Chapter Five

W ater filled her lungs as she struggled to break free. She screamed and swung her arms at her attacker, but just like always, her body went limp, and darkness overcame her for what felt like a thousand years. Then, his face swam before her. Brown hair and blue eyes, like always. "Callum!" She reached for him, hoping this time he'd not slip through her desperate fingers. But just like he did every time, he vanished.

Her alarm rang beside her ear, and Sophia sat up in bed with a gasp. Sweat covered her body, making her cotton pajama pants stick to her thighs and her hair cling to her nape.

Ever since her near-death experience nine weeks ago, the same dream had plagued Sophia, leaving her empty and aching for something she couldn't place. A man with a familiar face and name but nothing more. And the heaviness of water flooding her lungs still weighed her down. Were dreams meant to feel this visceral?

She'd spoken to her therapist about the dream, but so far, Sophia couldn't unlock what buried trauma her therapist believed resided in her subconscious. Aside from the reoccurring dreams, she'd been getting glimpses of a time long ago and faces of people she felt like she knew. She had all her memories, yet it seemed she had many more that belonged entirely to someone else. Was that even possible?

According to the doctors, she'd died the night of her accident. Her heart had stopped beating. Her lungs had stopped breathing. Her brain had stopped synapsing. Sophia's death was called at 11:59 p.m. on October 31st. Though she'd heard of out-of-body experiences, she'd never believed in such things. But Sophia had floated above herself, watching as they covered her with a white sheet. Peace had washed over her as bright white light warmed her with a comforting embrace. A voice called to her, telling her it was time to go home, and promised that everything would be as it was meant to be.

Then, Sophia had come to life with a gasp just before they wheeled her body down to the morgue. Doctors, nurses, and staff ran around in a frenzy, calling for help as machines began beeping again.

"She came back to life at midnight, exactly!" one of the nurses said to a doctor, who ran over to shine a light in her eyes.

"Incredible," he muttered. "She was dead."

"Well, she isnae dead now!" a nurse said in a shaky voice. "Get the neurologist!"

"Callum," Sophia had croaked in a weak voice, making the doctor frown in confusion.

Callum . The name had been the first thought that whispered in her mind when she returned to life. But who was Callum?

From that day forward, these dreams had consumed her, almost glimpses of a past life through someone else's eyes. She could vaguely recall a man named Callum, even though she'd never met him. Her family and therapist had decided it was a side effect of her trauma, perhaps a coping mechanism to replace the memory of the crash, which remained hazy in her mind.

But Sophia knew there was more to it, somehow.

The first day of her new archaeology program had arrived, and despite her life-altering accident and her parents' encouragement to return home, Sophia was determined to stay the course. Her future awaited, shining brighter than ever. More than anything, she treasured every new breath she took. Life was fragile, but she was stronger than ever.

Sophia showered and slipped on a pair of dark blue skinny jeans, a purple, cable-knit sweater, and brown boots before grabbing her book bag and looking into the mirror. Her hazel eyes shone with excitement, and she tucked her wild red waves of hair behind her ear, a gift from her Scottish grandmother—Sophia's inspiration to return to her highland roots and study the past.

The University of Aberdeen was only fifteen minutes from her new flat, and though the early January air was frigid, and she required a puffy coat and beanie to keep warm, she enjoyed the walk to the first class of her new life. Her professor, Samuel Sullivan, was a world-famous archaeologist who'd recently discovered the first written records of the Pictish people. He'd translated it with his wife, and together, they traveled for book signings and lectures. She was beyond grateful to have been accepted into this prestigious program. More importantly, she did it independently even though her aunt Thelma had worked closely with him at the Burghead Visitor Centre. Sophia knew that this was the beginning of a new life for her.

Wisps of breath drifted from her lips as she walked onto campus, and Sophia looked around in awe at the ancient building with bright red foliage climbing up its stone walls. She had survived that awful accident for a reason, and this was it. Whatever her future held, it would come to fruition here. Never had she felt a greater connection to anything. She'd heard about Americans feeling an odd connection to their ancestral lands, but Sophia knew, deep in her bones, that she belonged here, maybe even lived in Scotland in a past life.

Callum. The name whispered in her mind again. Callum. Who was Callum? Why did that name keep running through her head, and why did it make her insides ache with a sense of loss and longing? It was as if she'd lost something—no, some one —dear to her heart, yet she hadn't a clue who Callum was. Blue eyes and brown hair swam through her mind again, much like in her dreams.

Students rushed by from every direction, likely just as anxious to start the new Winter term as she was. As excited as Sophia was to start her new journey, a sense of panic began to wash over her. "Oh, no…" she whispered as the feeling of being held underwater and slowly drowning transported her back to her traumatic accident and subsequent death. It was as if she'd died twice. Once from the car accident and once from drowning—which was impossible, for there hadn't been any water near the crash site.

Gripping her aching temples, Sophia closed her eyes and tried to drown out the chatter around her, focusing on her breathing. "You're not dead. You're not drowning," she whispered to herself. She had to get a grip. Now was not the time for another episode.

Callum.

Shaking her head and gritting her teeth against the surmounting pulsing pain, Sophia opened her eyes and took a few steps on the slick cobblestones, yelping when she barreled into someone. Familiar blue eyes stared down at her, making her suddenly lose her balance. Her feet slipped from beneath her, but his arms gripped hers to hold her upright.

Callum. The pesky inner voice spoke.

"S-Sorcha?" The man looked at her with a mixture of pain, hope, and horror.

That name… she knew that name. Looking up, she saw him, and if her brain had stopped synapsing when she died, it made up for it now as thousands of electrical pulses sparked in her head. A tunnel opened in her mind's eye, flooding her with images, voices, and memories that were not hers—yet they were hers entirely.

"Callum?" She gripped his arm when the sensations overwhelmed her, and he guided her toward a bench away from prying eyes and swiftly moving bodies. Class was starting, and within minutes, the courtyard was nearly empty.

"It's you," she whispered. "I… I know you."

"Aye. Ye know me. How… I dinnae understand. How are ye here?" He looked her up and down, frowning, when he saw a small scar on her forehead from her accident. She touched it and wondered how she could be two women at once. She was Sophia. She had Sophia's memories and personality, but she also was Sorcha. She remembered it all now. It was as if running into Callum had knocked the cobwebs off some repressed memories.

Images of being drowned flashed in her mind, and she gripped the collar of Callum's brown coat as panic overwhelmed her. "Queen Caitriona! Her sister, Emilie! He was coming for them next! Callum! Ye must warn them! How am I here? I… I dinnae ken what is happening!" When her American accent began to morph into a Scottish burr, she slapped a hand over her mouth.

"They are safe, Sorcha. They are well. Murielle and Professor Sullivan have verified that the man who drowned ye was captured before he hurt anyone else."

She shook her head as tears swam in her eyes. "I am Sophia Nelson. I am from San Francisco. But I am also Sorcha Mac Bielich from Pinnata Castra. Callum, what is happening?" She shook with fear, and he silently held her, rubbing her back and doing his best to comfort her as she broke down into tears. "I dinnae ken who I am! Why do I remember ye in the basement? I remember us… us…" Sophia looked up at him and remembered everything, especially their night of lovemaking on the basement floor of a visitor center that now resided where her home once stood.

Callum made calming shushing noises and took her hands. The instant their skin touched, waves of white light pulsed through his fingertips, and glimpses of Sorcha flashed in his eyes, only it wasn't him—at least not him in this lifetime. Ronan. He was seeing her through Ronan's eyes. His stomach flipped, and his heart raced when he looked at her. Ronan had loved her. The pain twisting inside his gut told Callum that Ronan had suffered an unrequited love for Sorcha before he married Eva. Had she known this? Now, as Callum, a feeling of wholeness washed over him, and he just knew in the very depths of his soul that she was the piece of his essence that had always been missing.

"Sorcha… Sophia… I dinnae have the answers, but I think Samuel and Murielle can help." He paused, and a speculative expression crossed his face. "Wait. Yer name is Sophia Nelson? Do ye have an aunt named Thelma?"

Sophia wiped away a tear and cocked her head. "Aye…I mean… Yes !" She growled with frustration. "I have two languages competing in my head! Why did seeing you trigger Sorcha's memories? And how do ye ken… you know … my Aunt Thelma?"

"I worked with her at the Burghead Visitor Centre until I met you, or Sorcha—in the basement."

Things began to click. Wait a second… "Are you the co-worker she always tried to set me up with?"

Callum nodded, and Sophia frowned. This was all too much. She couldn't sort her emotions; worst of all, she simultaneously felt emotions from Sophia—herself—and Sorcha—who was inexplicably familiar and simultaneously mysterious.

All this time, Aunt Thelma had tried to set her up with Callum, the man Sorcha had fallen in love with. And now Sophia held all Sorcha's memories. "I cannae do this." Standing, Sophia began to walk away from the bench. She had to get to class, but how could she when in this condition? How could she concentrate?

"Wait!" Callum grabbed her hand and pulled her back toward him. "This isnae a coincidence! Ye know it isnae! Yer aunt tried to set us up for months. I was with her the day…" He paused and looked at Sophia with sadness in his blue eyes before reaching out to gently run a finger along the small scar on her forehead. "The day of yer accident. We were working together. She got the text from yer mum that ye were in the hospital here in Scotland. Thelma rushed out the door in a panic. Later that night, I met Sorcha in the basement. She was a spirit, yet she was verra much alive. I couldnae understand. I still dinnae, but things are coming together."

Sophia shook her head, the knots in her belly tightening as her anxiety increased. Chills ran up her spine as she pondered the situation and listened to Callum try to piece it together. She felt as though she were being pulled in two directions at once.

Callum's voice was like a lifeline, pulling her back to the present and tying her in place. "Sophia, what time was yer accident? Yer aunt said ye were declared dead but returned to life. Do ye know the times?"

She crinkled her brow and pulled away from him to grab her throbbing temples. "I was run off the road around nine o'clock and remember nothing until I awoke exactly at midnight on November first. The doctors said I'd died. I had no brain waves, pulse, or oxygen for nearly two minutes." She shivered when she remembered seeing herself on that metal gurney, being prepared to be toe-tagged and stuffed in a freezer. She gripped her belly when it began to roil.

"I saw myself. I floated above my body, drifted away into the light, and heard a voice assure me that I was coming home and everything would be as it should be. That's all I remember before waking. Then, the dreams of drowning began. I kept seeing you—but just your face. It appeared to me as if behind a veil. I'd wake up in a sweat calling for you, but I didn't understand who you were until just now. I'm Sorcha, but still Sophia. How?" Her knees weakened, and her vision swam. She swerved again and gripped Callum's sweater sleeve for purchase.

Callum took her arm again and walked her gently back to the bench. "Sit, please. Ye arenae well."

"How can I be well? I freaking died , Callum! I was dead! Now I'm here, and I think I'm some woman named Sorcha and see images of people and a place that appears quite old."

"1,337 years old, to be exact."

"E-excuse me?" she questioned, raising her brow. "What are ye… you talking about?"

"Does this feel familiar?" Callum reached into his coat pocket and pulled out Sorcha's silver brooch, holding it out to her.

"My brooch!" she cried, hesitating to touch it. "How do ye have it?" She wished her mind would settle on one dialect or accent, but it seemed to be switching between the two at will.

"Murielle had it. I was devastated when ye disappeared on me, Sorcha. Murielle allowed me to have yer brooch, to feel closer to ye."

He held the brooch out for her to take, but she shook her head. "I amnae ready to hold the brooch I wore when I died 1,337 years ago. I still need to process my most recent death," she murmured with a shudder rolling up her spine.

Nodding, Callum tucked the brooch away again and took her hands. "Based on what ye have told me, I have an idea what is happening, but I think we need to speak to Samuel and Murielle right away."

"As in Professor Samual Sullivan? I'm supposed to be in his lecture right now. I didnae understand until just now that Murielle's husband, Samuel, is Samuel Sullivan, my professor. How can they help us, though?"

Callum chuckled and shook his head. "Now, it really cannae be a coincidence. Ye are part of his archaeology program?"

"Yes." She explained how Thelma had encouraged her to apply, and she'd done so on her own merits.

"I am also just joining his program. Do ye recall what I told ye about Murielle traveling through the cave to live in this time with Samuel?"

She nodded. "I do. We were in the basement together. Wait. How can I have been in the hospital as Sophia on that night but have Sorcha's memories? Callum, did Sorcha's soul replace mine when I died?"

Callum didn't respond immediately, but nausea roiled in her gut when he didn't appear shocked by her question. Instead, he gently cupped her hands between his and shook his head. "I dinnae know, but it crossed my mind. Sorcha appeared to me just after Thelma received the message about yer accident. I'd never seen her before, though she claimed she always saw me."

"She did. Or rather, I did. I can see it in my memories. She tried to get yer attention and believed ye were Ronan at first, but ye didnae see her until that one night. By then, she understood that ye were Callum, though she couldnae understand how ye looked so much alike."

"And, she disappeared at midnight on November first. I went back several times afterward, but she was gone. Sophia," he said, squeezing her hands. "Ye look just like her. Ye share her memories. When yer accident happened, she appeared to me, and then she disappeared right when ye came back to life. I cannae make sense of it, but it has to be fate. How else is it that ye look like her, even if ye werenae born with her soul? It's as if ye were always meant to join with her."

"I've never heard of such a thing. It doesn't seem possible."

Callum scoffed. "I've recently come to know there is more in this world than we believe, especially around Burghead. Will ye come with me to speak to Professor Sullivan?"

Sophia nodded and, hand in hand, she walked with Callum into the building, and together, they awaited Professor Sullivan outside his office.