I can’t begin to explain the darkness I’m submerged in. This unimaginable and endless darkness. I can see literally nothing; on occasion, the clouds seem to move just enough the moon—what little there is of it—creates shadows and silhouettes. The best I can tell is, I’m in a cave—or ruin—of some sort; made evident from the cold stone walls I keep running into. I have no idea how long I’ve been here, but it feels like it’s been awhile. The first thing I can remember is waking up here—wherever here is—and I haven’t seen daylight since; the moon never changes. I tried staying put for a while, hoping someone would find me eventually; then I realized I didn’t remember having anyone to miss me. In fact, I can’t remember anything beyond waking up; not where I’ve been or anyone I might know. It’s a weird void; and I’m oddly comfortable with it.