It was the solemn swell of a classic melody drifting from the radio that pulled him back. Soft, unhurried… almost mournful. It didn’t just wake him—it reached in and tugged at him like invisible fingers, hauling him out of a dark, airless place.

He’d missed music.

Yet his body felt like stone. Heavy, stiff, as if it had been locked in ice for years. Every breath was work, his throat a parched desert, and the simple act of swallowing seemed like a dangerous gamble.

Still, he forced his eyes open. The lids resisted, weighted with exhaustion, and when they finally gave way, pain lanced through his skull, spreading through his...