Spellbound

The full moon hung like a spotlight over a stage where something very personal was unfolding - with shadows, smoke, and a burst of sparks. The air is ringing with silence, and it seems even the stars have paused to not disturb this quiet rebirth. Inside, it's poison and light at the same time: pain that burns at first, then cleanses. When everything around you collapses, and then suddenly becomes beautiful precisely because nothing else is left. Each chord is like a step through your own hell, with black skies overhead and red tears under your feet. But by the end, you suddenly realise: you're flying. Not because it got easier, but because you now know the value of hardship.