Chapter 85: Deja Vu?

"What kind of dream was that?"Sophia asked herself with a frown.

Sophia rubbed her arms, shivering though the morning air was mild. She had had strange dreams before. One example was the dream about the trihydra and they always left her unsettled but never this clear. This one clung to her, vivid and complete, like she’d stepped into someone else’s life for a night which was weird. It couldn’t be possible.

She walked into the small adjoining washroom, splashing cold water on her face. The icy sting grounded her a little. She braced her hands on the edge of the basin and stared into her reflection. Her hair, damp from the water, clung to her cheeks. Her moon-pale eyes stared back at her. She still didn’t recognize the person looking at her, not completely.

’Why did it feel so familiar?’ she thought.

She has not seen a woman like that before. Could it be that it was related to her lost memories? But that wouldn’t make sense? Rita was in the dream. She met Rita here at Nightshade pack so it couldn’t be right.

The more she tried to understand, the more she felt confused. The dream had meaning. It held significance but she couldn’t place why or how.

She straightened up and wiped her face with a towel. "Enough," she muttered. "It’s all a dream. It’s just a dream."

She told herself. She pulled on her training clothes, a fitted black shirt and worn gray trousers, the ones she always wore to run in, and laced up her boots. She tied her hair back in a rough knot. As she glanced at the library book still on her bed, she hesitated. Then she left it where it was, face-down.

The air smelled faintly of smoke and pine. As she stepped into the courtyard, the low hum of morning activity reached her ears. But something was off, no clatter of weapons, no groups of guards stretching and warming up on the training grounds. The usual echo of shouted commands and pounding feet was absent.

She adjusted her stride toward the path leading to the training field, her boots crunching on the pathway. She barely made it ten steps before a tall figure blocked her path.

Orion.

He was dressed simply, in a dark tunic that somehow still carried the weight of authority. His expression, as always, was sharp and assessing. His gaze flicked down to her clothes and then back to her face, one brow rising.

"And where exactly are you going, dressed like that?" he asked, voice flat but laced with curiosity.

Sophia tilted her chin, matching his stare. "Running," she said. "Obviously."

"No one’s at the training grounds."

She frowned. "Why not?"

He folded his arms across his chest. "Because it’s the Festival of the Fallen."

"Oh," she said.

"Most of the pack will be at the outer shrine this morning," he continued, "leaving offerings and prayers for their families. The main festival happens at night, but this is when it starts."

"I know what the festival is," she said quietly. Her voice softened. "It’s... dedicated to the ones you lost during the enclave, isn’t it?"

Orion’s jaw tightened, but he nodded once. "Yes."

She glanced past him toward the empty training fields. "So there’s nothing to do today?" She asked him.

"Except enjoy the festival and pray for those we’ve lost." He told her with a nod.

Just then, someone called out to him, "Alpha Orion!"

They both turned. Rita was running toward them, her hair flying behind her, face streaked with tears. Her apron was still on, smudged with something dark at the edges. She stumbled to a halt in front of Orion, gasping for air.

"She...she..." Rita’s voice broke. She pressed her hands to her mouth, then tried again. "Zena. She’s not...she’s not moving. She’s gone."

Sophia froze. Just hearing that name was like someone had poured her a bucket of ice water.

Rita’s words tumbled out in a rush. "Last night she told me she wouldn’t be here, but she always says things like that, you know? I didn’t think she meant it. She...she asked me who I was again, and she kept saying she was going to meet her children and I just..." Rita’s breath hitched. "I didn’t listen. I thought she was just tired."

Sophia’s pulse roared in her ears.

’Who are you again?’

’I wouldn’t be here tomorrow.’

The exact words from her dream.

"Who is she, this...Zena?" Sophia asked sharply, turning to Orion.

He looked at her in surprise. "Zena was one of our oldest, after Caspian. She had a medical condition. She always forgot everyone around her but she’d been a bit stable for months."

Sophia stared at Rita. "She told you she was going to meet her children?"

"Yes," Rita said, sniffling. "Just like she always says. But this time she’s just lying there, she’s not waking up..."

Orion held up a hand. "Calm down," he said firmly. His voice softened a little. "Take a breath. Show me."

Rita nodded rapidly, wiping at her cheeks.

Sophia swallowed hard. "I’m coming with you," she said.

Orion shot her a look. His frown was deep enough to cut stone. "Sophia..."

"Please," she said.

He hesitated, then gave a single sharp nod. "Alright then, if you can cope with seeing a dead body then stay behind me." 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

They moved quickly, Rita leading the way through winding paths between the houses. Sophia kept pace, her heart hammering. Every step felt heavier, as if she were walking into her own dream.

Rita pushed open a wooden door and hurried inside. Orion followed, his shoulders filling the frame. Sophia stepped in last, the air hitting her like a wall.

It was the same room. It was like deja Vu. What the hell?

The same jar of water was on the table, the same cup beside it. The same blanket pulled up to the old woman’s chest. And the old woman, Zena lay there exactly as she had in Sophia’s dream, her face slack and pale, gray hair spilling from its braid onto the pillow.

Sophia’s breath caught. The floor tilted under her feet.

She had never been here before. And yet she had.

The sense of déjà vu was so strong she had to grip the doorframe. She watched Orion kneel by the bed, his large hand covering Zena’s frail one. Rita stood on the other side, whispering her name.

Sophia couldn’t stay. She backed out of the room, her heart pounding against her ribs like a trapped animal. She stumbled outside the room and pressed herself against the wall, trying to breathe.

It wasn’t just a dream.

It couldn’t be.

Her palms were cold, slick with sweat. She slid down until she was crouching, head between her knees, eyes squeezed shut. But no matter how hard she tried, the images didn’t fade. It was real. It happened. Zena was dead.

She had dreamt of this and it happened?