Klaus opened his eyes, but the world around him was little more than a blur, a muddled haze of colors and shapes. His eyelids felt heavy, as though weighed down by an unseen force. Blinking several times, he tried to clear his vision, but it only sharpened slightly, the fog still thick in his mind. There was an eerie stillness in the room, broken only by the distant sound of his own shallow breathing.
He was in his bed.
How did he get here?
A dull throb pounded at his temples, and his body ached in ways he couldn't explain. The sensation was foreign, like he'd been thrown into his own skin without fully inhabiting it. Sitting up slowly, Klaus glanced toward the window. The faintest slivers of light began creeping over the horizon, signaling the approach of dawn. The sky was still dark, but the hint of sunlight on the edge of the world made everything feel more surreal, as if he'd woken at the edge of a dream.
