The west wing of Saint Nerezza Asylum always felt colder. Not because of the faulty heating—but because the air knew what lived behind these walls. Silence lived here. And something else, too. Something waiting.
Kaelith Nyraen's heels echoed sharply through the corridor, the rhythm precise and deliberate. The walls, tiled in bone-colored ceramic, reflected back her shape like broken glass. Her coat flared behind her as she walked, heavy wool slicing the air like a slow-moving blade.
She passed familiar doors. Steel-reinforced. Slitted windows. Numbers etched into the paint like names no one cared to remember.
Then she stopped in front of the last one.
Cell 77.
Her hand hovered by her side. Not reaching. Not hesitating. Just… pausing. As if the door could sense her presence.
A guard stood to her left, young and trying too hard to look unfazed. His badge read: Mills.
"You ready, Doctor Nyraen?" he asked, voice a touch too casual to be convincing.
Kaelith didn't answer at first. Her gaze flicked once to the steel door. Then she nodded, crisp and silent.
Mills hesitated before hitting the release. "You know this guy's not like the others, right?"
She didn't look at him. "That's why I'm here."
The magnetic lock gave a loud, mechanical click. The steel groaned. And the door opened.
Kaelith stepped inside.
No hesitation.
No fear.
Just the usual breath of control that she wore like second skin.
The room was bare. Windowless. The overhead light buzzed with age. One bolted-down table. One chair.
And one man.
He sat motionless—arms resting lightly on the table, shoulders relaxed. The kind of stillness that wasn't tired, but intentional. Calculated. Like the body was resting so the mind could sharpen its teeth.
Saevus Caelum.
Patient 77.
He didn't look up when she entered. But she felt it. The heat of his attention, even with his gaze downcast.
Kaelith moved to the chair opposite him. Sat without a word. Set her file on the table. Aligned her pen neatly beside it.
Only then did he look up.
And their eyes met.
His were darker than she expected. Not just in color—but in depth. Like staring into something ancient. Something still burning under a skin made for quiet.
"Dr. Nyraen," he said, voice low and strangely gentle.
She didn't let the moment linger.
"Patient 77," she returned.
A faint smile ghosted across his mouth. Not mockery. Not warmth. Something in between.
"That's not my name."
"It's the only one on record."
"Records lie."
She let the comment pass. Opened the file. Pretended to read something she'd already memorized.
Alias: Saevus Caelum.
Age: Approx. 32.
Former Occupation: Leader of the Mouth of Divinity.
Voluntarily admitted.
Diagnosis: Pending.
That last part bothered her. "Pending." What a weak word for something so dangerous.
"You don't fear me," he said suddenly.
Her eyes didn't move from the page. "I don't fear what I understand."
"Is that what you think you do?"
She met his gaze again. "That's what I'm here to find out."
Saevus tilted his head. "The others came in pairs. Two guards. Another doctor. Sometimes three. But you… always alone."
"It's protocol."
"It's confidence."
"It's control."
He smiled again. A little wider this time.
"You're late today."
Kaelith raised a brow. "You've been tracking time?"
"I don't have much else to track."
She didn't flinch. "Traffic."
"Liar."
The word hit the air with no heat. Just quiet satisfaction.
Kaelith leaned back, folding one leg over the other. "Do you think you're here to outsmart me?"
"I think," he said slowly, "you came here to remember me."
The room stilled.
She blinked once. "I've never met you before."
He leaned forward, elbows on the table now. "That's what they told you."
Kaelith's throat tightened for just a second. She reached for her pen.
"Let's begin with something simple," she said, masking the shift. "Why did you go silent during intake? You refused to speak to anyone else."
"I didn't like their questions."
"And you like mine?"
"I like your voice."
She exhaled slowly. "So it's personal."
"No," he murmured. "It's familiar."
He didn't blink as he said it.
Kaelith stared at him. "What are you trying to say?"
"I surrendered," Saevus said, voice soft and even, "because I knew you would come."
That stopped her.
Her hand paused halfway across the page.
He kept going. "You don't remember it yet, but we've met. A long time ago. When your name wasn't Kaelith. When you had different eyes. When you still believed in gods."
Her skin prickled, but she forced her body to remain still.
"That's enough," she said sharply.
But he only tilted his head again, like a lion listening for thunder.
"You'll remember. Soon."
Kaelith stood abruptly. Her chair scraped against the floor.
Saevus didn't flinch.
"Same time tomorrow?" he asked, smiling again—but this time it was all teeth.
She turned toward the door, knocked twice for the guard.
The lock disengaged.
But before she left, his voice followed her out.
"Don't forget what they buried in you, Doctor. Because I never did."
The door shut behind her with a metallic finality.
Kaelith walked back down the hall, slower than before. Her chest ached with something she couldn't name. Her palms were sweating. She never sweated.
But worst of all…
She believed him.