Then, involuntarily, his thoughts shifted inward… toward himself.
After the failed possession attempt, his memories had grown even more fractured. What little he retained now came in broken fragments—fleeting flashes of places he did not fully recognize, emotions that felt both distant and intimately familiar, and moments that did not always feel as though they belonged to him.
Sometimes, when he replayed those memories in his mind, a disturbing thought would quietly surface.
Was that truly me?
Or was it someone else?
The fog within his sea of consciousness remained thick and suffocating. It was not mere forgetfulness. No — it felt deliberate. As though something, or someone, was actively obscuring the truth.
Whenever he tried to probe deeper, to force his way through the haze and seize clarity, the fog did not thin. If anything, it only grew denser. He could feel resistance — subtle, almost intelligent. The more he searched, the more the obscurity pressed back.
