ONE (Book 1 in the Amnesia Archives)

Prologue

-Third Person POV-

A shrill scream echoed through the mansion. The yells and cries of a woman giving birth echoed through the walls.

On the bed. Gasping for air and covered in a thin layer of sweat, there was a beautiful woman who looked wonderfully ordinary. She had thick brown hair and brown eyes, fair skin and a petite stature. She gripped the sheets underneath her tightly as her expression contorted in pain.

"I can see the first one's head!" one of the helpers said encouragingly. "One more push. You're doing so well Miss Marcher, they're here."

And so Criastine Marcher gave one last push, and a sigh. A baby's cries filled the room, and the newborn was immediately rushed off. Another woman took the baby and left the room immediately.

"Where are they going?" Criastine asked, concerned about the whereabouts of her child. She couldn't think for long though, as she gasped and tilted her head back, another cry leaving her throat. "The next one's coming."

"Very eager," the helper commented. But her skin had gone as pale as chalk, and she found it difficult to move. "R-right Miss Marcher, we have to do this all again. Push for me."

And so, another child was born and immediately rushed out of the room, wrapped in a blanket which obscured their entire body from their mother.

"Why are they being taken away?" Criastine asked breathlessly, barely being able to concentrate from the pain and dizziness this ordeal was causing her. "Are my babies okay?"

"They seem to be perfectly healthy Miss Marcher," the primary helper said politely and steadily, trying to keep her composure. "I just noticed some things and I felt like they needed to be looked over."

"What things?" Criastine's tone filled with worry over her babies' safety. "What did you notice? Tell me." Her voice was becoming frantic as her eyes became pleading. "They're my children."

"Please calm down." The helper put her hands on Criastine's shoulders and gently moved her back into a lying position. "You have one more to go, it will do the two of you no good if you stress like this."

Criastine looked as though she wanted to argue, but she didn't have the energy to as her breathing grew heavy again. She was still having contractions and it felt like the third was coming. However, this felt different to the other two.

"I can see them," the helper informed quietly. "They look rather small."

"What?" Criastine asked, despair lacing her voice. After all, it is not common for small babies to make it past the first two weeks of their life.

"I'll have to help them." The helper took a deep breath and moved forward.

With a lot of assistance, the third baby was born silent. The helper rushed out of the room with the third baby, leaving an exhausted Miss Marcher to yell after her. Criastine was too tired to move at first. She was in agony, and she felt like she could barely move her legs. But this was her babies' lives, and she was going to find out what was wrong with them.

She shakily moved her legs over the side of the bed and reached forward for the wheelchair which had been brought to her home just in case this happened, and she was too weak to walk, which she'd expected would be the case after giving birth to triplets. She sat in the chair and used the furniture and moved the wooden wheels with her hands to pull her along. She lingered in the doorway where she saw the two women fussing over three bundles.

"How do we tell her something like this?" the primary helper asked in a hushed whisper. "We should be informing the temple straight away."

"The temple is ages away," the other helper argued. "We can't exactly swap them for any children. We're far from the town. Miss, we can't hide this. We need to inform Miss Marcher about what her children are."

Criastine's blood ran cold, and her heart dropped as she continued to observe the two women. That was when one of the babies began crying. It was a shrill sound, a plea for help and attention. It caused the other two to join in, having been disturbed. There appeared to be one with a softer voice than the other two, maybe that one was the younger, weaker one.

"They want their mother," Criastine declared as she wheeled herself into the room. "Let me see them." Her gaze was firm and determined as she steadily moved closer to the table where the babies were.

"No Miss Marcher," the primary helper said quickly, blocking the table with her body. Her complexion remained pale, and her expression was frightened. She glanced between the mother and the babies. "There is something peculiar about them." Her voice shook as she tried to remain calm. "And we are trying to diagnose it."

"That can wait," Criastine replied. "What co8ld be so abnormal that you won't let me see my children?"

The two other ladies glanced at each other one more time, exchanging a silent conversation.

"Their appearance is far from normal Miss Marcher," the secondary helper explained quietly. "It was a bit of a shock to us both. We've never seen anything like it. We think it may have something to do with their father."

Criastine's eyes narrowed. "And who do you think the father is? Nobody has come to claim them, I certainly don't know." That wasn't abnormal for a woman of Criastine's career and social standing, but it still made the helpers feel extremely awkward.

Criastine was a young woman of twenty-three years old. She was not well-suited to be a wife, having grown up rather poor and living on a farm. She didn't hold the social standing to be married to a man of wealth, and she seemed to despise the family business. And so, she ran away to the nearest city when she was fifteen and went straight into creating a name for herself. She was beautiful, clever, and charming, which was all she needed to survive there. When she fell pregnant, she couldn't help but feel an unusual connection to the babies. It was like she had found a purpose, to care for her children and give them a life which she was denied, a life in the city with friends and a proper education.

"Please Miss, prepare yourself." The secondary helper moved to the table and picked up one of the bundles of joy. "Their skin is an unnatural colour, and they seem to have protrusions."

Criastine's eyes narrowed, and her heart began pounding. "Unnatural skin? Protrusions?" she repeated, her voice full of disbelief. "Show them to me."

The primary helper sighed remorsefully and picked up the other two bundles. The two women bent down in front of Criastine and presented her with her children.

The shrillest scream of the night left Criastine's lips as she looked at her three children, who each had skin a shade of blue. They had small protrusions on their foreheads, and they all had rather strange eyes of inhuman colours of black or red.

"They are not my children," Criastine growled out after her horrified screams ceased. "They look like they belong to the underworld itself." She glared at the three little babies who were still crying with distress. She once felt protection and love for them, but now that had bubbled into a boiling pot of rage and disgust at the very sight of them.

The second helper cleared her throat. "Miss, we can't send them to an orphanage." Her voice was quiet and shy, scared of what the woman might do.

"They are not leaving this house," Criastine declared. "I cannot let it be known that I have given birth to monsters." She took a few deep breaths. "They'll stay here and rot."