Chapter 186: Fragments of the Mind

Lysander led her down a quiet corridor of the medical facility, boots echoing softly against the polished stone floor. The scent of herbs and old parchment lingered faintly in the air, drifting from shelves filled with jars labeled in neat, sharp handwriting. It wasn’t often that anyone saw this part of the building, this section was mostly reserved for private consultations or research that demanded silence. Lysander was the one who used it more but since he’d been spending more time with his wife and assisting her, he hasn’t been here much.

He stopped in front of a smaller room and pushed the door open. The space inside was simple and uncluttered. A narrow bed sat against one wall, sheets crisp and white. Beside it, a desk held a few scattered notes, an inkwell, and a candle burned down halfway. Dust motes floated lazily in the beam of light cutting through the single window. The air here was still, like it hadn’t been disturbed for a while.

Lysander gestured for her to sit. "You’ll be more comfortable here," he said quietly.

Sophia sat on the wooden chair, smoothing the fabric of her cloak. Her heart beat faster than she cared to admit.

Lysander crossed the room, retrieving a book from one of the shelves. The cover was thick, weathered leather, its edges frayed from use. The same book Tobias had brought him. He set it down between them and then sat opposite her, folding his arms atop the desk.

"I’ll be honest with you, Sophia," he began, his tone direct but gentle. "I don’t have a definite way to help you recover your memories."

The little spark of hope she’d carried here flickered weakly and dimmed. For a moment, she stared at him, lips parting as if to protest, but no words came out.

She felt the relief, too. A small, shameful part of her loosened its grip. If there was no cure, no clear way forward, then maybe she could stop trying to force the past out of hiding. Maybe she could stay in the quiet peace she had found here—with Orion, with the others—without fearing what her mind might reveal.

But another part of her whispered otherwise. She wasn’t just doing this for herself. She was doing it for Orion too. And not just because of the deal they struck. It was more than that.

Lysander exhaled softly, rubbing the bridge of his nose before opening the book. The pages were yellowed, ink faded in places, but his notes filled the margins in neat, precise handwriting. "This condition of yours, you already know but I’ll repeat myself, it’s rare. There are very few records that describe it properly. Tobias found this text for me and it’s one of the most complete we’ve seen but even this doesn’t offer any real cure. It only explains... what it is."

Sophia leaned forward slightly, listening intently as he flipped a few pages. Diagrams sprawled across the book sketched by careful hands long ago—lines and arrows pointing to shaded sections labeled memory pathways and trauma response circuits.

Lysander tapped one page with his finger. "From what I understand, memory loss like yours is often caused by trauma. It could be physical trauma, something striking the head, a fall, or an injury to the brain itself. That’s one possibility."

He turned another page. "But sometimes, the cause is psychological. A defensive mechanism. The mind... hides certain memories as a way to protect itself from something too painful to process. From what I understand, this one isn’t mainly caused by physical trauma for some people. But it depends."

"Okay?" Sophia told him.

"Then for some cases, it’s both. Even if the body heals, the mind or rather the brain refuses to unlock what it’s buried. It prefers the safe space and protects the individual instead."

Sophia’s brow furrowed. "So you’re saying... mine was caused by both?"

He nodded slowly. "I believe so. When we found you, you had clear signs of physical injury. You had hit your head on something and you were bleeding profusely. So I think that could have triggered it. But I don’t think that was the only reason. Your brain... it’s...it’s protecting you. That’s why it hasn’t allowed you to remember yet."

Sophia sat back, her hands resting tightly in her lap. "But protecting me from what?" she asked herself softly.

"That’s what we don’t know. But whatever it is, your brain has a reason for doing so." Lysander told her calmly.

Sophia frowned, what could be so terrible that even her own mind had locked it away?

He closed the book gently and leaned back in his chair. "I have one theory, though, one I got from hours pouring over this book," he said. "Sometimes, when a person begins to re-engage with familiar experiences—sights, smells, or routines that once mattered to them—it can trigger fragments of memory. The brain begins to associate again. It remembers what it once loved."

Sophia looked down at her hands. "But I’m in a new place now. Everything here is... different. I can’t even remember what I liked before I came here."

Lysander gave a nod. "That’s true. But is there nothing that calls to you just from seeing them?" He asked her.

It took her a moment to answer. "Books," she said finally. "I like reading. Stories, histories, even research. Immediately I stepped into the library, I was excited for what I was about to discover."

Lysander nodded thoughtfully. "Then maybe that’s where you begin. If your love for reading is something that carried over, it might still be tied to who you were before. Sometimes, the smallest habits hold the biggest keys."

She nodded, the faintest trace of hope returning to her face.

"If you notice anything," Lysander continued, "even something small, you come to me. Don’t try to force it. Just let it come naturally. The mind will open its doors when it’s ready."

Sophia smiled faintly. "All right. I can do that."

Lysander’s eyes softened, but a thoughtful shadow crossed them. "There’s another thing," he said after a moment. "Eldric might not have been entirely wrong. He insisted the shine could help, maybe you knowing the lost language could help you recover it after all."

Sophia blinked then nodded.

"Well," Lysander said, closing the book and sliding it aside, "I’ve learned not to dismiss his instincts even if he can be extremely weird. And Sophia, sometimes memory, especially the kind buried by pain responds to places like that. There’s magic in the shrine and maybe that’s what you need. Sometimes, the mind isn’t the only thing that needs to remember, the soul does too."

The words sent a ripple down her spine.

She nodded slowly. "Thank you, Lysander. For this."

He smiled. "Don’t thank me yet. I just gave you more questions than answers."

"Still," she said, standing, "it’s a start. And... I think I have somewhere to be."

"The shrine?"

"The library first," she said, glancing toward the window. "Eldric and I were supposed to visit the shrine together today. I should go find him."

Lysander chuckled. "Good luck with that. If Eldric doesn’t want to be found then he likely wouldn’t and now that his mate has left the pack well..."

"Well what?" I doubt he’d be at the library or even willing to do anything for a while.

"He’s that lovestruck?" Sophia asked with a frown.

"To an extreme." Lysander chuckled.

"Anyhow, I’ll still visit the library." She told him and he nodded.

Sophia turned to leave, pausing at the door. "I’ll come visit you and Brynhild soon," she said with a soft smile.

Lysander’s eyes warmed. "She’ll like that."

Then she was gone, footsteps fading into the corridor.

Outside, the snow had thickened into a curtain of white, each flake glinting faintly in the pale afternoon light. Sophia pulled her cloak tighter as she made her way toward the library. Her thoughts tangled with Lysander’s words—trauma, protection, memory. What was her mind trying to protect her from?

By the time she reached the library, the warmth from the hearth inside greeted her like a gentle sigh. The vast room was filled with the usual people and some pack members who hung around.

She walked briskly toward Eldric’s office, pushing open the door open and as Lysander said, he wasn’t in. He had been so eager to translate the writing on the shrine and now he was pulling this.

She exhaled deeply choosing to make some research on her own especially about the footwork technique Orion had told her. She searched the library for anything that has information on footwork and perhaps even amnesia.

She couldn’t find anyone on amnesia but she found on footwork and on shortswords. She took the books to a table and sat down to read them. Maybe later that night, she could make Orion explain the little parts she didn’t understand.

But as Sophia read the books, she realised she didn’t understand anything except very little.