All was silent and pitch-black.
The cable car had gone down and hadn't come back up.
Ian Donovan gazed into the dark valley, which resembled the bottomless maw of a great beast, ready to swallow him whole.
He was soaked to the bone, so cold that his fingertips had gone numb.
Under the wash of the icy rain, Ian Donovan's eyes slowly came into focus.
'Did I really come to save Vivian Sterling?'
'Why can't I seem to remember how it happened?'
It was as if someone had guided him, leading him inexplicably to this place.
Ian Donovan moved his hand to check his pocket and found it empty. He then felt inside his jacket.
'Where is my jar of paper cranes?'
After a careful search, he found a single one in another pocket.
He cradled it in his palm. It was hard to see clearly in the dark, but it strangely gave him a sense of warmth, granting him a brief moment of mobility.
He took out his phone. 12:10.
With trembling fingers, he started to call for help.
