Ezmerel awoke in darkness. Something felt out of place, somehow the world had changed. He was in his bed. He sat up and swung his feet to the floor. Movement felt strange, awkward, as if his skin were tenser and his body denser than before. He turned on the light and looked in the mirror, shocked by his reflection. It was him, but there was something unfamiliar, the light in his eyes, the set of his brow. As he glared at himself his forgotten life began swirling in his thoughts, the subconscious remembrance inspired by Dr. Vonnegut was rising up to his conscious mind. He realized the absence of fear and guilt, he felt the strength with which they were replaced. But the anger still burned. His thoughts turned to the Empire, he looked at his bandaged hands, thought of his parents, his wife, his life. His anger rose but he kept it in check, he could control it now, give it focus. He could sense how close he was to revenge, freedom, and he was no longer afraid to claim them.
He looked deep into his reflection
