Days passed, and life slowly returned to normal for Chen Li. He moved back into his apartment, but things were different now. The air no longer felt heavy, the shadows no longer seemed to move, and the eerie whispers that had haunted his nights were gone.
The painting, the one that had started it all, was nothing but ashes now. Chen Li had burned it down to its very last piece, leaving no trace of the Wraith or the nightmare that had consumed him. It was as though the figure had never existed.
And perhaps, in some way, it hadn't. Perhaps the Wraith had only ever been a manifestation of Chen Li's own fears, brought to life by the darkest corners of his mind. But whatever it had been, it was gone now, and Chen Li was free to start anew.
He picked up his paintbrush again, for the first time in weeks, and began to create something new. This time, there were no dark forests, no twisted trees or shadowy figures. This time, his canvas was filled with light—bright, vivid colors that spoke of hope and renewal.
As he painted, Chen Li couldn't help but smile. He had faced his fears, confronted the darkness within him, and come out stronger on the other side.
For the first time in a long time, Chen Li felt like himself again.