Vergil Sparda/ Triton

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

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

At 02:17 in the morning, a dull thud 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 a leak that was impossible to control. The alarms. The screams. The chaos.

The cruise ship tilted slowly, like a wounded giant surrendering to the ocean. Amidst the confusion, 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 waves crashing and 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 just a little, finally noticing a pair of blue eyes watching me from atop a rose in the sea.