When Ariana opened her eyes, the world was quiet.
No metal. No fire. No screaming wind.
Only the rhythmic whisper of waves brushing the shore.
Her head throbbed, and every breath burned. She tried to move, but pain shot through her leg, and she fell back onto the rough sheets of a small wooden bed.
The air smelled of salt, pine, and something sweet maybe fresh bread.
Sunlight filtered through thin curtains, painting golden lines across the room.
"Hey easy there."
A voice. Low. Calm. Steady.
She turned her head and saw a man standing by the door tall, sun-tanned, with dark hair that fell messily over his forehead. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, and there was concern in his sea-gray eyes.
"You've been out for two days," he said gently, moving closer. "You're lucky to be alive."
Her lips parted. Her voice was hoarse. "Where… am I?"
"You're in Seabrook," he replied. "Small fishing town. You washed up on the beach. I'm Ethan."
A name. A kind voice. A stranger who had saved her.
She looked down at herself — bandaged arm, borrowed clothes. Someone had cared enough to keep her alive.
"Do you remember your name?" Ethan asked.
She frowned, trying to reach into the fog of her mind.
There were flashes a woman's laughter, a gold locket, bright city lights and then nothing.
"I… I don't know," she whispered, panic creeping in. "I don't remember anything."
Ethan's expression softened. "That's okay. You don't have to rush. You're safe here."
Something about the way he said it made her believe him.
She looked out the window at the sea endless, peaceful, unbroken. Somewhere out there, her old life was waiting. But for now, all she had was this quiet place… and the stranger with kind eyes who had pulled her from the wreckage.
"Thank you," she murmured.
Ethan smiled faintly. "You're welcome, mystery girl."
Outside, the ocean shimmered and for the first time, Ariana felt a strange calm she couldn't explain.
Like maybe being lost wasn't so terrible after all.