Abyss.

He'd been thrown into the great abyss. Other's voices washed over him like the intangible sound of great leaden anchors dragging along the rutted, uneven sea floor. He felt himself sinking lower, yet with no reference or knowledge of yet how much nether he would scuttle.

The abyss was a black, shapeless form that enveloped all who so much as approached it. Michael had not merely approached it; he had been sent hurtling in, head first by the news that he was once again alone. He tried to stem the tide, yet the mere concept of resistant struggle was the stuff of myth and legend; the Stygian had void paralyzed him as it drew him further down..