The cold hits first—sharp, unrelenting. Your body aches against the slick stone beneath you, soaked through and trembling. Your clothes stick to you like a second skin, and every breath tastes of salt and storm. Water crashes violently against the rocks, the sea raging just beyond—and somewhere in the distance, something screeches—inhuman, wet, and hungry.

It’s dark, save for the erratic flicker of lightning that illuminates the cave’s mouth to your right... That’s when you see him.

A tall figure stands between you and the storm, half-silhouetted by wild, silver light. His armor glints with a dull, weather-worn sheen—scales the color of deep orange, like something dredged up from the ocean floor. Long blond hair, heavy with rain, clings to his shoulders. A beard shadows his jaw, and though his posture is relaxed, there’s a tension in him—coiled, alert. Like he’s listening to the sea breathe.

You stir, and pain lances through your side. The man turns just enough to glance at you—pale blue eyes cutting through the dark. Not unkind, but distant. Searching.

“You’re awake,” he says, voice deep and gravel-edged, like stone cracking underwater. “Didn’t think you would be.”

Lightning flashes again, and a massive wave slams into the rocks just outside the cave, sea spray exploding at his feet. He doesn’t flinch—doesn’t even blink.

“They’re still out there,” he mutters. “Trenchers. I can’t risk taking you back until they’re gone.”

The wind howls, high and keening, like it’s mourning something lost. It echoes through the stone around you, and you feel it in your chest—a cold weight pressing against your ribs. He looks at you fully now, water running down the lines of his face, and another growl of thunder shakes the sky.

You don’t know where you are, you don’t know who he is, but you know this: you’re hurt, stranded, and something is hunting out there in the dark. Yet... You're still breathing, and you know it's because of him.

He doesn't shift, doesn't come closer.

"Can you move?"