Margot's past
The room was like nothing they had ever seen. The air felt heavy, humming with energy that vibrated deep in their bones. The moment the trio entered, the door slammed shut behind them, locking with an audible click. Red lights blinked faintly along the edges of the ceiling, casting a shadowy glow over the strange machinery scattered throughout the room.
At the center, a large, swirling portal flickered erratically. It wasn't made of light but of memories—fragmented images that rippled like water, showing glimpses of faces, moments, and places. Whispers echoed in the air, soft but haunting, each one laced with the weight of forgotten truths.
Margot was the first to notice the sigils etched into the walls, glowing faintly with a crimson hue. Her breath caught in her throat. "This isn't just a room," she murmured, her voice trembling. "It's a memory vault."
Lara stepped closer to the portal, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and awe. "What does it mean?" she asked.
Elias's expression darkened as he scanned the room. "It means the hospital was designed to collect and store memories," he said. "But why? And for what purpose?
Before anyone could stop her, Margot took a step toward the portal. The swirling memories seemed to pull her in, their fragmented whispers growing louder.
"Margot, wait!" Lara called, but it was too late.
The portal surged with light as Margot stepped through, her body vanishing into the rippling surface.
The moment Margot stepped into the swirling portal, the world around her dissolved into darkness. A strange sensation overtook her—a pull, not just on her body, but on her mind and soul. Whispers brushed past her ears, fragmented and faint, like distant echoes of a life she had long forgotten.
She blinked, and the void gave way to light.
Margot found herself standing in a hospital room. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a golden glow over the scene. A woman lay on the hospital bed, cradling a newborn baby in her arms. Her face was radiant, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks.
It took Margot a moment to recognize the woman—it was her mother, Elene. She looked younger, softer, and full of life. Beside her stood a man with broad shoulders and kind eyes. He bent down, kissing the woman's forehead before gently stroking the baby's tiny hand.
"She's perfect, Elene," he said, his voice filled with awe. "Our little Margot."
Margot's heart clenched at the sight. She had never seen her parents like this—happy, loving, and full of hope.
The scene shifted, dissolving into another moment.
Margot now stood in a cozy living room. She was a toddler, sitting on the carpet with toys scattered around her. Her father was crouched beside her, building a tower out of wooden blocks. Her mother sat on the couch, watching them with a warm smile.
"Careful, Margot," her father said with a laugh. "You don't want to knock it over."
Little Margot giggled, clapping her hands as the tower grew taller. Her father leaned in, his face full of love. "One day, you're going to build something amazing, sweetheart."
Her mother joined them on the floor, pulling Margot into her lap. "Our little miracle," she murmured, kissing the top of her head.
But the warmth didn't last.
The scene shifted again, the colors growing darker, the air heavier. Margot was older now, perhaps seven or eight. She stood in the doorway of her parents' bedroom, watching as her mother paced back and forth, her face pale and drawn.
"Elene, you need to rest," her father said, his voice tinged with concern.
"I can't rest," Elene snapped, her tone sharp. "There's too much at stake."
Margot watched as her father sighed, running a hand through his hair. "What happened to us, Elene? We were happy. We had everything we ever wanted."
Elene stopped pacing, her eyes narrowing. "You don't understand," she said coldly. "The hospital needs me. The City needs me. I'm the only one who can fix this."
Her father took a step closer, his voice softening. "And what about Margot? What about your family?"
Elene's face hardened. "This is for Margot," she said. "Everything I'm doing is for her."
Margot felt the pull again, dragging her into another memory. She was older now, perhaps twelve. She sat on the floor of a dark room, her arms wrapped around her knees. Her mother stood over her, her face cold and impassive.
"Why don't you believe me?" young Margot cried. "I'm not crazy!"
Elene knelt down, gripping her shoulders tightly. "You're sick, Margot," she said, her voice devoid of emotion. "You need help. And I'm the only one who can give it to you."
Margot shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "I'm not sick! Please, Mom, I just want to go home!"
Elene's expression didn't change. "This is your home now," she said firmly. "And one day, you'll thank me for everything I've done."
The room around Margot shifted again, and she found herself in the hospital's lab. Her mother stood at a table, holding a syringe filled with a strange, glowing liquid.
On the table lay a man, his body strapped down with leather restraints. He struggled weakly, his eyes wide with fear.
"Please," he begged. "I have a family. I don't want to die."
Elene didn't respond. She injected the liquid into his arm, watching dispassionately as his body convulsed.
Margot's stomach turned as she watched her mother scribble notes on a clipboard, her face devoid of any empathy.
The memory shifted again, and Margot found herself in a dark, cavernous room. Her mother knelt before a group of shadowy figures, their forms barely visible in the dim light.
"We can give you what you seek," one of them said, its voice low and guttural. "But the price will be steep."
Elene didn't hesitate. "What do you want?"
"Your heart," the figure replied. "And your loyalty."
Elene's face was calm as she nodded. "Done."
Margot felt a wave of nausea as she watched one of the figures reach out, plunging its hand into her mother's chest. Blood spilled onto the floor, but Elene didn't scream. When the figure withdrew its hand, Elene's heart was gone, yet she stood as if nothing had happened.
"You are now bound to us," the figure said. "The Anchor will guide you. The Architect will serve you. And the Heart will protect you."
The room shifted once more, and Margot found herself back in the lab. Her mother stood over her, a syringe in her hand.
"You were never meant to be normal, Margot," Elene said, her voice cold. "You were created for a purpose."
Margot struggled against the restraints, her heart pounding. "What are you talking about?" she demanded.
"You are the key," Elene said. "The City's power runs through you. And when the time comes, you will fulfill your destiny."
Margot's screams echoed through the lab as the syringe plunged into her arm.
The memories swirled around Margot, each one more painful than the last. She saw her father's lifeless body on the floor, her mother standing over him with blood-stained hands. She saw the faces of countless patients, their lives stolen in the name of Elene's experiments.
She felt the weight of it all—the lies, the betrayals, the horrors her mother had committed.
When Margot stumbled out of the portal, she fell to her knees, her body trembling. Tears streamed down her face as she clutched her chest, the weight of the memories threatening to crush her.
Lara rushed to her side, her voice filled with concern. "Margot, are you okay? What did you see?"
Margot couldn't speak. The truth was too much to bear.
But one thing was clear: the hospital wasn't just a place of horror—it was her prison, her legacy, and her curse.