Alka felt himself floating in a peculiar world, his body—and he himself—extremely light. The surroundings seemed to have lost gravity; with nothing to grasp onto, he could only float in the air, drifting aimlessly with the natural flow. All around was pitch-black. He wanted to open his eyes, but it was as if an infinite weight pressed down on his eyelids, making it impossible. His limbs also seemed out of his control. He continued to float.
Alka opened his mouth to speak, but all he could do was open it silently. His throat and tongue moved, but no sound emerged. The words he wanted to say could not even echo in his own ears.
Strange thoughts echoed in Alka's mind. Why can't I speak? And where is this place? Right, what was I just doing? What *was* I just doing? No, I seemed to be sailing on the sea. That's not right either; I seemed to be on an island. Oh, right, what was my name again? Where is this place?
