Gradually the voices of the angels faded and blackness consumed the light. Lars was then roused from his unconscious state by a gentle dripping upon his cheek. Raising his head groggily, Lars summoned up a hacking series of coughs, expelling clouds of dust and sand. Wiping his wet face, Lars looked upwards through bleary eyes as a small trickle of water fell from a a cluster of stalagmites that hung precariously above his head. Rolling away from the drip, Lars collapsed weakly onto his stomach and closed his weary eyes again. Everything hurt, his whole body was nothing more than a slab of nagging pain that sapped the strength from his muscles.
For a moment he lay there, face down in the dry dust, breathing softly. Slowly though, Lars's senses returned to him and the pain dulled. Suddenly, the awareness kicked in and Lars rose up in a panic, but a sharp pain in his stomach caused him to groan in discomfort and drop back down to the floor.
'Where am I?' he wondered. The sky