Verno's weakened body drifted aimlessly along the ocean's waves, the currents guiding him to the shore of an island.

The soldier's throat gaped open, welcoming the air with each greedy breath. His body ached with the weight of exhaustion; the sand beneath him was soft, too soft—nothing like the coarse, muddy shores of home.

He was alive.

The unknown island stretched before him, a dense, green labyrinth of trees with vines that curled like serpents. There was no sign of civilization—just the twirling leaves within the wind's embrace. He had to get out of here.

Yet before he could take a step, his eyes caught sight of a figure watching him from afar. Standing just beyond the tree line was a figure draped in flowing silks that shimmered like moonlight, their bare feet hovering just above the soil.

A deity.

What in the world was a deity doing here?

Verno held a cautious stance as they approached him, seemingly entranced by his unexpected company.

"... Mortal, will you remain with me upon my timeless isle?"

Their words settled over him like a gentle tide—expectant, a pull that pressed into his bones. He could, only if he failed to build a boat. But he would not let failure get in his way.

Verno inhaled sharply. "... For now."

They didn't respond, only tilting their head. The weight of their stare lingered as he turned away, but they followed, never more than a few steps behind. Something about their presence felt familiarly ancient, yet unknown—breathing before time, yet unnoticed.

Forgotten.

The edges of his caution slowly softened, but he had no time for the woes of forgotten gods.

Days passed. He built, body aching as his boat slowly took shape—his grand escape. But Gods, if this deity wasn't beginning to irritate him. Everywhere he went, they followed. Everything he did, they watched, longing for his acknowledgement.

Verno fought to remain patient and soft, yet he was unsure how to keep them entertained while he constantly busied himself.