My body feels weightless, suspended in a vast, suffocating darkness that presses in from every side. I turn my head slowly, scanning the void, searching for anything familiar. But there's nothing—just an endless, silent emptiness. Beneath me, I feel cold water lapping at my skin, gentle at first, then more insistent.
Where am I?
I try to move, but my limbs feel distant, disconnected, as if they belong to someone else.
My lips are dry, cracked, and when I finally manage to speak, my voice comes out thin and fragile, swallowed instantly by the emptiness around me.
"Is anyone here?"
My voice echoes back to me, hollow and distorted, bouncing off walls I cannot see. The sound fades into the vast emptiness, leaving me alone with the cold and the silence.
Then I see it—a sliver of light in the distance, small at first, then growing wider, like a door opening. And someone is standing there, silhouetted against the glow.
I blink, struggling to focus, and slowly, the features sharpen.
