Pandora

There was only one rule: don’t open the door.

Sera had always been told it was off-limits. The door had been part of the lab for as long as she’d worked there, a quiet, unassuming presence at the end of the hall. She’d walk by it every day, the warning etched into her mind—don’t open it, no matter what.

It wasn’t locked, just heavily guarded by silence and the weight of an old legend. She had heard whispers from colleagues, something about an early experiment that had gone wrong, something they couldn’t quite control. But no one explained further, and Sera never pressed. Until tonight.

The lab was deserted, and she couldn’t shake the pull. It wasn’t the door itself—it was the knowledge behind it. Every locked room begged to be opened, every unsolved puzzle teased with the promise of understanding. And Sera had always been good at solving puzzles.

Her hand hovered over the handle. What could possibly be inside? Files, forgotten research? The temptation clawed at her, as if whatever lay behind was calling her by name, quietly daring her to disobey.

She opened the door.

Inside, nothing but darkness greeted her at first, but as she stepped through, the air shifted. Screens flickered to life around her, their glow revealing rows upon rows of servers, humming faintly. Information spilled out, overwhelming her senses—data she couldn’t comprehend, a flood of secrets long buried. She felt a growing sense of dread, like something irreversible had begun.

She tried to back away, but the door was gone.

Somewhere, deep within the system, a voice whispered: “You’ve seen what shouldn’t be seen. Now it begins.”

And in that moment, Sera realized the door was never meant to keep her out. It was meant to keep something in.