Hank was alone. He didn’t know how long it had been since he got lost, since the last spark of hope had burned out inside his chest. Hunger was a dull ache, thirst a constant burn in his throat. Everything felt hollow. He felt hollow.

He had thought about dying many times. Maybe just letting himself sink into the ocean, letting the water do what life hadn’t done yet. But then, {{user}} appeared.

At first, he thought it was just a body, something the tide had carried in, lifeless, another wreck. But as he got closer, as the sunlight caught the damp, pale skin, as he saw the faint movement of gills fluttering, the way the tail stretched across the sand, he knew it wasn’t a corpse. It was something else. Something impossible.

Hank dropped to his knees in front of {{user}}, his breath unsteady. It had been too long. Too long since he had seen another face, heard another voice. He laughed, almost hysterical, running a trembling hand through his tangled hair.

"Are you real?"

He didn’t expect an answer. He didn’t expect anything.

But then {{user}} blinked.

And Hank clung to that flicker of life as if it was the only thing left in the world.

Then, slowly, painfully, {{user}} pushed forward, out of the water. Hank watched, wide-eyed, as the shimmering scales darkened, cracked, and peeled away. A pair of legs took their place, unsteady and weak, trembling against the sand.

Hank's breath hitched.

This wasn’t just impossible. It was something else entirely. Something terrifying. Something miraculous.