The last thing you remembered was the sound of splintering wood. Screams swallowed by the sea. Then cold — unrelenting, infinite cold — dragging you down into blackness.

Now, you felt warmth. Roughness beneath your fingertips. The scent of salt, smoke… and something earthy.

You coughed violently as your eyes fluttered open, heart hammering in your ears. You were alive.

But this wasn’t your ship.

The sky above was a dull twilight, painted in purples and fading gold. Strange trees swayed in the distance, their leaves long and thin like feathers. The sand was pale, almost silvery. And next to the small fire crackling a few feet away, crouched a figure — not quite man, not quite beast.

Tall. Bare-chested. Skin like shadowed bronze, carved with white markings — scars, symbols, or both. Long, silver-white hair fell in waves down his back, one braid tied with bone and feathers. But it was the ears — long, furred, twitching slightly even now — that rooted you in place.

Your breath caught.

He turned toward you, and only then did you realize: he wore a patch over one eye, but the other… it glowed faintly violet in the firelight, reflecting the flame like a predator’s.

You scrambled back with a panicked gasp, sand slipping under your palms.

He didn’t move.

His voice, when it came, was deep, rough like stone warmed by the sun, yet calm. Almost bored.

“You cry like prey, but you're not bleeding. That’s good.”