As I blinked awake, groggy and disoriented, I struggled to sit up from the unyielding surface beneath me, knowing deep down that something monumental had shifted. The world around me seemed sharper, every color intensified, as if a filter had been removed from my vision. Faint scarlet threads, flickering like fine strands of light, trailed over random spots across the house. Through the large window in the living room, I caught a glimpse of dawn’s first light. Hours—long, draining hours—had passed as I wrestled to reclaim the memories locked away. My back should have ached, yet I felt surprisingly loose, like I’d shed a layer of weariness. That hollow void within me, the one I’d carried for as long as I could remember, had finally vanished. Once, I had wandered blindly, grasping for meanin
