There have been more overt communications on this front in other situations. Situations that werent so grave. We cant afford not to know.

I cant afford to tell you, Chevalier. I just let me think on it.

Thats all I ask. We need help, Jessica. I know you cant make a full judgement in three days, not with someone as complex as she is. But a starting point could make all the difference.

I understand.

Were putting the pieces back together. The scale of it is the biggest issue. All these worlds. Theres room for people to start piecing their cultures and their cities back together, theres wilderness. Everything old is still there. Sometimes multiplied many times over. But theres a lot of new, with more every day. Its all exaggerated. We dont have clout, and there are a lot of powerful people throwing their weight around. Scary people.

Speaking of

Your patient, Ive kept you too long. Im sorry.

No. Im wondering about someone who was a patient some time ago. Can I ask about this Khepri?

You can ask, but you wont like the answer. I wouldnt want you to be distracted for the remainder of your session in there.

Ciara heard the Liar sigh, mimicking the woman on the other side of the door. Ill take your word on that. I should get back to Ciara.

Ciara? Her civilian name. Im going to walk away feeling optimistic about that.

My lips are sealed, Chevalier.

There was no goodbye. The door handle moved, and the door swung open. Roucouler disappeared.

Pime Abtiss, mother of the blind.

Another shadow appeared as the therapist entered the room. A blindfolded woman with a small, deformed baby in her arms, umbilical cord stretching into a gap in the robe.

Ciara could see a glimpse of the giant in the hallway, retreating, before the door shut.

Im very sorry. That took longer than I expected, Ms. Yamada said, as she took her seat.

No matter, Ciara said. She ran her hand over the babys misshapen head. It dissipated into shadow, along with Pime Abtiss. She didnt replace it with another shadow. Forgive me, I overheard.

The therapist reacted a little to that. There was a moments pause, as if she was recalling everything that was said, searching for any damning detail.

Ill spare you the dilemma, doctor. When we are done, tell me where I should go. I relieve you of any confidentiality, tell the Destroyer what you must.

I dont think thats what we should aim for, the therapist said. If we go with my theory from before, then youve only just started making strides on your own. Youre growing up, belatedly, and you need to start making choices for yourself.

Youd let me choose?

I think a better place to start would be figuring out who you want to be. That equips you to choose, if you feel youre ready.

And what if I were to say youre being presumptuous, that I dont need your help? I know who I am? There was a threatening note to the girls voice, a return of that echo.

Then we can talk about something else. Or you can go, if thats what you really want.

Ciara didnt move, and her shadows remained in place, poised like animals ready to pounce.

While the girl remained still, the three shadows resumed their ordinary business.

Lets begin, then, Ms. Yamada said.

The rooftop was lined with crenelations and a wrought metal railing in a metal darker and stronger than iron. Some capes rested in the spaces between the twists of metal, while others sat with their backs to the shorter wall beneath it. The crowd had gathered around.

But the moment she relaxed, it became something else. Phantom images, a man on fire, a woman who stood half again as tall as others. Images like her own shadows, caricatures, exaggerations, powers manifested physical. Except these were undoubtedly alive. They shifted from moment to moment.

Legend? the Destroyer- Chevalier spoke. His voice echoed, but despite the massive size of his one suit of armor, or the slight form of his other suit, mangling the body within, the three voices were the same, only coming from different places.

A man who blazed with light stepped forward. He was a living bonfire, blue-white in color, with living etchings solid in the midst of it, white hot, a stylized mixture of flame and lightning in one shape, floating in the storm of energy. They marked the position of his head, of his chest, his hands and feet.

When the Coruscant Knave spoke, though, his voice was normal. Legend, she reminded herself.

I was there at the beginning. I suppose its fitting that Im here at the end. Maybe not right, theres a hell of a lot Im sorry for, but its fitting.

He took a deep breath, the flame swelling. They say a pictures worth a thousand words. Lets shorten this speech, then and take a second to look.

He gestured, and heads turned.

New York, in the process of being rebuilt. Dust and ominous clouds were being held at bay by a thin forcefield, and the city stood in the center of a brilliant sunlight. Where glass had broken and where oils had risen to the tops of city streets, things almost glittered. A shining city.

For every damaged area, there were people, fixing things, scavenging and hauling things away. Tents and tarps were erected, barriers raised. Already, buildings were going up where portals had been torn between realities.

Chevalier had called it a city with depth. It was true. Most cities existed on a two dimensional level, spreading along the four cardinal directions. Buildings extended above and below ground, but even the tallest building was but a fraction of a distance compared to the breadth of the city.

Here, in this city, one could travel to one area and make a turn into another world. There, they would find the fledgling beginnings of an expansion, sprawling from that central point.

It was too much to manage. Even the smallest villains had elbow room to maneuver and manipulate.

Ive never been one to couch my words. Im direct, like my lasers, Legend said. Its beautiful and its frankly terrifying. The Endbringers are, were praying, dormant. The major players are busy recovering and rebuilding, giving us six straight months of peace for the first time in twenty years. If you count non-parahuman conflict on a global scale, well, I dont know how long its been. Its been a hell of a while, if ever.

Ciara closed her eyes briefly. When she reopened them, Legend was his human self.

Tiring, to maintain focus.

The peace will end. It always ends. When things go bad, itll be worse because weve had the break, because its had time to stew, and because were still reeling from last time. But I know you, Ive fought alongside a number of you. The badges you wear are signs of that.

Ciara glanced around. Like her, many of the capes wore a simple symbol on their upper arms, a golden circle with a golden dot in the middle. For some, it was a loop of cloth, for others, it was engraved on armor.

A simple symbol testifying that theyd been there.

Theres no more oversight, for better or for worse. That means its our job to keep our eyes open, to watch each others backs, and to watch each other. I can tell you right now its not going to be perfect. Maybe Im a living reminder of the fact that we cant trust anyone. For those of you who were paying attention, the circumstances of Alexandrias demise in Brockton Bay are a testament to what happens when the corruption runs too deep. Nobody benefits.

Legend sighed. Some are still angry at me. At Alexandria, Eidolon, and others, who played parts. But you havent spoken up, you havent interrupted me. Id like to think its because were all recognizing the same fact. This? Its our second chance. Something weve all dreamed about from time to time. A chance to cut out the rot and start anew, to fix things that were broken before.

There were one or two nods around the group.And its going to be hard, Legend said. Those who know how badly we fucked it up on the last try, who know the full story, they get why this is so frightening a prospect. We still have to clean up the messes from last time, and we have to be doubly, triply sure we move ahead properly this time. Already, there are people plotting to take advantage of present circumstances. Already, there are things going wrong. Its an uphill battle.

But, Chevalier cut in, Like those badges we wear show, weve all fought in at least one bitch of a battle, and we came out ahead.

Ill be damned if were not ready for this one, Legend agreed.

Cheers rose from the group. Fists pumped in the air, boots stomped.

And, Legend said, while the cheering was present but dying down, With all that said, were moving forward with our second chances. Id like to introduce you to the newest member of our Wardens. Valkyrie.

He gestured, and the crowd parted. All eyes fell on her. When she stepped forward, she had to be careful, her longer legs unfamiliar. Staying young had come with benefits. The Crone, Schwarze Tante, had been able to give Ciara some of the time shed stored away. The ghost of a hero called Thane had fashioned her armor, shield and sickle.

The crowd parted as she approached.

The body of a nineteen year old was an unfamiliar one, the costume even more so. Gold and sky blue. The cloth that dangled from her belt traced the insides of her thighs to her knees, the skirt stopped mid-thigh, silent even with the gold chains that traced its edges. The mask didnt block any of her vision, but it pressed against her cheekbones and forehead, reminding her of its presence. Even her hair was longer, tied back in a thick braid.

She liked the wings, though. The wings were good. The rest would take getting used to, after thirty years as the childlike Faerie Queen, but the wings were a natural fit from the start.

Youve formed a new Triumvirate, a cape in the crowd said.

It might have sounded accusatory.

Valkyrie will be starting on the bottom, Legend said. Shell earn her way to whatever rank is most fitting.

There were murmurs in the crowd. For many, the sentiment was the same. I think we know what rank that will be.

For every two people that thought the strength she brought to the table was a good thing, there was one who was suspicious, doubting, or discouraged. They knew who she was. The figures that accompanied her made it clear enough. She couldnt think of them as shadows anymore.

She liked debating words, the power of words, of titles. It had been her favorite part of the sessions with the therapist. The subject of renaming them had come up in the recent past, along with the discussion of what her new identity meant, and her new name.

Valkyrie, warrior women who guided the souls of dead warriors to the afterlife. These spirits were her warriors, not mere shadows.

No, perhaps two people in her camp to one person against was optimistic. There were others harboring doubts, a little slower to offer their congratulations. Given time and a night to think about it, they would start to think about what her presence meant, that they might fall in battle and that she would claim them for herself, adding to her own power.

Her vision flashed. For a moment, she might as well have been in hell. The capes here on the rooftop were inhuman, even monstrous, distorted and exaggerated. The city glowed with the distant presence of other capes, as though it were on fire.

Valkyrie resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose or shake her head. Her heart pounded long after the image had faded.

Nobody had said this would be easy. Just the opposite.

The speech was done, and the city around them demanded attention. Slowly, capes began peeling away from the group.

Hey, Valkyrie? Miss Militia asked.

Valkyrie turned her head.

Miss Militia jerked one thumb in the direction of a man with a massive round shield and spear. Want to join us for a meal? Were leaving on patrol soon, so we were going to grab an early dinner. Youre welcome to come with.

Valkyrie opened her mouth to speak, then thought twice about it.

She was still learning to talk normally, to stop affecting the faerie nobles manner of speech. She was getting lessons, and it wasnt perfect yet. If she spoke, it would turn heads.

Except here, now, she almost missed the familiarity of it. The power of her old voice.

No obligation, Miss Militia said. Honest. I get it.

Miss Militia had been the one to invite Ms. Yamada in, to connect them, and give her a chance. She knew, perhaps better than Chevalier or Legend.

Valkyrie offered her a tight smile, then turned to leave.

When she walked down the hall, flanked by her three chosen warriors, her heels struck the floor. There were Wardens in the hall, talking.

Wheres Defiant?

Complete radio silence.

She was half again as tall as she had been, fit, glittering in armor, carrying a weapon and shield, and she felt more fragile than she had in a long time.

Incomplete.

Her vision flickered again, like lightning before a crash of thunder.

As the Faerie Queen, shed had a mission. Shed been a part of something vast, a powerful engine that had reshaped whole civilizations, then erased worlds from the universe.

Weve got muscle now. Might be we can make headway. Retake the Eastern Queens portal.

Shh. Eyes turned towards her. They talked about her like she was a secret.

Too many people. She needed to talk to the therapist, but Ms. Yamada wasnt here. Shed come at a moments notice, with only one phone call, but it somehow felt like that would only compound the feeling of fragility.

I wanted to be more human.

Never human, per se. Only more human. Parahuman, instead of inhuman.

Shed spent so much time in therapy, figuring out what Scion had been to her, coming to terms with the loss of the pillar hed become in her psyche.

In trying to distance herself from him, had she set herself on the exact same path?

Seeing the flickers in the crowd wasnt helping. She avoided them, making her way downstairs, into an adjoining structure. Once upon a time, shed used that other sight exclusively. In this, in the here and now, she was warring with the keeper of the dead. A part of why she felt incomplete, fragile. They craved purpose. It took a special kind of willpower to avoid using abilities altogether. Some did, but they were rare.

Using her power meant killing, it meant being around the dead, immersing herself in the gravest kinds of conflict.

Would her experiment in humanity be so short lived?

She found an empty hallway and took it. Things were under construction here, hidden behind plastic. She ignored it, taking the paths that were available to her.

Finally, she came to a large room, a cafeteria, apparently, unfinished. Only half of the tables were present, the kitchen unoccupied and unstocked. The serving area had two tracks where trays could slide. One of the two racks was behind a thick plexiglass barrier.

She sat down on a table, her feet on the bench, lost in thought.

Not five seconds in, her official phone rang.

She ignored it. I only want some peace.

This wasnt her. Had it been madness? Arrogance? Joining the side of the angels?

Her vision was distorting. Even this far away from other parahumans, her other sight was showing their presence as a glow, as ripples. She turned her eyes skyward, but one figure streaked through the sky, well above her.

She heard voices, and turned.

We meet again, Faerie Queen, the voice echoed through the chamber.

She turned to see a thin man accompanied by a brutish caveman of a figure, walking on the other side of the thick plexiglass. A child was on this side, petite, blonde, wearing a sweatshirt and jeans with pink sneakers.

Valkyrie felt a pang of jealousy. She missed her old body, and the girl resembled her, superficially.

Goblin King, Valkyrie responded. I dont go by that name anymore.

A pity, a pity. This is my Alice, visiting our not-so-wondrous Wonderland.

Riley, the girl said. I keep telling you, its not Alice, Riley.

A mere title, not a name, the man tittered some. It was an eerie sound, coming from someone his age and gender. Not that Valkyrie minded. Shed dealt with worse in the Birdcage.

Nevermind, Riley said. Alice it is. Whatev.

Valkyrie looked between the two. Are you allowed to be here?

Im incarcerated, the Goblin King said. Shes visiting.

Officially visiting. Theyre watching me. Probably watching you, too. Weve played nice for the last stretch, and the illustrious Nilbog gets visits as a reward, so long as hes good. We each keep our distance from the barrier, and they dont use the cameras to fill us full of darts.

Valkyrie followed the girls eye to a camera mounted in the corner.

As you can tell, I keep friends of the highest caliber, Riley said.

Yes, yes, the man said, seeming very pleased with himself. The sarcasm appeared to be lost on him. A fallen king is still a king, yes?

If he can hold his head high, then hes more kingly than a man who relies on the crown and silks, Valkyrie said.

Yes! Yes! Quite right! Nilbog agreed.

Riley was smiling, as if despite herself.

The phone was ringing again. Valkyrie canceled the call. She knew why they were calling, now. They were less than comfortable with this trio in one room together.

No matter.

I came for my weekly dose of sanity, if you know what I mean, Riley said. Spend enough time with them, you need a break from it all.

I do believe I know what you mean, Valkyrie said. You mean just the opposite. A weekly dose of madness. A return to the familiar. Both for comfort, and to serve as a reminder of how far theyd come.

Dangerous, perhaps. She wondered if shed share this with Ms. Yamada.

Probably. People would pass on word. They were all being tracked, no doubt.

But would she share what this meant to her? That she felt more secure than she had, leaving the rooftop meeting and speech?

Shall we share stories of long ago? Nilbog asked. Of our kingdoms, as they were?

We could, Valkyrie said. Tragedies? Comedies?

In my stories, Riley said, The line between tragedy and comedy is awfully thin.

I suspect my stories are mostly tragedies, Valkyrie said. Everyone worth talking about dies in the end.

Just the opposite for me, the Goblin King said. He ran one hand along the cheek of the neanderthal figure beside him. When he turned to face the barrier, he limped, and the brutish man helped him stay balanced. My favorites persist, they keep coming back to start the adventure anew, a little different every time. This is my helper. They allow me him, only him.

For a man talking about comedies, he looked sad.

The amnesty still hasnt gone through in entirety. There are snarls, like this king without a crown or a kingdom.

There were distant running footsteps, growing in volume as they drew closer, suggesting that capes were en route to intercept her.

Valkyrie glanced over her shoulder.

I suspect this visit will be cut short.

Fuck, Riley said. Not that the goblin king isnt awesome, but

She trailed off.

Maybe another time, Valkyrie said. She raised her hands as the capes entered the room from the far corner. She had to pick her words carefully, so she wouldnt sound strange. Im being good.

Wed like to play it safe, one of the capes said. If you dont mind.

I understand.

Another day, Faerie Queen, Nilbog said. He smiled, bowing a little.

Valkyrie returned the bow. When she rose to her full height, she was smiling a little in turn. It surprised her.

Flip sides of the same coin.

Rebirth.

The act was an idle one, like one might move a hand inside a pocket to double check there was nothing inside it. She used her power. Bringing one of her warriors through, on the other side of the barrier.

The neanderthal reacted. Valkyries warrior didnt manifest in full, but it flowed through the neanderthals body before rejecting the host.

Almost. Close.

Shepherd of the dead, Valkyrie thought, as she walked away. The Goblin King was shushing his creation.

They were all parts of a whole. The Chirurgeon, the Maker, the Keeper of the Dead. It only made sense that there would be synergies between such abilities.

A way to bring her dead back, perhaps?

She could see them, in the dark recesses, waiting, loyal, obedient. The ones shed collected, some still mending from the great fight six months ago.

She felt better now. Less incomplete. Her other half was content with this line of thinking.

She just wasnt sure where shed take it.