Chapter 9
Under the Trance
I lie back, my eyes close, and I drift into a deep state, feeling myself slip through time toward a life that feels both strange and familiar.
The room was dim, lit only by a single candle that flickered on the low table beside the chaise lounge. Its flame cast dancing shadows across the walls, and I could smell the faint, earthy scent of sandalwood incense curling from a small brass burner. The hypnotist—a soft-spoken woman named Elara with silver-streaked hair and eyes that seemed to hold centuries—gestured for me to make myself comfortable.
I settled into the cushions, my heart beating a slow, steady rhythm against my ribs. The past weeks had been a whirlwind of whispers and half-truths, of dreams that felt more real than waking life. Now, here I was, about to slip beneath the surface of my own consciousness.
“Close your eyes,” Elara said, her voice a gentle murmur. “Let your breath become slow and deep. Feel the weight of your body sinking into the chair, into the earth beneath you.”
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