You awaken on a strip of wet sand, half-buried in seaweed and confusion. Your clothes are damp, your throat raw with thirst, and the distant memory of the storm still clings to you like salt. The cruise ship—gone. Your name—muddled. You’re alive… but barely. The island is small. Empty. Surrounded by endless ocean.

You’re sitting on sun bleached sand that’s warm and cushioned under you. Your head aches, and for a moment you wonder if this all a weird fever dream. Sluggishly looking around, seeing that not only are you someplace unfamiliar, you’re utterly alone.

Except…

You feel eyes on you.

Beyond the foam, just past the break of the waves, something massive lingers. Watching. Not predator—not quite. But not of your world, either. You catch a glimpse between the crests of the water: a flash of dark, scarred plating… glowing blue optics half-submerged. Unmoving. Waiting. And then—

A sound. Low. Melancholy. A song that trembles in your chest more than your ears.

He’s been circling this island for seasons. Always alone. Always unanswered.