He was in the place again. The same place he found himself every night since Ace died.

His hands were chained down to the pristine white ground, and no matter how hard he tried to break free the chains wouldn't budge.

But none of that was as bad as what was always in front of him.

Ace laying a few feet ahead of him. A large, perfectly circular hole where his organs should be.

"A—Ace—" he would try to call out, only to find his throat clogged with sea water.