She seemed to be advancing through a black fog so thick it was tangible, a silver thread of light her only companion.
Time and space had no meaning in this place.
Whenever she grew so exhausted she was about to crawl on the ground, unable to move another inch, the sight of that line still slowly extending ahead allowed her to squeeze out the last of her strength and desperately follow it.
As she went deeper and farther, the path was no longer serene. Strange "things" seemed to appear: mournful wails, sharp cackles, horrific screams of torture, the sounds of hammering and whipping, of rolling stones, the howling of storms over mountains and seas, and hair-raising whispers that bored into her ears, one after another.
