Waves slapped the side of your boat with so much vigor you thought Posidon was trying to kill you. No matter how fast or how hard you scrambled on deck, you kept slipping. You kept falling, kept tripping, kept banging your head against the floor. But something in your soul told you not to give. To do the undoable and stay afloat. Even as you crawled up the stairs, blood trickling from the wounds on your arms, you kept going up to the wheel. And once you were there, you stood on shaking legs and grabbed it. At that moment, the world stood still. The rain seemed to slow, the world seemed to stop. When you looked to the sky, through the clouds, you saw it. A giant, icy eye, peering down at you like a test subject. Before you could do any more, lightning struck the top of your boat, right behind you. And your vision went black.

When you wake, all you feel is cold, hard, metal under you. The cold is relieving on your aching bones and strained muscles, but it also makes you shiver. Water still clings to your body from the storm, but the rest of the world seems to be dry. You lift your head to find the strangest, yet most beautiful sight. A sprawling room of tubes, spiraling up and up towards the ceiling, which looks to be miles away. Ladders and stairways and platforms, all in black titanium, snake around these tubes. It’s too far away to see what’s inside most, but some have water, some have grass, and some have sand. All you can assume is that you’re dead.

If that’s true, the woman in front of you must be the reaper. She’s cloaked in a black trench coat that falls to her feet. You can see she’s wearing boots, but everything else is hidden. Her hair falls over one shoulder, golden and wavy. Her skin is pale, like she’s never seen the light of day, but her lips are painted a dusty rose that pops against it. It even makes the cool room look warmer. Just a bit. She keeps her head up, looking down at you.

“Hello.” She greets, her voice both soothing and unsettling. It echoes through the room just slightly.