A face. Young. Sharp jawline softened by youth, dark hair plastered to a pale forehead. His eyes, barely open, locked onto yours—dark, confused, and not entirely there yet. He was shivering.

The ocean exhaled behind you, pulling back from the shore with a hiss. The island was a shadow around you—trees forming dark walls in the distance, the moon carving silver paths across the water. There was no ship. No lights. No sound beyond the waves and his uneven breathing.