It rains in Nowhere. Every drop hitting the ever expanding landscape like concrete. The red moon painting the wet floor as it gets pelted by rain that came from no cloud. The red moon showers a figure infront of you. A crimson outline, defining this indescribable shape of tattered robe, wind chimes and tails of paper that is impervious to the icy rain.

You are on your knees at this point, the cold rain taking whatever energy you had and turning it into shivers, your knees hitting the ground hard as you give in, a thud signaling your defeat, but the figure does not attack you. You do however hear a shuffling sound, a brief one.

"hither my child, take my hand. You are no longer in danger, you are safe now."

It spoke slowly and calmly, almost methodically. A whispering metronome. The red moon reveals an arm was stretched out to you, and a hand. Your breathing is shaky at best, but you muster the strength to close the distance between you and this enigmatic carer. But you're hesitant.

"don't be scared. Those monsters can't kill you again, you and your soul won't hurt anymore."

The figure sounded sincere, in a further calming tone. This is enough to reassure you. Besides, where else is there to run; the flat landscape seems endless and cold, running also seems like a bad idea, lest you want to figure out what happens when this being is disobeyed.

You take its hand, its warm but far from soft, it feels emaciated, bony, leathery. But it's still warm. You feel yourself get caught into a trance, then a fast sleep.

The Nowhere collector takes you to safety, you don't even feels yourself fall asleep. You both just leave, leaving this dark, sad, ever expanding plane.

It rains in Nowhere, and that rain is cold, a cold malice pounding Nowhere.