Chapter 289: The Weight of What She Forgot

Chapter 288: The Weight of What She Forgot

Orion was already halfway to the door, anger radiating off him so strongly the air around him felt charged. His shoulders were tense, his breath harsh, and every step he took echoed fury.

"Orion!" Lysander called sharply.

But Orion didn’t listen to him. He didn’t stop, he just kept moving.

"Orion!" Lysander tried again, louder this time. "What the hell, brother? Are you okay?"

"Orion."

This time it was Sophia’s voice. She called his name calmly. Her voice was soft as she spoke.

He froze.

Then, slowly, he turned.

Her eyes were on him. And even though the memory had shaken her to her bones, even though she looked exhausted and fragile and far too pale against the bed, she still had that fierce look about her.

"Stay where you are," she whispered sternly. "Don’t even think about taking a step out of this room."

"I’m not going to lie to you, shorty. I have the thought. I’m already fucking thinking about it and still fucking thinking about it."

Sophia swallowed. "I wasn’t being drowned in a lake."

Orion blinked. "What?"

"It wasn’t a lake," she said with a shaky breath. "It was a large washbasin filled with water."

Orion stared at her. Then his expression twisted.

"That doesn’t fucking make it better, Sophia," he growled.

"I—"

"I’m not fucking sure I even want to hear anything right now, Sophia. You think drowning in a contained space makes it better?" he snapped. "You were six, Sophia. Six."

She tried to move from the bed, to walk toward him, but the moment she moved, pain shot through her battered muscles.

She released a strained, quiet sound. It was barely a whimper. But it might as well have been a scream to Orion.

In the space of a heartbeat, he was at her side once more, taking her hands in his.

"Sophia?" His voice softened instantly, the fury replaced with fear. "Shorty, are you okay? What hurts? Tell me."

"I’m not okay," she whispered. "My whole body hurts, Orion. It’s fucking obvious I’m not okay."

His throat bobbed.

"Okay," he breathed. "Okay. Just... don’t move too much. Please."

"Maybe don’t do anything stupid like trying to kill my mother," she said to him.

His eyes snapped up. "Sophia—"

"I mean it," she insisted. "You shouldn’t even think of killing her."

He stared at her like she’d lost her mind. Then he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a dangerous, quiet rumble.

"A mother shouldn’t have acted that way to her child. A mother doesn’t drown their own daughter. A mother doesn’t hit her when she already has a fever. A mother doesn’t blame a six-year-old for other people dying. A mother doesn’t—"

"I know, Orion."

"Do you?" His voice cracked. "Because you’re telling me not to kill her like she deserves anything but death."

"I’m only telling you not to do so because we have absolutely no idea who she is or even where the fuck she is, Orion. How exactly do you even plan to kill her?" she asked him.

"I’ll search," he said without missing a beat.

"For who?" Sophia asked.

"For any woman with long black hair who looks like you."

Sophia blinked at him, slow and unimpressed. "Do you know how many people in the world have long black hair?" she asked him, using his words from earlier on him.

He opened his mouth, then shut it.

"And what if," she continued with a tired sigh, "I don’t look like my mother at all? What if I look more like my father?"

Orion stared blankly, then said, "Then I’ll search for your father too."

Sophia looked at him like he was insane. "I don’t even know who my father is."

"...Okay, then I’ll search for your mother. I’ll search for anything," he told her.

"I don’t remember my mother’s face," she added. "I told you that. I don’t remember how she looks. I remember the hair but... nothing else."

Orion dragged a hand down his face. "Sophia, you’re making this so difficult."

"How am I the one making this so difficult for you? If anything, you are the one who’s making things difficult," she told him.

Orion turned to Lysander for backup, but all he got was a shrug.

He exhaled sharply. "Fine. Fine. Was there anything you remember? A symbol? A crest? Something that could at least tell me what pack she belonged to?"

Sophia shook her head. "I don’t remember."

Orion’s eye twitched.

"Okay then," he said stiffly. "What about how she dressed?"

"She dressed stylishly," Sophia answered. "And freely."

Lysander snorted. "You do realize that that’s exactly how most people dress, right? Especially in the East, the West, and the South."

Orion slowly turned his head toward Lysander with a look that said he was one comment away from committing homicide.

Lysander shrugged again. "What? I’m just telling you the truth."

Orion groaned loudly.

Lysander added calmly, "The only region with specific, distinct clothing styles is the North. And she clearly wasn’t from there. We all know that."

"Fuck!"

Sophia watched him, then reached out slowly and took his hand in hers.

She squeezed once.

"Relax," she whispered.

"How?" he snapped. "Sophia, how am I supposed to relax when you’re telling me all this?"

"It’s okay—"

"No," he cut in. "It’s not okay."

She blinked.

He leaned closer, lowering his voice because the words felt heavy. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

"You haven’t recovered all your memories." His eyes darkened. "This is just one. One memory. And it nearly killed you to remember it."

Sophia looked away. Her breathing went shallow.

"You decided — when you were six — that this memory was too much for you. And you locked it away. You erased it. You buried it so deeply you forgot it even existed." His voice broke. "And recovering it was still painful enough to put you into this state. I almost lost you, Sophia. You almost died, and it felt like someone was ripping my heart out."

Sophia swallowed. She remembered how she almost died and how her mother had quickly brought in healers to ensure she was okay, practically bringing her back from the brink of death.

"What if the others are worse?"

Sophia froze at those words.

"What if every memory you’re missing is directly connected to her?" he continued. "What if your brain couldn’t handle it again? What if it shuts everything off again to protect you?"

Sophia opened her mouth to argue, but Orion shook his head.

"No, don’t tell me it’s impossible." He looked at her hand — the one with the faint marks. "Because we found you with marks on your skin. Marks tied to black magic."

The room fell silent at his words, the only sound that of breathing.

His voice lowered even more.

"What if it was her?" he whispered. "What if it was your mother who did everything? What if she tried to hurt you again and your brain couldn’t cope with it and decided to shut it off instead?"