Darkness, endless darkness.
Allen felt awake. He could clearly see that he was wearing a somewhat familiar gray pajama top, with a picture of a black-haired boy wearing a straw hat and grinning broadly.
Below it were loose black-and-gray plaid shorts, and on his feet was a pair of black leather sandals.
From the sensation through his sandals, Allen knew there was a solid road beneath his feet.
But apart from that, everything around him was darkness, a darkness that stirred fear in his heart. Even the road blended into it.
Taking in his surroundings, Allen came to his senses and dared not move rashly. He habitually pushed up the glasses on his nose with his index finger and stood perfectly still.
He had no idea what state he was in. His memories still lingered in that Camp engulfed in flames, at the moment he picked up the Ring, and among those repeated calls.
Allen stood silently in the darkness for a long time, thinking just as long. Yet whatever he considered one moment vanished completely from his memory the next, leaving him unable to feel the passage of time.
Allen knew there was a road beneath his feet, and he wanted to move. But the warnings from his subconscious kept him from taking a step and exploring this pitch-black place.
While he hesitated, a gate woven from strands of gray light appeared before him. Whispers drifted from its direction, seemingly telling him:
"Come. This is where you belong."
To his horror, Allen discovered that he was moving, though he knew perfectly well he had given his body no such command. This was different from being drunk and unable to control himself. It felt as though he had completely lost control over his own being.
As his body moved, images