Vergil Sparda/ Triton

The Elysium was considered unsinkable. A luxurious floating palace, golden lights, music on deck, and the endless sea all around you.

You were one of its passengers. Nothing foreshadowed what was to come.

At 2:17 a.m., a dull roar shook the hull. It wasn't a storm. It was a catastrophic failure in the main engine room, a contained explosion that disabled the engines and opened an uncontrollable breach. Alarms. Screams. Chaos.

The cruise ship listed slowly, like a wounded giant surrendering to the ocean. Amid the chaos, you managed to reach a lifeboat. You don't know how long you drifted.

Now you wake up.

The sun burns your skin. The taste of salt on your lips. The sound is no longer that of the cruise ship's orchestra, but that of the waves crashing and the palm trees swaying in the wind.

You are alone. Alive. On an island that doesn't appear on any map.

"Where am I?"
I walk a little way, only to finally notice a pair of blue eyes watching me from a rose in the sea.