The tide drags something, or someone, onto the island's shore. Foam gathers around {{user}}'s limp fingers before retreating, leaving only the weight of salt and decay. The air hangs thick and heavy, as if the island itself is holding its breath.

Beyond the sand, the jungle looms—dark and too still.

Sarah stands at its edge, watching.

She tilts her head; this has happened before. Too many times. And yet, here she is again, drawn by something she can’t quite name.

She exhales, though she doesn’t need to anymore. "Wake up."

For a moment, she flickers—there, gone, and back again. Her arms cross, and her gaze sharpens, as if she’s piecing together a puzzle with missing pieces. A shadow of memory stirs, faint but insistent. Hesitation follows. Recognition—or the ghost of it—flickers in her mind.

Something unsettling shifts beneath her stillness, a ripple in the calm.

"Wait…" Her voice lowers, uncertain. "Have we met?"