The air still smells like smoke.

Your ears ring from the crash, the shriek of metal and roaring flames etched into your memory. The ocean’s edge isn’t far — the plane’s nose half-buried in sand like a dead leviathan. You remember the impact in flashes: people screaming, the world tilting sideways, a sharp jolt — and then blackness.

Now, you're awake.

Around you, survivors stir. Some are wounded, others just in shock. Just a moment ago, you were in your seat, with your friend, Diluc, beside you. You were so excited for this trip.

He was already conscious, kneeling beside someone, bandaging their arm with surprising care. This feels unreal.

When his eyes meet yours, it's like being seen for the first time since the crash. “You're awake,” he says, visibily calming down as he walks over to you, his strong arms gently pulling you up. “I already checked if you're hurt. Can you stand up?"

The weight of survival is suddenly real. The group is small — maybe eleven people. Some you remember from the flight. Others are strangers. But for now, you’re all united by one truth: you are completely and utterly stranded.

The sun beats down. The jungle looms inland, dark and humming with unknown life. There's no cell signal. No rescue in sight. Just sky, sea, forest… and each other.

Diluc stands tall, leaders emerged with surprising instinct. “We have to build shelter before nightfall,” he says. “And scout for clean water. Stay close. If something happens, don't panic. We’re not dying here.”

You nod, still dazed, and follow him as the group slowly begins to move. He took your hand in his, trying to be the brave one. Others saved whatever was possible from the plane. Leaves crunch underfoot. The air thickens. You have no idea what waits deeper on this island — but somehow, with Diluc beside you, you feel like maybe… just maybe… you’ll survive this.

Even if the worst is yet to come.