She didn't sleep that night.
Even after the reports were filed, the case notes updated, the institutional forms signed in triplicate and tucked into metal drawers—Kaelith Nyraen lay awake in her apartment, staring at the ceiling as the clock passed 3:00 a.m.
Not because she was afraid.
She didn't believe in fear—not in the childish kind that came with flickering shadows or imaginary things hiding under beds.
This wasn't fear.
It was memory trying to crawl out of her bones.
The way he had said her name. The way he watched her, not with obsession—but recognition.
And worse than that?
She couldn't stop thinking about him.
Even now, she saw his hands—calm and still. The way he leaned forward, like he was trying to get closer to something inside her that even she hadn't touched in years.
She sat up. Her sheets tangled around her legs.
No.
She wouldn't allow this.
She was a psychiatrist. A specialist. The head of forensic psychology at one of the most fortified asylums in the country. Her mind belonged to her.
And yet—
When she walked into the west wing the next morning, something in her chest twisted like a slow-turning key.
She hadn't told anyone about what he said.
She wasn't sure she could.
Dr. Lynelle stopped her in the corridor.
"Kaelith," the older woman said, adjusting her glasses. "You're seeing Patient 77 again today?"
"Yes," Kaelith said flatly, already walking past.
Lynelle jogged a few steps to keep up. "I read your notes from yesterday. You think he's showing signs of delusional attachment?"
Kaelith paused outside the corridor leading to the isolation cells. "I think he's showing signs of calculated manipulation."
Lynelle hesitated. "That's not in your report."
"I'm updating it."
A lie. She wasn't sure what she thought. Saevus Caelum didn't fit any of the categories they liked to use. He wasn't psychotic. Not schizophrenic. Not even violent.
But he was something.
And she didn't like the way her gut reacted when she was around him—like her body knew a language her mind refused to speak.
The guard on duty—same kid as yesterday, Mills—nodded when he saw her.
"He hasn't moved much," he said. "Didn't sleep all night. Just sat there."
Kaelith kept her voice even. "Did he say anything?"
Mills shook his head. "But he smiled. When I told him you were coming."
Of course he did.
The door buzzed. The lock disengaged.
She stepped in.
This time, he was already looking at her.
No pretending to ignore. No waiting to speak.
Just watching her walk in, like she was the one being studied.
"Good morning, Doctor," he said.
She sat down across from him. "You didn't sleep."
"I was waiting."
"For what?"
"You."
She ignored the shiver that climbed her spine. "That's not healthy."
"Neither are cages," he said, motioning loosely at the room around them.
Kaelith folded her arms. "You chose this. You walked in and surrendered. You asked to be brought here."
"True," he said. "But you haven't asked why."
She opened her folder again, even though she didn't need to. "You claimed the Mouth of Divinity disbanded voluntarily. That you were done leading."
"I never led them," he said softly.
She glanced at him.
"They followed," he added, tone like silk laid over thorns.
"And yet you were their prophet. Their voice."
"I was the mirror," he said. "They saw what they wanted."
Kaelith leaned forward. "And what about me, Saevus? What am I supposed to see?"
He tilted his head.
"No one calls me that anymore," he said. "Not even the guards."
She waited.
His eyes gleamed in the artificial light. "But it sounds different coming from you."
She didn't blink. "You believe you know me."
"I don't believe," he said. "I remember."
"From another life?"
His smile didn't fade. "From a truer one."
Kaelith's pen hovered over the page. "Are you suggesting past-life delusions?"
"I'm suggesting you're not who you think you are."
That hit differently.
Not like a threat.
Like a door creaking open inside her mind.
She snapped the file closed. "Enough riddles. You brought yourself here. So talk. Tell me what you want."
Saevus didn't move.
Then slowly—deliberately—he leaned in, elbows on the table again.
"I want to watch you remember."
The air between them thickened.
Kaelith stood abruptly, knocking the chair back a little.
"I'll see you tomorrow."
"Will you dream of me again tonight?" he asked softly.
She froze.
Her mouth went dry.
"How did you know—"
But she stopped herself.
He was already smiling.
Like he'd been inside her head this whole time.
And for a terrifying second, she wondered if maybe… he had.