The darkness swallowed me whole. It was quiet and heavy, but not crushing. I floated, not sure if I was going up or down.

The golden thread was gone.

Panic hit me, cold and sharp. My guide had vanished. I reached out, fingers grasping at nothing. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, the emptiness mocking me.

A flicker of light appeared. A tiny orb, no bigger than a candle flame, floated ahead. It pulsed softly. Warm. Inviting.

I reached for it, but it moved away, just out of reach.

“Follow,” a voice whispered.

I hesitated. The light pulsed again. Something inside me stirred.

I moved, feeling weightless. My focus locked on the tiny orb. It sensed me, glowing brighter as I drew closer.

The darkness shifted.

Shapes began to form, shadows twisting into images. A face appeared. Mine. Angry. Eyes narrowed.

Another shadow followed, laughing at me. More came, until I was surrounded by scenes from my life. Anger when I failed. Shame when judged. The self-doubt that kept me awake. Memories played out like a chaotic movie, each one pulling at me.

The light grew dim as my focus shifted away from it.

“Where is your attention?” the voice whispered.

I froze. The question hung in the air, simple but powerful.

My eyes darted back to the light, now just a tiny spark, struggling against the chaos.

I took a shaky breath. “On... this,” I said, pointing at the swirling shadows.

The voice was silent. But the chaos grew louder, more demanding. Shadows clawed at my mind, whispers turning into screams.

“Where is your attention?” the voice asked again, stronger.

I forced my gaze to the light. It glowed brighter, like it was responding. The chaos dulled, the voices fading. I took a step forward, then another, my focus on the light.

The shadows pulled back, but then the light stopped. The darkness rippled, and new scenes surrounded me. Not my past, but the world around me.

A crowd cheered. A storm raged. Faces of strangers appeared, eyes full of judgment. Somewhere, a clock ticked, counting down.

I was pulled in every direction. Toward the cheers, the storm, the ticking clock. Each one grabbed at my focus, invisible strings pulling me apart. My head spun, the light dimming again.

“Where is your attention?” the voice cut through the chaos like a knife.

This time, the question hit me harder. My breath caught. I realized the truth: I wasn’t in control. My attention was being dragged by whatever called the loudest. Memories, fears, noise.

I clenched my fists. “I don’t know!” I shouted. “I don’t know how to hold it!”

The voice softened. “Then find the place where it rests.”

The place where it rests?

I looked at the light, shaking in the chaos. The storm of shadows and images swirled violently.

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The voice’s question stayed with me. Where does my attention rest?

I closed my eyes, desperate for an answer. The storm raged louder. My thoughts raced. Memories, fears, doubts. The outside world clawed at me. Sounds, images, distractions.

But I paused. I listened. Not to the noise, but to something else. A faint feeling, like a thread pulled tight.

“Where am I?” I whispered, the question as much for myself as for the voice.

Then I noticed it. A space between. Not my thoughts or the outside world. It was a gap in between the two. A still point. The Awareness Point.

I focused on it, slowly at first. The storm dulled, sensing my shift. My racing thoughts softened, their grip loosening.

The Awareness Point felt small. Fragile. But it was real. The more I noticed it, the steadier it felt. Like finding calm in a hurricane.

The light flared softly, its warmth pulling me closer. Suddenly, I understood. The light wasn’t just my attention. It was the key to control. It wasn’t meant to be lost in my thoughts or dragged by the outside world. It was supposed to rest here, in between.

“Where is your attention?” the voice asked, sharper now.

I blinked, startled. My focus had drifted. Instantly, the Awareness Point flickered, and the storm surged.

I panicked, reaching for the ball of light. “How do I keep it here?”

The voice spoke, softer now. “Ask yourself.”

I frowned. “Ask what?”

The light pulsed. “Where is my attention?”

I inhaled sharply. Of course. Every time I had lost control, it was because I forgot to notice where my focus was. Dragged by thoughts or scattered by noise.

The light dimmed slightly, inviting me to test it.

I let my attention wander, on purpose. Thoughts surged. Doubts, fears, “what ifs.” The world outside roared. Bright lights, bursts of noise.

But I caught myself and asked the question.

Where is my attention?

I felt the pull of the Awareness Point, like a magnet drawing me back. The storm quieted and balance returned.

The power of the question hit me. This wasn’t about fighting chaos. It was about returning to the center, over and over, until it became a habit.

I practiced. Each time my attention strayed, I brought it back by asking the question.

Where is my attention?

With each repetition, it got easier. The Awareness Point grew brighter. The storm faded. Not because it was gone, but because it had no power over me.

The light glowed warmly now, steady and strong.

The voice spoke, gentle but firm. “Control your attention, and you control reality.”

I understood now. The chaos wasn’t my enemy. It was my lack of control. The question gave me power.

“Where is my attention?” I asked aloud. I smiled. I wasn’t at the mercy of the storm. I never had been.

“I’m here,” I said. The light surged, leaving me standing in a world more vivid and alive than ever. Everything pulsed with life. Every breath was a miracle.

I stood still, savoring the clarity. The world sparkled, details blurring into streaks of gold.

A familiar warmth settled over me. The void gave way to solid ground.

I blinked, finding myself back in the dark forest. The campfire glowed in the distance, its orange light a beacon. The old man sat beside it, his staff resting on his shoulder.

I walked over, my steps steady.

He didn’t speak, just watched as I stopped a few steps away.

I clenched my fist, the feeling of the light still fresh. “My attention… is mine. Where I put it... that changes everything. It doesn’t belong to my thoughts or the distractions of the outside world. It’s mine to control.”

The old man smiled. He motioned for me to sit.

I lowered myself to the ground. The warmth of the fire chased away the chill.

The old man tapped his staff lightly, glowing symbols spreading out. “Let’s review. Step by step.”

He pointed to the first symbol, a spinning wheel with sharp edges. “Attention is your greatest power. If you don’t control it, others will. And they’ll decide what you think, what you do, and who you become.”

The old man waved his hand. The second symbol appeared. A mirror. “Constantly ask the question: ‘Where is my attention?’ It brings you to the present, to the Awareness Point, where your power lies.”

He touched the mirror with his staff. It shattered, scattering like stars. In its place appeared a glowing ball. “Return to the Awareness Point. Again and again. You will lose focus. You will get pulled into the chaos. That is not failure. It is practice. Each time you return to the center, you grow stronger.”

The glowing orb brightened.

The old man leaned closer, eyes shining like embers. “If you do this, you are no longer a slave to the thoughts in your head or the distractions outside.”

I nodded, the lesson sinking in like roots digging into the earth.

The old man’s gaze was calm but firm. “You’ve untied the second knot of illusion. Are you ready for the final trial?”

I met his eyes, my breath catching. “I’m ready.”

The forest darkened around us, the fire shrinking to embers. The air thickened, humming with tension. The golden thread reappeared around my wrist, pulsing.

“What do I do?” I asked.

The old man tilted his head. “You don’t need to do anything. You need to allow.” His words hung in the air, undeniable.

Before I could respond, the golden thread pulled tight, yanking me back into the gate.

The old man’s final words echoed through the void, wrapping around me like a riddle: “Step into it. The rest will follow.”

The darkness surged, swallowing everything.