ARC ONE: THE PAST

  Beeping. Constant, rhythmic beeping.

  That was the first thing she became aware of. The sound punctuated the darkness, steady and unwavering. She tried to open her eyes, but they felt so heavy, as if weights had been pced on her eyelids. The struggle sted for what seemed like eternity until finally, a sliver of light pierced through.

  White. Everything was white.

  The ceiling above her was an endless expanse of clinical white tiles. The walls, what she could see of them from her limited view, matched the ceiling. Even the thin bnket covering her small body was pristine white.

  She blinked, trying to clear the fog from her mind. Where was she? Why was she here? More importantly—who was she?

  The question sent a jolt of panic through her body. She couldn't remember. She couldn't remember anything—not her name, not her home, not her family. It was as if her life before this moment had been completely erased, leaving behind a terrifying bnk space where memories should be.

  Her heart rate accelerated, and the beeping machine beside her bed increased its tempo to match. The change must have alerted someone because moments ter, the door to her room swung open.

  "You're awake!" A woman in scrubs rushed to her bedside, her face a mixture of relief and professional concern. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?"

  The girl opened her mouth to answer, but no sound came out. Her throat felt raw and unused. The nurse quickly poured a cup of water from a pitcher on the bedside table and helped her take small sips.

  "W-where am I?" she finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

  "You're at Sanctum Central Hospital. You were in an accident." The nurse's voice was gentle as she checked the monitors. "You've been unconscious for almost a week. We were getting worried about you."

  "An accident?" The girl tried to sit up but winced as pain shot through her body.

  "Easy now," the nurse said, adjusting the bed so she could sit more comfortably. "Yes, a car accident. You were found on Crescent Avenue. Do you remember anything about it?"

  The girl closed her eyes, trying desperately to recall something—anything—but there was nothing. Just an endless void where her past should be. Tears welled in her eyes as she shook her head.

  "I... I don't remember." Her voice trembled. "I don't remember anything."

  The nurse's expression softened with concern. "What's your name, sweetie?"

  The question sent another wave of panic through her. She didn't know. How could she not know her own name?

  "I don't know," she whispered, tears now streaming freely down her face. "I don't know my name. I don't know who I am. I don't remember anything!"

  "Shh, it's okay." The nurse pced a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I'm going to get the doctor. We'll figure this out together, alright? You're safe here."

  As the nurse hurried out, the girl stared at her small hands resting on the white bnket. They seemed unfamiliar, like they belonged to someone else. She flexed her fingers, watching them move according to her will, yet feeling strangely detached from them.

  The door opened again, and an older man in a white coat entered, followed by the nurse and a woman in a dark business suit.

  "Hello there," the doctor said with a kind smile. "I'm Dr. Reeves. I've been taking care of you since you were brought in. This is Nurse Chen, whom you've met, and Ms. Winters from Social Services."

  The girl just stared at them, not knowing what to say or how to respond.

  "Can you tell us anything about yourself?" Ms. Winters asked, her voice professional but not unkind. "Your name? Your parents' names? Where you live?"

  The girl shook her head again, fresh tears threatening to spill. "I don't remember anything. Please... who am I?"

  Dr. Reeves exchanged a gnce with Ms. Winters before sitting on the edge of the bed. "When you were brought in, you had no identification. No one has reported a missing child matching your description. We've been calling you Jane Doe in our records, but—"

  "That's not my name," the girl interrupted, surprising herself with her certainty. "I... I don't know what my name is, but it's not that."

  "Of course," Dr. Reeves nodded. "Would you like us to give you a name to use for now? Until we can find out more about you?"

  The girl considered this for a moment, then nodded hesitantly.

  Nurse Chen smiled. "What about Eris? It means 'beloved.' I've always thought it was a beautiful name."

  The girl tested the name in her mind. Eris. It didn't trigger any recognition, but it felt better than being nameless. "Eris," she repeated softly. "Okay."

  "And for a st name, perhaps Kane?" Dr. Reeves suggested. "After the street where the hospital is located."

  "Eris Kane," the girl said, trying the full name. It felt foreign on her tongue, but it was something to hold onto in the vast emptiness of her memory. "That's... that's me?"

  "For now," Ms. Winters said, making a note in her file. "Eris, I need to expin something to you. We're doing everything we can to find your family, but until then, we need to make arrangements for your care. Once Dr. Reeves gives medical clearance, we'll pce you in a temporary home. Do you understand what that means?"

  Eris shook her head.

  "It means you'll stay with other children who need homes, just until we can find your family," Ms. Winters expined. "It's called an orphanage, but it doesn't mean you're an orphan. It's just temporary."

  "How temporary?" Eris asked.

  The three adults exchanged looks again, and Eris felt her stomach sink at their silent communication.

  "We don't know yet," Ms. Winters admitted. "But Serenity Home is a good pce. The director, Martha Hayes, is a wonderful woman who takes excellent care of all her children."

  Eris nodded numbly, too overwhelmed to argue or question further. The reality of her situation was beginning to sink in. She was no one. A bnk ste. A girl without a past.

  "Your physical injuries are healing well," Dr. Reeves said, changing the subject. "The CT scans show no sting damage to your brain, which is excellent news. However, your amnesia is what we call 'retrograde'—affecting memories from before your accident. It could be temporary or..." He hesitated.

  "Or it could be permanent," Eris finished for him, surprising even herself with her understanding.

  Dr. Reeves nodded solemnly. "Yes. But you're young, and the brain has remarkable healing abilities. We'll continue with some tests, and I've arranged for you to speak with a specialist in childhood trauma and memory loss."

  As the adults continued discussing her case, Eris turned to look out the window. The sky was overcast, gray clouds hanging low over the city skyline. Somewhere out there, was there someone looking for her? Did she have parents who were worried sick, searching desperately for their missing daughter? Or was she truly alone in the world?

  She had no answers, only questions that echoed in the vast emptiness of her mind.

  Two weeks ter, Nurse Chen helped Eris into a wheelchair, though the girl had insisted she could walk.

  "Hospital policy," the nurse said with a wink. "Everyone gets the royal treatment on their way out."

  Eris wore donated clothes—jeans, a simple blue t-shirt, and a gray zip-up hoodie that was slightly too rge. A small backpack containing more donated clothing and toiletries sat on her p. These were her only possessions in the world.

  Dr. Reeves had signed her discharge papers that morning. Despite daily sessions with Dr. Linnet, the memory specialist, Eris had not recovered a single fragment of her past. Physical therapy had restored her body's strength, but her mind remained locked to her.

  "Are you ready?" Ms. Winters asked, standing by the hospital entrance.

  No, Eris thought. How could anyone be ready to go live among strangers when they didn't even know themselves? But she nodded anyway.

  Ms. Winters's car was sleek and bck, with leather seats that felt cool against Eris's palms. As they drove through the busy streets of Sanctum City, Eris pressed her forehead against the window, watching the world pass by. Nothing looked familiar. Nothing triggered even the faintest glimmer of recognition.

  "Serenity Home has about thirty children right now, ranging from toddlers to teenagers," Ms. Winters expined as they drove. "Director Hayes runs a tight ship, but she's fair and genuinely cares about the children. You'll share a room with three other girls around your age."

  "How old am I?" Eris asked suddenly. It was a question that had been bothering her since she woke up.

  "Based on dental records and developmental markers, the doctors estimate you're about seven years old," Ms. Winters answered. "Give or take a few months."

  Seven. The number meant nothing to Eris. She felt ageless, timeless, adrift in a world that suddenly seemed too big and too complicated.

  The car turned onto a quiet street lined with maple trees, their leaves just beginning to show hints of autumn gold. At the end of the street stood a rge Victorian-style house, its faded blue paint and white trim giving it a stately yet welcoming appearance.

  "Here we are," Ms. Winters announced, pulling into the circur driveway. "Serenity Home."

  Eris stared at the three-story building. Children of various ages pyed in the yard—some on swings, others kicking a ball, a few just sitting under trees reading books. It looked so... normal. As if all these children hadn't experienced their own personal tragedies to end up here.

  The front door opened before they even reached it, and a tall woman with silver-streaked bck hair pulled into a tight bun stepped out to greet them. Despite her stern appearance, her eyes were kind.

  "You must be Eris," she said, her voice warm but authoritative. "I'm Director Hayes, but most of the children call me Director Martha. Welcome to Serenity Home."

  Eris nodded, suddenly shy. She clutched her backpack tightly against her chest like a shield.

  "Thank you for taking her on such short notice," Ms. Winters said, handing over a file. "All her medical information and the police report are in here. We're still actively searching for her family, of course."

  "Of course," Director Martha nodded, though something in her tone suggested she'd heard those words many times before, with varying results. She turned her attention back to Eris. "Would you like to see your room?"

  Eris nodded again, still not trusting her voice.

  "Ms. Winters, would you like to join us?" Director Martha asked.

  "I'm afraid I have another appointment," the social worker replied. She knelt down to Eris's level. "I'll be checking in regurly, Eris. And you can always ask Director Martha to call me if you need anything. Okay?"

  "Okay," Eris whispered. "Thank you."

  As Ms. Winters drove away, Eris felt the st connection to her hospital life—the only life she knew—disappearing. She took a deep breath and followed Director Martha inside.

  The interior of Serenity Home was clean and well-maintained, if somewhat worn. The entryway opened into a rge living area where several children were engaged in quiet activities. They looked up curiously as Eris entered, their gazes lingering on the newcomer.

  "Everyone, this is Eris Kane," Director Martha announced. "She'll be staying with us for a while. I expect you all to make her feel welcome."

  A chorus of half-hearted greetings rose from the group before they returned to their activities. All except one boy, who stared at Eris with unconcealed suspicion. He was older than her by several years, with dark hair and intense eyes. Something about his gaze made Eris want to both hide and stand taller at the same time.

  "That's Vance," Director Martha said, following Eris's gaze. "Vance Cross. He's been with us for about three years now."

  Vance continued to stare for a moment longer before deliberately turning his back on her, returning to the book he'd been reading. The dismissal was clear, and Eris felt a strange sting of rejection.

  "Don't mind him," Director Martha said softly. "He takes time to warm up to new people. Come, let's get you settled."

  They climbed the wide staircase to the second floor, walking down a hallway lined with doors decorated with nameptes and drawings. Director Martha stopped at a door with three names already on it: Lily, Sarah, and Mei.

  "This will be your room," she said, opening the door to reveal a modestly sized bedroom with two bunk beds, four small dressers, and a shared closet. "You'll have the bottom bunk on the right. Mei has the top. The bathroom is at the end of the hall—girls on the right, boys on the left."

  Eris stepped into the room, taking in what would be her new home for... how long? Days? Weeks? Forever?

  "Dinner is at six," Director Martha continued. "Breakfast is from seven to eight, and lunch is at noon. School is currently in session, so you'll be starting next Monday. I've arranged for pcement testing tomorrow to determine which grade would be appropriate for you."

  The information washed over Eris like a wave, threatening to drown her. School. Grades. Tests. It all sounded so normal, yet so impossibly foreign at the same time.

  "I know this is overwhelming," Director Martha said, her voice softening. "But children are remarkably resilient, Eris. You'll find your footing here. And who knows? Perhaps your memory will return, and this will all be temporary."

  Eris nodded, though she didn't share the director's optimism. The specialists had been clear—the longer she went without recovering memories, the less likely a full recovery became.

  "I'll let you get settled," Director Martha said. "Your roommates should be back from school in about an hour. If you need anything before then, I'll be in my office at the end of the hall."

  When the director left, Eris sat on the edge of her assigned bed, running her hands over the pin blue comforter. The room was neat but clearly lived-in, with personal touches from the other three girls scattered around—posters on the walls, stuffed animals on beds, books and trinkets on the dressers.

  She opened her backpack and took out her few belongings: three t-shirts, two pairs of jeans, underwear, socks, a pair of pajamas, a toothbrush, and a small notebook the hospital had given her to "journal her feelings." She arranged them carefully in the empty dresser, the task taking only moments.

  With nothing else to do, Eris ventured back into the hallway. She could hear the sounds of children downstairs—ughing, arguing, living their lives despite whatever circumstances had brought them here. She followed the banister to the staircase and paused, watching the activity below.

  The boy named Vance was no longer in the living room. Curious about the only person who'd caught her attention so far, Eris descended the stairs, hoping to explore the rest of the house.

  As she reached the bottom step, a group of three older girls entered from what appeared to be the kitchen, chatting among themselves. They stopped when they spotted Eris.

  "Well, look at this," said the tallest one, a girl with sandy blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail. "The new girl's out of hiding."

  "I wasn't hiding," Eris said, surprising herself with the defiance in her voice.

  The blonde raised an eyebrow. "Got a mouth on you, huh? What's your name again?"

  "Eris. Eris Kane."

  "That's not your real name though, is it?" said another girl, this one with braces and freckles. "I heard the staff talking. You're the amnesia girl. The one who doesn't know who she is."

  Eris felt her face grow hot with a mixture of shame and anger. "So?"

  "So nothing," the blonde said with a shrug that was anything but casual. "Just wondering what it's like to be nobody."

  "I'm not nobody," Eris said, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

  "Really? Then who are you?" The blonde stepped closer, towering over Eris. "You don't even know your real name. You're just a bnk. A nothing. Even the rest of us know where we came from, even if we ended up here."

  "Leave her alone, Lindsay."

  The voice came from behind Eris. She turned to see Vance standing at the entrance to what looked like a small library. His expression was neutral, but his eyes were hard as they fixed on the blonde girl.

  "Mind your own business, Cross," Lindsay snapped, though Eris noticed she took a small step back.

  "Director Martha said to make her feel welcome. That doesn't sound very welcoming to me." Vance's voice was quiet but carried an unmistakable authority despite his youth.

  Lindsay looked like she wanted to argue, but after a moment of tense silence, she rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Come on, girls. Let's go somewhere more interesting." She brushed past Eris, deliberately bumping her shoulder as she passed.

  When they were gone, Eris turned to Vance. "Thank you," she said softly.

  Vance studied her for a long moment before speaking. "Don't thank me yet. Lindsay won't let it go that easily."

  "Why does she hate me? She doesn't even know me."

  "It's not about you," Vance said. "Lindsay hates everyone who gets more attention than her. New kids always get attention."

  Eris frowned. "I don't want attention."

  "Doesn't matter what you want. That's just how it is here." He turned to go back into the library.

  "Wait," Eris called after him. "How long have you been here?"

  Vance paused. "Three years, two months, and fourteen days."

  The precision of his answer startled her. He had been counting.

  "Does it get easier?" she asked.

  Vance looked at her over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. For a moment, Eris thought he wouldn't answer.

  "No," he said finally. "But you get stronger." He disappeared into the library, leaving Eris alone with his words echoing in her mind.

  You get stronger.

  Standing in the hallway of a strange house filled with strange children, her past a complete bnk and her future uncertain, Eris made a silent promise to herself. She would get stronger. She had to. In this new world where she was "the girl with no past," strength might be the only thing she could truly call her own.