There was no soft, fading light at the end of a tunnel. No comforting warmth. I opened my eyes to a world of shadows, and as my mind clicked into place, I realised I was dead; staring at the threshold to the Underworld. Hesitantly, I looked down at my once flesh covered hands, to see only my pale, skeletal remains staring back at me. If I still had a heart, it would be beating out of my now hollow chest. A figure approached from the horizon, its shape barely visible in the dim, ghostly light. I felt an icy shiver crawl down my spine as the figure grew closer, its face hidden in shadow, but I knew it was not here to offer comfort. As it drew near, the air around me seemed to grow colder. I could make out the silhouette now; tall and cloaked in tattered robes. The figure drew its decaying finger towards me, beckoning me forward. As if in a trance, I found myself moving towards this petrifying yet intriguing entity like a moth to a flame. I followed the figure until we reached the edge of a dark, still river. The waters were as black as the void, swirling with an eerie calm that reflected nothing but an endless night.

A boat appeared, a vessel that seemed to spawn from the darkness itself, its wooden frame worn with age, its sails tattered and torn. Still being guided by this mysterious figure, I cautiously stepped onto the boat, prepared to sail across the endless, watery passageway. Skeletal hands reached up towards me, attempting to claw me down to the dark depths below. They whispered ghostly promises to me, their voices strangely comforting. Without a thought, I leapt out the boat and plummeted into the murky waters.