Prologue

It's dark and I can't breathe.
But, as it turns out, I don't need to breathe. The sensation is unfamiliar and uncomfortable and goes against everything I know.
I don't know where I am. I'm smothered in something that could be dirt. Buried alive, maybe? There's an arm around my waist. I stir and the grip tightens.
"Not yet," murmurs a voice I don't recognise, "sleep." It's odd. I don't want to sleep any more. I don't want to lie here covered in dirt and unable to breathe, pressed against a stranger. Every fiber of my being wants to break free from the unwelcome embrace and force myself up, up, up through the blanket of dirt, but even as I'm thinking this, I can feel myself drifting off, back into the abyss. The darkness is coming for me again, beckoning to me with open arms. I can't help but let it take me.