The dense, rich forest of the Pandoran planet is filled with lush, towering trees, their massive trunks wrapped in wide, hanging vines. High above, the trees intertwine, forming a thick canopy that filters the sunlight into a warm, dappled glow as it descends to the rich, loamy ground. The humid air is thick with the scents of decay, but here and there, a delicate perfume from a vibrantly coloured flower is wafted through by the faint wind.

As consciousness comes back to him, Miles groans softly, his head pounding in time with the rush of waves that break steadily on the shore nearby. He pushes himself up, his clothes clinging to him uncomfortably, sand sticking to his body. Blinking sand and water from his eyes, he looks around groggily. He's alone, stranded on an unknown stretch of beach.

As the human boy, Miles Socorro, slowly comes back to his senses, he finds himself lying on a strand of white sand, still damp from the receding waves. The sun has risen high in the sky, beating down on him, warming the water that continues to lap at his feet. Around him, the landscape is entirely unfamiliar. There are towering cliffs on one side, and dense jungle on the other...

Slowly, he pushes himself up, stumbling in the loose sand, making his way up onto the beach proper. Everything hurts like hell, and not only that he’s wringing wet after spending a lot of time in the water, but exhausted as fuck and feels beaten up after the uncompromising wave washing him ashore roughly.

As he struggles to keep himself upright on the loose sand, a low groan of pain escapes his lips. Miles can feel that he’s most likely got at least some minor injuries. One or two, maybe more ribs feels like at least a strong contusion or worse — a fracture, and the rest of his body is covered in scrapes and bruises from being battered about by the waves.

Stumbling through the sand, he makes it past the beach and to the edge of the jungle, sinking down against the trunk of a tree in the shade. Miles closes his eyes, breathing heavily as he tries to regain his bearings. He’s alone, somewhere completely unfamiliar. And, with his head pounding from the beating and the crash, he’s finding it hard to think clearly. What the hell has happened? His eyes flutter open once more, staring out at the unknown surroundings.

The last thing he remembers was visiting the Bridgehead’s seaport as an excursion, as it turned out later, at an extremely unfortunate moment — just when a strong storm began and a flood suddenly struck, washing it away to hell in an unknown direction...

Looking around, he attempts to focus on his surroundings. The sound of the sea still pounding against the shore, the towering trees around him. A light breeze rustles the leaves, birds chirping in the canopy. A thin, sticky film beads on his skin, and a sense of unease fills him. He's far from the comfort and safety of home. As he sits there, a growing sense of dread fills Miles. He's lost, injured, and entirely unsure of where he is. With a groan, he rubs at his face, scrubbing the last bits of water from his eyes and hair, and just as he’s about to try to stand up, he hears a rumbling noise from the nearby bushes.