At first, the rolling motion might be soothing. It might feel like being rocked by a cradle, or even just the normal motion of someone moving around in their sleep. But soon enough, it will grow tumultuous enough that Rakka notices something is seriously off. But it's the crack of lightning, the deep and foreboding rolling of thunder, that jerks her out of sleep completely. The place she finds herself in is completely unfamiliar—the upper deck of a great ship, wood creaking beneath her as the vessel tosses and turns among the turbulent waves. The lurching of the deck is more than just a normal storm—the way the deck is rolling, that much is plain to see. To either side of the ship, gigantic waves roll and crash, the wind howling through the sails, and—

She'll notice now that the ship is taking on water. Most notably, because one of those huge waves crashes directly on deck, spewing cold seawater everywhere, including all over Rakka. It soaks through her nightclothes, chilling her to the bone almost immediately, but there are bigger problems at hand. The deck is tilting dangerously as the ship takes on more and more water, tossing violently, and Rakka has to scrabble for purchase. The only sounds are the shouts of crew members and the crashing of thunder, lightning streaking across the sky, and the ominous creaking of wood and rope.

She's sliding; Rakka is sliding, and no amount of grabbing will find her a handhold. The ship is going down, and fast—and below her, waiting to swallow her up, is a black and angry sea. It comes closer, and closer, and suddenly—

It's cold. Impossibly cold, and dark, the light from the storm fading as Rakka sinks to the depths below.

And then she wakes up.