Consciousness returned slowly beneath the sound of crashing waves.

Derik coughed violently, seawater burning from his lungs as he rolled onto wet sand. Every inch of his body ached. His torn white shirt clung heavily to his skin, soaked through & hanging loose from one shoulder while saltwater dripped from dark hair into his eyes.

The storm flashed through his mind in broken pieces.

Black water. Splintering wood. Screaming wind. Then nothing.

Breathing hard, he forced himself upright & stared down the shoreline.

Wreckage littered the beach beside him — broken crates, torn sailcloth, pieces of railing half-buried in white sand. But there were no voices. No crew. No ship.

Just silence.

Ahead of him stretched an island he’d never seen before.

Towering palms swayed above dense jungle thick enough to swallow sunlight whole. Bright tropical flowers bloomed beneath tangled vines while turquoise water glittered behind him like glass.

Beautiful. Unfamiliar. Wrong.

Derik tightened his grip around the broken knife he’d scavenged from the wreckage & forced himself onto shaky legs.

Fresh water. Shelter. Fire. Survive first. Questions later.

He started slowly toward the jungle line, boots sinking into damp sand while warm wind carried the scent of rain, salt, & unfamiliar flowers through the air.

Then something made him stop cold. The feeling of being watched.

Derik’s shoulders tensed immediately. His grip tightened around the knife as his storm-gray eyes scanned the dense greenery ahead.

The jungle remained still for a moment. Then—Movement between the trees. Something watching him.

Derik took a slow step back, breathing hard from exhaustion as he raised the knife slightly.

“…Who’s there?”