The chap­ter intro­duces Essun, an oro­gene liv­ing a qui­et life in the town of Tir­i­mo, where she con­ceals her true nature. As a teacher and the wife of a local stonek­nap­per, Jija, she blends into the back­ground, pre­fer­ring anonymi­ty. Her life shat­ters when she returns home to find her son, Uche, bru­tal­ly mur­dered and her daugh­ter, Nas­sun, miss­ing. Over­whelmed by grief, Essun shuts down, spend­ing two days in a cata­ton­ic state beside Uche’s body, unable to process the hor­ror. The towns­peo­ple, unaware of her tur­moil, con­tin­ue their lives until Ler­na, a local doc­tor, inter­venes.

Ler­na dis­cov­ers Essun’s trau­ma and gen­tly guides her to his home, offer­ing care and a safe space to rest. Essun, numb and detached, com­plies with­out resis­tance, her mind refus­ing to con­front the real­i­ty of her loss. Lerna’s kind­ness con­trasts with the bru­tal­i­ty of her sit­u­a­tion, high­light­ing her iso­la­tion. Even in his care, Essun’s grief man­i­fests in frag­ment­ed thoughts and a haunt­ing dream where she relives Uche’s death, blur­ring the lines between mem­o­ry and night­mare. The dream forces her to con­front the vio­lence inflict­ed by Jija, though her mind dis­torts the details to shield her from the full truth.

As Essun begins to sur­face from her stu­por, Ler­na informs her of a cat­a­stroph­ic seis­mic event to the north, which has sent refugees flee­ing toward Tir­i­mo. The sul­furous air and the influx of sur­vivors hint at a dis­as­ter far worse than a typ­i­cal earth­quake. Essun, though bare­ly func­tion­al, intu­itive­ly sens­es the mag­ni­tude of the event, recall­ing how she uncon­scious­ly divert­ed the seis­mic force to pro­tect Uche’s body. This rev­e­la­tion under­scores her latent pow­er and the broad­er impli­ca­tions of the cat­a­stro­phe, which may be tied to her per­son­al tragedy.

The chap­ter clos­es with a sense of impend­ing doom, as the per­son­al and glob­al scales of dis­as­ter con­verge. Essun’s grief is mir­rored by the world’s upheaval, sug­gest­ing her sto­ry is inter­twined with larg­er forces. Lerna’s care pro­vides tem­po­rary solace, but the unre­solved mys­tery of Nassun’s dis­ap­pear­ance and the loom­ing threat of fur­ther chaos leave Essun—and the reader—on the brink of an uncer­tain future. The nar­ra­tive blends inti­mate trau­ma with apoc­a­lyp­tic fore­shad­ow­ing, set­ting the stage for Essun’s jour­ney.

The chap­ter intro­duces Essun, an oro­gene liv­ing in dis­guise as an ordi­nary woman in the town of Tir­i­mo. For ten years, she has main­tained a qui­et life as a teacher and the wife of a local stonek­nap­per, Jija, blend­ing into the back­ground. How­ev­er, her frag­ile sta­bil­i­ty shat­ters when she returns home to find her son, Uche, bru­tal­ly mur­dered and her daugh­ter, Nas­sun, miss­ing. Over­whelmed by grief, Essun enters a state of emo­tion­al shut­down, spend­ing two days in numb detach­ment beside Uche’s body, bare­ly attend­ing to basic needs like eat­ing or drink­ing. The towns­folk remain unaware of her tur­moil until Ler­na, a local doc­tor, inter­venes.

Ler­na dis­cov­ers Essun in her cata­ton­ic state and gen­tly guides her to his home, offer­ing care and a safe space to rest. Essun’s trau­ma man­i­fests in frag­ment­ed thoughts and avoid­ance of real­i­ty, such as refus­ing to acknowl­edge Uche’s death by cor­rect­ing her tense when refer­ring to him. Lerna’s patience and qui­et sup­port pro­vide a tem­po­rary anchor, though Essun’s grief resur­faces in a vio­lent night­mare where she relives Uche’s mur­der at Jija’s hands. The dream’s irrationality—Jija kick­ing instead of punching—highlights her frac­tured psy­che. Ler­na admin­is­ters a seda­tive to calm her, but the emo­tion­al wounds remain raw.

As Essun grad­u­al­ly regains aware­ness, Ler­na informs her of a cat­a­stroph­ic seis­mic event to the north, which has sent refugees flood­ing toward Tir­i­mo. The sul­furous air and dis­tant dev­as­ta­tion hint at an unprece­dent­ed dis­as­ter, one Essun instinc­tive­ly under­stands is linked to her oro­genic abil­i­ties. Her latent pow­er briefly sur­faces when she recalls divert­ing the seis­mic force to pro­tect Uche’s body, though the mem­o­ry is frag­ment­ed. The chap­ter under­scores the dual­i­ty of her iden­ti­ty: a griev­ing moth­er and a pow­er­ful oro­gene, both roles col­lid­ing in the wake of per­son­al and glob­al cat­a­stro­phe.

The chapter’s tone is haunt­ing and intro­spec­tive, immers­ing the read­er in Essun’s dis­so­cia­tive grief while fore­shad­ow­ing larg­er soci­etal col­lapse. Her strug­gle to rec­on­cile her past, her abil­i­ties, and her loss mir­rors the broad­er upheaval of the world. Lerna’s com­pas­sion offers a fleet­ing respite, but the unre­solved mys­tery of Nassun’s dis­ap­pear­ance and Jija’s betray­al looms, set­ting the stage for Essun’s jour­ney ahead. The narrative’s sec­ond-per­son per­spec­tive inten­si­fies the inti­ma­cy of her suf­fer­ing, blur­ring the line between pro­tag­o­nist and read­er.

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