Nothing remained. Darkness consumed everything; an endless expanse stretching like an ocean of ink. My thoughts unraveled, slipping away like quiet words lost in a storm, fragments of what once defined me. Memories flickered and faded—a laugh, a touch, a promise—turning to ash, drifting into the void. I was hollow, an empty vessel stripped of everything that made me human.

I floated, weightless, suspended in the sea of black water. Time, self, everything had dissolved. There was only the dark—endless, all-consuming, cold.

But the dark was not empty. It seethed, alive with voices—whispers that began as soft murmurs, gathering force, growing into a deafening roar. Faces emerged from the black, twisting, writhing—pale, hollow-eyed specters clawing at me, their fingers stretching, tearing, pulling me under. Shapes took form from the void, monstrous and grotesque, demons dredged from Dante's deepest nightmares. Their mouths twisted in endless, silent screams, their vacant eyes fixed on me, burning with a hunger I couldn't understand.

They wanted everything—every scrap of memory, every piece of soul I had left. Clawed hands clamped around my ankles, my wrists, pulling me deeper, nails digging into my flesh, breaking the skin. I thrashed against them, but the more I fought, the more they multiplied, encircling me like an unstoppable tide of shadows.

I kicked and twisted as black water filled my mouth, choking me. The cold seeped into my bones until I was numb, until all I felt was the relentless pull dragging me down.

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I screamed, but no sound escaped—only bubbles rising, bursting into nothing as the dark closed in. Pain seared through my chest, my lungs aflame, desperate for air. I clawed at the void, at the hands, feeling my strength ebbing, my will fracturing.

And then—a light. A flicker against the ink. A warmth in a universe devoid of warmth.

Sarah.

Her face was untouched by the darkness, soft and radiant. She stood before me, her small hand reaching out. Her eyes—so bright, so clear—locked onto mine, piercing through the hollow shell of what was left of me. A calm smile touched her lips, a serenity that felt impossible here, in this place.

"Let it in," she whispered, her voice clear in the chaos. "It's okay, Dad. Just breathe."

The words echoed, rippling through the void, shattering the silence that had cocooned me. I wanted to speak, to answer, but my voice was gone. There was only her, and those words, repeating, unraveling the fight inside me until all that was left was surrender.

I let the darkness in.

I breathed in, and the black water rushed into me, filling every hollow, every corner. It was cold, all-consuming, but I didn't fight it. I couldn't. Sarah's eyes held mine, patient, knowing. My chest expanded, the pressure building until I thought I would burst—but there was no pain. Only emptiness, cold and clean, a finality that almost felt like peace.

For the first time, I stopped struggling. I let it all go—the fear, the rage, the pain—and let the darkness become part of me. It wasn't the enemy; it was just the end.

And I started to breathe—deep, slow—taking the liquid black into my lungs, into every inch of me. I accepted it, and breathed deeper, until the water became my world and my world... the black.