Prologue: An oncoming storm

A deathly chill blew through the halls accompanied by the sounds of wailing, screaming...

Laughing.

He ran this place as a snake oil salesman would run a side-of-the-road menagerie. Renowned scientists of their respective fields would travel thousands of miles to view the humans in this place. It housed a collection of bizarre physical ailments, mental maladies, and all the cold detachment that came with them. He wasn't cruel to these people, but their welfare was hardly worth his time. Not when there was so much studying to be done. 

Not when the progression of these phenomena was more interesting than the cure. 

And Lord knew he loved to study. When not amusing himself or other doctors with these medical mysteries, he would spend hours watching, cataloging, and occasionally asking questions to determine if the person he spoke to could still understand him. These were enjoyable mysteries, and while his treatment of these individuals was often criticized, the information he collected wasn’t. This man’s discoveries could fill hundreds of academic textbooks but for now, it remained in his journals and close to his heart. He hoped to one day publish his findings. 

He sought to push the limits of scientific discovery into the new age. Simple-minded people in less educated times would guess at answers, and he had little respect for that past. Afflictions of the mind were still a relatively new field of study, as previous generations assumed the sick were possessed. An untapped wilderness of potential medical maladies. Unlike his predecessors who were quick to dismiss afflicted people.

"Possession..." The tip of his handlebar mustache twitched just a bit before he scoffed enough that the nurse behind him noticed. 

"Doctor?"

He rolled his eyes, letting his shoulder drop and the weight of his body rest on his cane. 

"I was recollecting a time in my life when I was as superstitious and plain as most of the people in here." He cocked an eyebrow, leaning further on his cane, squinting as if that would help to hear her better. "Are you the God-fearing type, madam?"

"As any other of God's creation, I reckon." She cleared her throat, a large set of keys dangling loudly in her crossed arms. She was constantly shifting from one foot to the other, trying to indicate clearly that she was anxious to leave.  "I know you don't like it when we acknowledge our faith in the face of your science an' all but..."

The hairs on her arm stood up as another dank breeze wafted through the halls. She turned her head to glance at the various doors, the sounds of muffled whimpering or giggling behind each of them nearly freezing her in place. She raised her shoulders, feeling the cold blowing clear through her body, the dank seeping into her bones.  

"THIS hallway, doctor...THESE people..."? The nurse used her chin to point toward the other end of the hall, her voice barely louder than a whisper as if she didn’t want any of them to hear. "They all havin' the same dreams–the same illusions are plaguin' em'. None of it makes any sense, even with your science. Even a so-called simpleton like me can see it don’t make sense. I mean, LOOK at him!"

Her plain finger pointed down at a desiccated, scrawny excuse for a man. His body hunched over his knees, and he huddled in terror day in and day out, refusing to eat, refusing to sleep. His stance was that of a terrified animal, curled up in the corner of a cage, knowing that doom was but a whip away. He was torturing himself to death and what’s worse? He wasn't alone. The nurse dropped her shoulders, disheartened about people she knew: friends, neighbors, family. One by one, they were dying and there was no journal, no book, no scripture that could explain the madness she was witnessing.

She sniffled, wiping her now-puffy face. This was personal for her, and the doctor knew it. 

"Forgive me, doctor. Faith is kinda all I got right now."

The doctor rolled his eyes and tapped his cane forcefully onto the bile and blood-stained floor. "Comport yourself, madam. Lex parsimoniae: The simplest explanation is usually the correct one."

The flustered woman sighed. Why would he waste her time only to dismiss her as if she wasn’t worried about the people she knew? Why had he bothered asking the question? 

"If you're finished gawking?" The doctor said, raising his hand for her to get to work.

Now there was the cute little face she made when she was furious, the doctor thought. He chuckled to himself before a forceful slap on his wrist nearly caused his heart to jump out of his throat. He unsuccessfully tried to pull, but found himself facing the man who had launched himself out of the corner of his tiny cell. The man, though wasting away into almost nothing, towered over the doctor with snarling teeth and bloodshot eyes in what could only be a warning display. 

"It's close...'' His breath was strong enough for the hot vomit smell to pass the doctor’s ears and wrench into the doctor's throat. He tried desperately to pull away, but the man’s grip tightened. Mayhaps a little too strong? The doctor could do nothing but listen to him barely whisper the same phrase over and over until...

"It’s coming…! IT’S COMING!!” The desperate cries rang through the entire building, not just from the patients in the hallway, but also from upstairs. How did they even hear this man? The nurse clenched her hands tightly in front of her chest, pressing her body against the wall as if trying to go through it. The sound of the people screaming lingered inside her head. She closed her eyes tight, slapping her hands over her ears to try to drown out the noise. 

The doctor broke free of the man's grasp, and used his cane to push the man back into his cell, his face distorted with disgust as he stumbled backward into the nurse. He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her toward the stairs to calm the ruckus in the building, nearly knocking over the Black woman quietly sweeping the floors next to them.

She maintained her composure until the pair were well out of sight, still diligently sweeping, listening to the chaos that echoed around her. After a few minutes, she stopped and stared at the wall in front of her, her eyes focusing on the details of the stone.  When she thought it was safe, she dropped the broom to the floor with a --CLACK--. With a graceful turn, she kicked the broom hard against the wall. Her steps were heavy with authority, the echo drowned out the noise from the others screaming upstairs. 

The man in the cell tried to cling to the door, his attention on the emptiness in front of it. It felt like a fog dissipated, and a goddess emerged. She was a woman of confidence and stature. The man was stunned, silent-- it was strange enough his mind briefly cleared. This woman, this goddess; she should have been in a grand temple or place of worship , not posing as slave labor. 

Was she here to help?

"C–Can you help us?!" One woman reached out from her cell window, desperate for kindness, tears falling down her face. The goddess reminded them of an Egyptian statue made flesh, and her grace and beauty clashed with the worn-out clothes she was wearing. Would she find them disgusting? Could she see past the filth of these withered bodies? Were they still human under all that decay?

She tilted her head, brow furrowed, and took a small step toward the woman, whose hand now bled from the grip she had on the metal. Several drops of blood fell into the goddess’s hand and she stared at them, rubbing them through her fingers. She took a deep breath and had another quick look around, frustration crossing her face. 

“I don’t know what ails you. It’s something I’ve been (investigating) for a long while and I’m still searching for answers,” the woman said. The despair hit the prisoners with the force of a meteor. The sickly woman let her arm drop and dangle from the window before sliding back into her cell and down the length of her door, sobbing uncontrollably. The goddess peered inside the tiny cell and noticed the woman’s agony. “As a matter of fact, this is the first time I’ve seen a group of people afflicted with the same madness. That nurse said you all are having the same dreams and visions." She paused, her fingers steepled and she held both forefingers to her chin, "When does it feel and its worst?”

The woman in the cell traced the grains of the wood with her finger, “When I try to sleep.” She suddenly scrambled up to talk through the bars, “I see things I can’t explain, things that are monstrous and terrifying, but sometimes beautiful and inspiring.” She pointed towards the door with the first man, “He was a painter and tried to put to canvas what he saw, but he was also the first of us to go mad.”

Surprised, the goddess’ eyebrows shot up. “Do you know where I can find his work?”

“The mayor had it all burned-- called it blasphemy and witchcraft,” the woman replied.

“The townspeople think we’re possessed,” A man in another cell said. “The doctor here thinks there’s something wrong with our brains or we were drugged.”

“But I’m going to assume you don’t feel as if someone or something has taken control of your actions or words?” the goddess asked.

“No. Nothing like that.”

“So you become terrified when you try to close your eyes to sleep,” the goddess deduced.

“Yes, but–” the woman gripped the bars, knuckles turning lily-white, “even while awake it feels like I’m being chased and there’s nowhere to run or hide.”

The goddess took a step away from the cell door and glared down each end of the hall. A chorus of sobs cut through to her spirit, drumming up sympathy. She did her best to drown out some of the noise, relying on instincts to find any sensation of something out of place. There was nothing except these people and the occasional errant spirit making noise. The top of the goddess’s naturally red-brown lips curled in angry disgust. Something was wrong, but what was the source of this unease? She couldn’t say.

“I’d rather be dead…” she heard one prisoner remark. She cocked an alarmed eyebrow. This madness she was investigating was devastating, and she was hoping to find the cause so they’d be rid of it. She wasn’t ready to give up, but the prisoners in this place were well past that point.

With a deep breath, she brought her arms to her chest and held out her hands, an ethereal breeze building around her body as power concentrated, before gently blowing through the hall. When she was satisfied she could summon enough of the element, she removed a small vial from the satchel on her belt. She uncorked it and held a hand to her nose, raising the bottle above her head.

The smell was sweet and pleasant. Like bottled sea spray through beautiful trees on a clear windy day. A respite from the damp, underground wet and smell of human filth that soaked into the walls.

“Sleep. Hopefully it’ll help to keep you alive longer. At least long enough for me to find a cause," She said low and gently. Bodies hit the ground beyond the doors. When she was certain her spell had taken effect, she turned to leave, glancing into the first man’s cell. While she replaced the cork on her vial, she noticed his face. It was distorted as if he was fighting to wake back up, his whole body quivering. He seemed locked in a nightmare; it’s not even close to what she was intending. 

Before leaving for good, she glanced inside the other cells, noting that all of these people were the same: squirming from some unseen terror. She then noticed the walls were scrubbed clean. She caught a glimpse of what may have been charcoal or dried blood. She thought the patient was trying to draw stuff, but they either ran out of room, or the doctor didn't like what he was seeing.

With a studious sigh, the goddess wandered upstairs to inspect the chaos. It was panic, everyone running in different directions to wrangle the few patients who suddenly started screaming. While observing both the doctor and the nurses, she noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Not even reliable ghosts. She was abruptly grabbed by the shoulders and vigorously shaken by a nurse.

“The hell you doin’ up here?! Y’all’re supposed t’ be down in the laundry or the damn field!” The flushed woman underneath her made demands, but she didn't bother to look. Her attention was fixed on her surroundings, the nurses words fading into muffled anger when a sudden *SLAP* brought her staring down at the face of the angry white nurse who was death-gripping her shoulder.

“Laini?” The sound of a kind but commanding male voice coming from a nearby door caught their attention. ”What in the world is happening here? I know it’s an asylum but…sounds like a fight’s broken out.”

A man who stood as tall as a tree covered his head as he ducked under the threshold of the door. His dark-blue gaze pierced every human standing in the room as he looked at the people running around with no purpose. He distorted his face, tossing his dark brown hair to clear it of any potential bugs or other nonsense that might be crawling around. 

“Filthy…” he muttered, dusting off his shoulders then motioned for Laini to follow him out of the building. “Well? Can we go now?”

Laini chuckled under her breath, grabbing the nurse’s arm and twisting it hard to remove her hand from her shoulder, nearly breaking her wrist. The nurse recoiled, holding her arm in pain, and watched the pair turn for the door. The doctor noticed the strangers and pushed himself past his patients and staff.

“Who the hell are you people and what are you doing in my asylum?” The doctor demanded, dropping a patient onto his young nurses, who barely held on as she tried not to fall over. The pair looked back over their shoulders, unimpressed. 

"I'll let you handle this," Laini said and walked out. Her companion put his hands on his hips and scowled.

"My companion and I have heard distressing rumors about a madness afflicting people in the area. It sounded eerily similar to a situation we've dealt with before."

"Oh? And did you find a cause?" The doctor asked, dropping all pretense of assisting his aids. He stood up straight, ready to receive information but the mysterious man shook his head.

"Not yet," he replied and left. The doctor was as disappointed as he was flabbergasted. 

Outside, Laini took a cleansing breath, stretched her arms out, then let them fall to her side before bringing a hand up to her forehead to think. She glanced back at her companion. He had a deep frown on his face and waited impatiently for her to say anything. 

“Mihr…?” she asked.

“Did you find anything?” he asked, cutting her off. Laini’s expression dropped.

“No,” she said, then stopped, a growing unease still lingering around her. “They kept saying ‘it’s coming’ and then a woman on the other side of the building started screaming the same thing. From what I overheard, these people started acting like they were threatened by something…but I saw nothing.” She groaned behind her palm, “I was able to talk to a few of the prisoners about how they were feeling. One man had created paintings of what he was seeing but they were destroyed.”

“And you feel nothing?” Mihr asked.

Laini had to think for a moment. Was she feeling something? Was she failing to listen to her instincts? Before they left the grounds for good she spun on her heels and glared at the building, taking several steps back so she could take in as many details as she could. There had to be something. Her breath slowed and the sounds became muffled again. 

If there were demons, Mihr would have said something. Ghosts, and she would have felt it–and she did, but none powerful enough to cause this sort of havoc. Vampires? But who would have the gall to terrorize mortals in such a way? And why would they want to? Even the Roman child wasn’t that bored. Yet.

Laini’s mind raced from one idea to the next, but came up short. Worse yet: nothing connected those afflicted. At least, nothing she could see. 

“Maybe it’s coming from the Dreamlands,” Laini muttered under her breath. "And it's getting worse..."

Mihr crossed his arms and also looked around at the building. There was a foulness to the place, but he figured it was the nature of an asylum.  Something was causing these people to fall into madness as if dominoes were falling one by one and there didn't appear to be a usual explanation for it. He huffed. What he wouldn't give for a demon or ghost right now. Something easy. After standing there for an agonizing few minutes, he had enough.

"Are you ready to leave yet?" He asked and reached for Laini’s shoulder. When he noticed her eyes, he leaned over to get a better look. "Laini?" She wasn't looking but rather staring. Slowly, the hairs on Laini’s arms stood straight up, her eyes becoming more focused with each passing second. It was like the air was being stolen from the area and caught everyone’s attention. He watched her stop breathing and brace for something, her hands clenching the fabric of her skirt.

When was the last time Mihr saw this woman truly afraid? He put a hand on her back just as he noticed an unearthly silence fall around the asylum. It felt like time itself stopped: no birds, no breeze, no insects–nothing. Every human around him froze, their expressions filling with dread the likes of which he had never seen. Even Laini, his charge. His heart wrenched in his stomach. Mihr had only ever seen Laini this terrified once before, long ago when she first began her life at his side. An expression he thought he’d never see again. Never have to again, he’d hoped. But here she stood, body stiff, face locked in fright from a force he couldn’t perceive.

Since he was the only one who could still move around, he tried to study what he was seeing, letting it sear into his mind so he wouldn’t forget any details. Him being able to move around was also a clue. 

This wasn’t the first time they had found people falling into madness for seemingly no reason but Laini never fell into this sort of trance. She was far too strong, far too learned, and far too old to be caught off guard. This must have been something new. Mihr gulped nervously and watched as Laini slowly tilted her head up as if there was a sound or sight only she could perceive.

As soon as she had her chin up, she took a massive breath as if she had been underwater and clenched her hands over her chest, trying to rub the terror out of her body. She and Mihr both saw the others still in a daze around them but it didn’t take long for all of them to finally shake themselves out of whatever was holding their attention. Laini had to take a minute to catch her breath as she grabbed Mihr by the arm and squeezed as hard as she could, the warmth of his skin bringing her back to normal.

“What was that?” Mihr asked, trying to rub life back into Laini’s limbs. She looked around at the other people, taking note of their reactions. Most shook their heads and tried to go about their business as usual but others weren’t so quick to recover. Some looked around for answers and some had to sit down where they could clutch their heads as if they were in pain.  

“We have work to do,” Laini remarked, shaking her head, tears filling her eyes. She blinked to prevent them from falling, took in another breath, and said, “And we’re going to need help.”