Kaelith didn't remember the drive back.
Not the winding roads.
Not the creaking trees clawing at the sky.
Not the moment the house disappeared in her rearview mirror, as if it had never existed.
But she remembered the weight.
Something in her had changed.
Not like turning a page.
Like tearing one out.
She walked through the halls of Saint Nerezza in silence, the flickering fluorescent lights too loud. Her coat felt heavier than before. The relic pressed against her ribs like a second heartbeat.
No one stopped her. No one spoke.
They didn't need to.
The shift in her presence was visible.
Like her shadow had grown longer.
She passed Dr. Lynelle in the east corridor.
The older woman froze mid-step.
"Kaelith? Are you alright? You look... different."
Kaelith turned her head slowly.
Smiled.
"I'm remembering."
She didn't wait for a response.
Cell 77 waited.
The guards weren't at their posts.
Doors that should've been locked were ajar.
The corridor pulsed with that familiar cold.
She stepped into it like stepping into her own grave.
And there he was.
Saevus.
Seated.
Still.
Watching her.
His expression changed the moment he saw her.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
"You went back," he said softly.
She didn't answer.
Didn't need to.
The room knew.
He stood slowly, shackles clinking against the metal table.
"What did you see?"
She stepped forward, her voice hollow. "The circle. The mirror. The name."
His eyes burned. "And do you remember what you were before they broke you?"
She met his gaze.
"I wasn't broken. I was buried."
Saevus's smile was slow.
"Then rise."
Kaelith felt it then. A ripple under her skin. Like someone else was breathing just behind her ribs.
Not possession.
Awakening.
The part of her that had once knelt in fire.
The part that had whispered truths older than blood.
Her reflection in the glass of the observation window didn't match her posture.
Her mouth was still.
But in the glass, her reflection moved.
Smiling.
A flicker.
Gone.
She closed the distance between them.
"Tell me what I was."
"You were the voice before the storm. The silence before the blade. The one who listened when gods dared not speak."
"Ashema," she whispered.
"Yes," Saevus said. "But they called you something else in the beginning."
She tilted her head. "What?"
He stepped closer, so close his breath ghosted her skin.
"The Halo."
She inhaled sharply.
The room tilted.
Kaelith's hand clenched around the relic.
It pulsed—hot, alive.
And somewhere deep in the recess of her mind, a door cracked open.
Fire.
Hands raised.
Her voice chanting.
Not madness.
Memory.
Saevus touched his shackled fingers to his heart.
"You were never mine to keep. You were the one I served."
Kaelith stepped back.
Shaken.
Changed.
The walls of Saint Nerezza felt thinner than before.
Like they no longer held him.
Like they were beginning to let her out.
She turned to leave.
But before she reached the door, Saevus whispered:
"She's almost fully awake now. You should warn them."
Kaelith froze.
"Warn who?"
His smile didn't fade.
"Anyone who still believes you're just a doctor."
She walked away.
But this time, the sound of her heels wasn't the only echo.
It was hers.
And Ashema's.