The woman remained silent for a moment after the door closed, her gaze lingering on the boy as he sat pressed into the corner of the bed. He hadn't moved, his body still tense, his eyes fixed on her as though she might lunge at him at any moment.
Without saying anything, she turned and walked further into the room. The chair Thale had brought in sat slightly off to the side, its legs scraping softly against the stone as she pulled it into place. With slow, deliberate movements, she sat down and adjusted her posture, folding her hands neatly in her lap.
Only then did she look at him again.
Not casually.
Not dismissively.
She studied him.
Her bright green eyes moved over him carefully, taking in every detail—the way he held himself, the tension in his shoulders, the uneven rhythm of his breathing. There was no rush in her gaze, no wasted motion. It was the kind of attention that felt invasive, as though she were trying to see through him rather than simply look at him.
The boy shrank slightly under it, instinctively pressing himself further into the corner.
"My name is Tessa…" looking at the boy intently she broke the silence. "What's your name?"
As her eyes moved across him, something small caught her attention.
A faint embroidery on his shirt.
Her gaze settled there, narrowing slightly as she leaned forward just enough to see it more clearly. Then, lifting her head, she spoke.
"Is that you name?"
Her hand rose, pointing directly at his chest.
The boy followed her finger hesitantly, his eyes dropping to where she indicated. For the first time, he truly noticed it himself.
"It's a truly beautiful style of writing. What does it say?"
There, stitched into the fabric of his shirt, was a single word.
Laylin.
He could read it clearly.
Without thinking, he spoke it aloud. "Laylin."
The woman's eyes flicked back to the lettering, then to his face.
"So your name is Laylin?"
He hesitated briefly, then slowly shook his head.
"I… don't know."
Her expression tightened slightly, a faint crease forming between her brows before quickly disappearing.
"What language is that?" she asked, her tone more focused now. "I've read many texts, from many regions. I've never seen those characters before."
The boy looked down again, staring at the word.
"I don't know," he admitted quietly. "But… I'm pretty sure it's the only language I know."
The woman's frown deepened, her eyes lingering on the embroidery for another moment before she leaned back slightly in her chair.
"Where are you from?" she asked.
The boy didn't answer right away.
His hands tightened slightly against the edge of the bed as he struggled with the question.
"I don't know," he said finally, his voice low. "I… don't remember anything."
He swallowed, his throat dry.
Tessa started to speak, but held her self back waiting for the boy to continue.
"My first memory… is waking up in that place. That dark room."
As he spoke, his body turned slightly toward her, his fear no longer just defensive, but pleading. His eyes met hers, wide and unsteady.
"I don't know what happened those people," he said, his voice trembling with something deeper than panic.
The words came faster now, desperate to be understood.
"I just woke up there… and when I left, those things—they were already—"
He stopped, the memory catching in his chest.
"They were already dead," she finished for him.
The woman watched him in silence.
Then her gaze shifted briefly to the device in her hand. The surface of it flickered faintly as she observed whatever it displayed. After a moment, she frowned.
"I believe, you believe what you're saying is the truth" she said.
The boy's breath caught slightly at that.
But her next words followed just as quickly.
"That doesn't clear you."
His shoulders tensed again.
"There are methods," she continued calmly, "ways to alter or erase a person's memory. What you're saying may be true… but that doesn't mean it's the whole truth."
She stood.
The chair creaked softly as she rose, her posture straightening as she turned toward the door.
"Someone from the church will arrive in a few days," she said as she began to walk. "They will determine whether you're lying or not."
Her hand reached the door.
"And regardless of what you remember…" she added, her voice steady, " She will find the truth."
With that she opened the door and stepped out. It closed behind her with a soft, final sound.
For a moment, the room was silent.
Then—
The boy's voice broke through the stillness, sharp and desperate.
"I didn't do anything!"
He pushed himself forward slightly, as if trying to reach someone who was already gone.
"I didn't!"
The words came again.
And again.
Each repetition grew weaker than the last, his voice straining until it finally gave out, leaving nothing but ragged breaths in its place.
Silence returned.
Slowly, his body folded in on itself.
He pulled his knees in, curling into a tight ball in the corner of the bed, his arms wrapping around himself as though trying to hold something together that was already breaking apart.
"I didn't hurt them…" he whispered, his voice barely audible now.
Tears began to fall, quiet and uncontested, as he buried his face against his arms.
And in the empty room, with no one left to hear him—
He cried
—————-
Outside, the woman did not leave immediately.
She stood in the hallway a few dozen feet from the door, her back resting lightly against the stone wall. The boy's voice carried through it, muffled but unmistakable as he continued to sob.
Her eyes were not on the door.
They were fixed on the device in her hand.
It was a flat, circular disk, its surface smooth and faintly reflective. Etched into it were four distinct images arranged in a cross—one at each point.
At the top, an angel.
At the bottom, a devil.
To the right, a knight.
To the left, a thief.
At the center of the disk, a thin arrow spun.
Fast.
Far too fast.
It rotated in a constant blur, never slowing, never settling on any one symbol.
The woman's frown deepened as she watched it.
The boy's voice continued faintly behind her.
Her grip on the device tightened slightly.
The arrow did not stop.
Not once.
Her expression hardened.
Then, pushing herself off the wall, she turned and began to walk down the corridor.
"Just what exactly happened to you…?" she muttered quietly.