The cradle doesn’t have a history. It has a scream, stretched out through time.
An ornately-decorated, compact institution on an island connected with Stilthe by a bridge to the South Quarter, abandoned for fifty years. It has been, at various times in its’ lifespan, an orphanage, an asylum – and for the year before the fire, both at once.
It kept both the truly insane and those black sheep of noble families who would be sent away rather than dealt with. Those who were genuinely dangerous would be kept in the halls and rooms in the back of the building, beyond the administrators’ tower.
More can be learned from a procedure carried out incorrectly, so we’ll keep training to a minimum.
-Dr. Hanscombe, head of surgery, in a memo from the year of the fire.
The building has so much pain and suffering in it that it seems to have taken on a life of its’ own. It doesn’t want people to leave.