Original subtitles

Is it true?

And how was your evening?

They cannot do this! It's beyond unfair.

It's already done.

Ignorant bastards.

- Language, Helen. - You brought the Royal College

out of the Dark Ages.

Sanitation reforms, treatments for smallpox,

cholera. Those were all your incentives.

You can't be surprised.

They've been trying to rescind my membership for a decade now.

It only took this long because they lack imagination.

What is it?

Like father, like daughter I suppose.

- Helen, I'm so sorry. - I had the highest possible marks

in the entrance exam,

and yet they've rejected me again.

You already know more than the doctors who wrote the exam.

I cannot legally practise medicine

anywhere without a degree from the London School.

There's not a hospital or clinic in Europe that would hire me.

This is my third rejection. I can't take the exam again.

Because you're a Magnus.

I do not accept this, Father!

I will not settle for a life of mediocrity and subjugation!

I want more.

Teach me.

My...

private research is...

unorthodox, Helen.

It is not to be entered into lightly.

Nor with anger.

You are the most talented medical reasearcher I have ever known.

And yet you keep your most important work hidden from the world,

from me.

If you truly believe that I have potential, Father, please,

help me achieve it.

Once you enter this door

you are on a path that cannot be reversed.

The Projet-SG Team presents:

Sanctuary Webisode 06 v. 1.0

Timing : Golgi, Linwelin.

Transcript : Egwene, Linwelin, Seiyatheleaper.

Edition : Golgi, Linwelin.

Proofreading : Golgi, Egwene, Linwelin.

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It's as though this is all a dream

and when we wake up everything will be the same as it was before.

Why is nothing familiar to us?

This building, these clothes,

and these rooms are all warm without fire,

the light is unchanging with the day.

It's a lot to digest, Caird.

I see myself in the mirror and

I recognize my face.

I know Tatha and Danu but

the person I thought I was...

You're telling me there is no village, no sickness.

The little I can remember is false.

How can we all not feel completely lost?

Danu has told us that you insist there were no magics involved,

that what we suffer is simply a malady.

It's more of an emotional shield.

We found you in a crypt surrounded by monsters,

it's normal for the human psyche to put itself in a safe mode.

We want to accept your diagnosis, Doctor.

And we are grateful for all that you've done.

- It's just... - Still not buying it.

The clinical term is Schizo-affective Disorder,

it's a delusional state stemming from acute post traumatic stress.

People have awoken from comas thinking that they were...

royalty, that they were aliens from another planet,

even people with super powers.

But we are all three suffering from the same disorder,

- how is that possible? - Delusional behaviour

occuring virally in groups is rare, but it's not undocumented,

particularly amongst siblings.

Look,

let me put it this way.

If you really were 1200 years old,

then there's no way I would understand anything you're saying right now.

How do you explain that?

There is no logical or physical way that your memories can be real,

the sooner you accept that,

the sooner we can continue to make progress.

Because the truth will out eventually.

It always does.

Excellent timing, I'm starved.

- They raise my hackles. - In a good way?

You know there is no good way.

- Progress? - Nothing concrete.

Base physiology is essentially human.

The DNA scans indicate significant mutations to key chromosomes,

likely resulting in increased adrenal production,

heightened strength and reflexes,

as well as this lovely appearance.

All in all, be glad you missed it.

I am not.

You were recuperating, we managed.

You were lucky,

and I am fine now.

I'll be the judge of that.

Yes, Doctor.

Now,

what remains to be determined is whether our friend's genetic

mutation is accidental in nature,

or by design.

- You think someone made him? - I think,

there are a lot of unanswered questions about these creatures,

including

the significance of this.

From his right hand, index finger.

It is old,

- very old. - That's what I thought.

Which is why I'll be needing a ride later tonight.

Where are we going?

To see if your hackles are right.

I want you to concentrate

on the sound of my voice.

I'm goint to count backwards from five,

four, three, two, one.

Danu, can you hear me?

Yes.

I want you to go back

to the last thing you remember before you woke up here.

The creatures.

They're too strong.

We can't escape.

Why are they doing this?

We've done nothing wrong.

They're making us drink something.

We can't move.

Darkness.

I want you to go back further,

find a memory of something that happened before the creatures took you.

Moonlight.

It's cold.

I'm in a field.

I can sense the dead.

Their souls extinguished.

Only we remain.

They're not nightmares.

That field.

All the dead.

We were actually there that night.

It's more than that.

We were the reason.

Doctor, your message was very intriguing, you never disappoint.

I see you've cleaned up since I was here last.

Oh, I know, it's so austere and uninviting, I deplore it.

But when one's life is centred around a cruel irony,

one has to make a few concessions.

This way.

After you.

Thank you.

Paintings and moisture are mortal enemies.

Sadly I need both to survive.

Now let me take a look at your precious little bauble and we can get started.

Oh, this is interesting.

Wherever did you find it?

Scotland,

on a mutated human guarding an ancient crypt.

Scotland, you say? Curiouser!

Ring any bells?

Plenty of them.

Just a question of deciding which ones to listen to.

The design is at least a thousand years old,

predating the Norman conquest I'd wager.

I know I've definitely seen something like it before.

Yes.

Ringing bells, ringing bells.

Ding dong.

And voil�.

5th century tapestry reproduction.

Now, what are they being offered here?

- Blood of Christ? - Oh please!

Nothing so clich�!

No, this design is a symbol of the Cabalis Nocturnum,

a quaint little subsect of Romano-British knights

from the early Middle Ages,

charged with protecting the world from dark influences, I believe.

These warriors likely drank from the chalice

as a gesture of loyalty and faith to the cause.

And who's the man offering it to them? A priest?

Bigger.

Think the most powerful man in Britain at the time. Hint - not King Arthur.

Merlin.

These knights were probably rejects from Arthur's court,

desperate to prove themselves worthy.

They accepted a hideous task,

fighting the dark forces unleashed by Merlin's nemesis,

Morgan LeFay,

evil sorceress,

avowed enemy of Arthur,

all around mean spirited bitch.

And...

who are they?

Those would be the Morrigan,

emissaries created by Morgan to wreak havock against Arthur's armies,

the very embodiment of her hellish powers.

Legend has it their very presence on the battlefield

would steal the souls of Arthur's soldiers.

They've popped up in literature throughout the ages,

most notably as a the trio of hags in Macbeth.

You know, boil, boil toil and all that.

So the Morrigan were witches.

No, love,

they were The witches.

Easy, Steve. Easy.

Ladies?

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