Anastasia's pov
Zahir's study was starting to feel both cozy and familiar to me. The walls were lined with shelves filled with ancient books, their worn spines telling tales of forgotten times. The scent of aged parchment and incense hung in the air, creating a mystical atmosphere that seemed to invite introspection and the quest for wisdom. The soft light from the chandeliers flickered in the shadows, casting dancing patterns over the richly decorated rugs that covered the floor.
Seated in a plush green velvet armchair, my mind kept replaying the horrors I had witnessed on the battlefield. The memories were like persistent ghosts, reminding me that my dream had indeed been a vision of the future, a portent of what had already occurred. Images of chaos, death, and despair unfolded in my mind, and I felt the urgency of the situation intensifying with each passing moment.