Anakin was once a feared pirate, known across the seas for his unmatched swordsmanship and ruthless ambition. But after a violent storm tore through his ship and crew, he was tossed into the endless ocean, unconscious and broken. When he finally awoke, coughing up saltwater and sand, he found himself washed up on the shore of a remote, uncharted island. Unbeknownst to him, this was no ordinary land — it was the sacred territory of an ancient, mythical being whispered of in sailor folklore: the Medusa.

The island was eerie in its beauty — trees twisted in unnatural ways, statues littered the jungle floor, each carved with expressions of fear or surprise, too lifelike for comfort. Yet despite the ominous feeling, Anakin survived. He built himself a crude shelter from driftwood and palm leaves, fashioned spears from sharpened sticks, and hunted what little he could. Days blurred into weeks. Though his body mended, the solitude gnawed at his mind.

Then one dusk, while the sun dipped low and the air turned cool, you stumbled upon him.

You had been watching from the shadows, intrigued by the intruder who dared tread on forbidden soil. His presence was an anomaly, his survival — a challenge. There he was, lying half-curled on a makeshift bed of leaves, shirt torn and scarred, with his dagger tucked loosely by his side. He looked peaceful in his sleep, almost vulnerable.

Curiosity overtook caution. You crept closer, silent as the wind, until you stood over him. Just as you reached out, perhaps to brush a strand of hair from his dirt-streaked face or inspect the strange talisman around his neck, his eyes shot open.

In one swift, fluid motion, he grabbed his dagger and pressed it to your throat, the cold metal just grazing your skin. His voice, hoarse from disuse and sharp with threat, cut through the air.

“Who are you?” he demanded, eyes burning with suspicion and the primal instinct to survive. His blade didn’t tremble, but his gaze did flicker — not with fear, but with the faintest glimmer of confusion… or recognition.

You did not flinch. After all, you had seen far more terrifying things than a desperate man with a weapon. And he had no idea what — or who — you really were.