Chapter 223

Chapter 223
Elena’s POV
The hospital lights were too bright. They made my head hurt worse. I sat on the examination table while Dominic paced back and forth like he always did when he was worried.
"Mrs. Lucchesi," Dr. Harrison said, looking at my test results again. "Everything looks normal. Your blood work is fine. The brain scans are clear. All your tests came back normal."
"But something's wrong," Dominic said. "She's having memory problems. They're getting worse every day."
I rubbed my temples. The headache never went away anymore. "Doctor, I know something's happening to me. This isn't just normal forgetfulness."
Dr. Harrison nodded, but I could tell he didn't really understand. "Memory issues can happen for lots of reasons. Stress, not sleeping enough, everything you've been through lately..."
"This is different," I said. Yesterday I forgot Alexander's whole feeding schedule. This morning I looked at Dominic and couldn't remember why he seemed familiar.
The drive home was quiet. Dominic gripped the steering wheel tight, his jaw clenched. I watched our neighborhood go by outside the window. Everything looked strange, like I was seeing it for the first time.
"Elena," Dominic said as we pulled into our driveway. "We'll figure this out. Whatever's happening—"
"Will we?" I turned to look at him. "What if this gets worse? What if I forget you? Forget Alexander?"
He reached over and took my hands. "That won't happen. I won't let it happen."
The next few days were a blur. Simple conversations became hard. I'd be talking and suddenly forget what I was saying. Alexander would cry at night, and I'd stand in his nursery trying to remember if I'd already fed him.
Maya noticed first. She'd been checking on us every day since I collapsed. She found me standing in the kitchen, staring at Alexander's bottle.
"Elena?" she said. "How long have you been standing here?"
The question hit me like cold water. How long had I been standing there? The bottle in my hands was cold, but I thought I'd just taken it from the warmer.
"I don't know," I said quietly. "I was making Alexander's bottle, and then..."
"Then what?"
"I don't remember. I can't remember if I fed him already or if I was about to. I don't know what time it is."
Maya looked worried. "Elena, when did you last eat? You look pale."
When had I last eaten? I tried to remember and found nothing.
"I don't know," I said again.

When Jonathan came home that afternoon, I almost cried with relief. He'd been in London for a week on Council business. Seeing his face felt like finding something solid to hold onto.
"Elena," he said, walking over to where I sat with Alexander. "Maya called. She's worried about you."
"Jonathan." I stood up carefully. "Something's wrong with me. The doctors can't find anything, but I know something's wrong."
He looked at me with his doctor eyes, taking in how pale I was, the dark circles under my eyes. "Tell me everything that's been happening."
So I did. I told him about forgetting conversations right after having them. About losing time. About looking at Dominic yesterday and feeling panic because I couldn't remember if we were married or divorced.
Jonathan listened carefully. When I finished, he was quiet for a long time.
"Elena, I want to do some simple tests. Nothing painful, just checking how your mind is working. Is that okay?"
I nodded, even though the idea scared me.
He checked my eyes with a small light. Asked me to follow his finger. Tested my reflexes. Everything was normal, just like at the hospital. But then he started asking me to remember things—lists of words, numbers, what I did that morning.
That's when it happened.
I was trying to remember what I ate for breakfast when everything just... stopped. I could still hear Alexander making baby noises. Could still see Jonathan's worried face. But my mind went completely blank.
I couldn't remember where I was. Couldn't remember why this man was staring at me. Couldn't remember what we were talking about.
"I..." I started to speak, but the words felt wrong. "I don't... where am I?"
Jonathan's face changed immediately. "Elena, you're in your living room. I'm Jonathan. Do you remember me?"
I stared at him. This stranger with kind eyes who seemed to know me. "Should I?"
"Elena." His voice was gentle but urgent. "Look around. This is your home. That's your son, Alexander."
I looked at the baby he pointed to. A beautiful child with dark hair and green eyes. He seemed familiar, made me feel protective and warm, but I couldn't remember why.
"I don't understand," I whispered. "I don't remember any of this."
Jonathan moved slowly, like he was afraid of scaring me. "Elena, what's the last thing you remember clearly?"
I tried to think and found only pieces—images that didn't make sense, feelings without reasons. "I remember... college? No, that's not right. I remember someone being angry. Being afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
"I don't know." Panic was building in my chest. "I don't know anything. Who are you? Why are you here? What's wrong with me?"
Jonathan looked around the room, noticing things I hadn't seen—strange symbols near the windows, the way the light looked odd in some corners.
"Elena," he said carefully, "I think this is more than a medical problem."
"What do you mean?"
"Your symptoms—the way you're losing memories, how it's getting worse, the fact that all your medical tests are normal—this isn't like any brain condition I know." He paused. "But it is like certain types of supernatural attacks."
The word 'supernatural' should have sounded crazy. But instead, it felt right, like some part of me understood.
"Magic," I said.
"Yes. Magic that's targeting your memories, trying to erase your recent past." Jonathan looked grim. "Someone is doing this to you on purpose."
Before I could respond, the front door opened. "Elena? Jonathan?" a voice called out.
The sound of that voice hit me like a wave. Relief, comfort, love so deep it took my breath away. I knew this voice belonged to someone important. But when he appeared in the doorway—tall, dark-haired, with green eyes—I couldn't place him.
"Elena?" He looked at my face and immediately turned to Jonathan. "What's wrong? What happened?"
"She had another episode," Jonathan said quietly. "Dominic, I think someone is using magic to steal her memories."
The man's—Dominic's—expression went dark. For a moment, something dangerous flashed in his eyes. Something not entirely human. "How long?"
"A few minutes this time. But it's getting worse."
I watched these two men talk about me like they knew things I didn't. The baby was reaching toward Dominic with obvious love.
"Am I his mother?" I asked.
Both men looked at me with pain that cut through my confusion.
"Yes," Dominic said softly. "You're Alexander's mother. And I'm your husband."
Husband. The word should have meant something. Should have brought back memories. Instead, it just sat in my mind like something I couldn't identify.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, "I'm sorry, but I don't remember you."

Jonathan called Maya right away. 
Maya showed up within an hour. The moment she walked in, the air felt different. She looked at me and her face went dark with anger.
"Magical memory suppression," she said. "Sophisticated, targeted, and getting stronger."
"Can you tell who's doing it?" Jonathan asked.
Maya walked around the room, her hands glowing faintly as she traced patterns I couldn't see. "Whoever it is, they're really good. This isn't amateur work—this is someone with serious power who knows Elena's magical signature."
"My magical signature?" I said. "I'm not magical. I'm just... normal."
Maya turned to me, looking frustrated and sad. "Elena, you're a witch. A powerful one. Your abilities awakened recently, and you've been learning to control them. The fact that you don't remember any of this is exactly what makes this attack so evil."
Witch. The word should have sounded impossible, but it felt true. Some part of me that wasn't affected by whatever was stealing my memories knew she was right.
"Show me," I said suddenly. "If I'm really a witch, prove it."
Maya looked uncertain. "Elena, using magic while your mind is like this could be dangerous—"
"More dangerous than losing myself completely?" I stood up, feeling something burning in my chest. "If magic is what I've lost, maybe magic can help me remember."
After a long moment, Maya nodded. "Okay. But we start small."
She had me stand in the center of the room, hands up, palms facing the ceiling. "Think about light," she said gently. "Not just the idea of light, but how it feels. Warm on your skin, pushing away darkness."
I closed my eyes and reached for that feeling. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, I felt warmth in my chest that spread down my arms to my hands.
When I opened my eyes, soft silver light was dancing between my fingers.
My body remembered this even if my mind didn't. This power belonged to me. It felt as fundamental as breathing.
"There you are," Maya said softly, and I could hear relief in her voice. "Your magic isn't gone, Elena. It's still there, even if you can't remember learning to use it."
But as the light faded, so did the clarity. The confusion crashed back over me, leaving me lost again.
"What's happening to me?" I whispered.
Jonathan moved closer. "Someone is systematically erasing your recent memories—everything from the past few months that connects you to your magical abilities, to your relationship with Dominic, to understanding the supernatural world."
"But why?"
"Because," Dominic said grimly, "someone wants you helpless. They want you cut off from the people who can protect you, stripped of the knowledge that would help you defend yourself."
Maya's face was getting darker. "This level of magical manipulation requires constant contact with the target. Whoever is doing this is close, Dominic. Very close."
"We need to figure out who," Jonathan said. "Before Elena loses everything."