The sea stretched endlessly before us as our boat, the Aurora, cut through the waves near Lucinda. The sun beat down from a clear blue sky, warming my skin. A light breeze carried the briny scent of the sea.

Milo leaned against the railing beside me, staring out at the horizon. “Weather’s too nice. It’s the calm before the storm.”

I sneered, “You worry too much. Just relax and let’s—”

A sudden commotion of air cut me off with a fierce blast of wind. I gazed up at the sky. A swarm of dark clouds had materialized out of nowhere, writhing around each other in a frantic dance across the heavens. The temperature quickly plunged.

Milo clung to the railing tightly, squinting his eyes. “See? I told you.”

The waves thrashed about menacingly, creating an erratic motion that shook the Aurora ferociously. Torrents of rain pelted down in sheets, whipping against my face like sharp needles. The howling wind screeched in my ears like a banshee, nearly rendering me deaf.

I struggled to keep myself steady against the mighty gusts, gripping onto the railing with all my strength. My heart raced frantically as panic crept up into my throat. We were defenseless against the tempestuous wrath of the cyclone brewing above.

The Aurora groaned and creaked under the strain, tilting at a dangerous angle. Fiberglass creaked and splintered slightly, cables whining in protest. Any moment now, she would capsize, plunging us into the churning sea.

We were at the mercy of this tropical cyclone, trapped in its relentless grip. Our only hope was to endure until it passed—if it passed. I swallowed hard, summoning my courage in the face of almost certain death. We would need to fight with everything we had to survive this storm.

A massive wave crashed over the side of the ship, sweeping me off my feet. I tumbled over the railing and plunged into the churning sea below.

The impact knocked the breath from my lungs. I gasped, swallowing mouthfuls of saltwater that burned my throat. Another wave pummeled me, spinning me in circles like a rag doll.

My head cracked against something hard—a piece of debris, or maybe the ship itself. A blinding pain shot through my skull. Darkness crept into the edges of my vision as I struggled to stay afloat.

Exhaustion seeped into my bones, weighing me down. I couldn’t fight anymore. As I sank below the surface, a strange sense of peace enveloped me. At least my suffering would end.

Everything went black.

I awoke to sunlight filtering through a thick canopy of leaves above. A dull ache throbbed at the back of my skull. I blinked, disoriented, and slowly propped myself up on my elbows.

The beach stretched before me, a narrow strip of white sand curving along the edge of a dense jungle. Debris from the Aurora was scattered everywhere—including a few swollen corpses I didn’t dare examine too closely.

We had crashed on an island. I was alive, bruised and injured, but alive. The storm had passed, leaving behind the ruins of my ship and the bodies of my crew. I was stranded in this remote place, alone except for whatever other dangers lurked within its wilderness.

My head spun as I struggled to process this new reality. I had survived the cyclone, but surviving this island might prove to be an even greater challenge. I steeled myself, burying my panic deep inside. If I wanted to make it out of here alive, I would need to stay alert, stay strong, and above all else, stay determined.

I took stock of my situation. I needed shelter, food, water, and medical supplies. A plan began to take shape in my mind.

First, I searched the beach for anything useful and found a knife, some rope, and a waterproof bag. I patched my head wound, grateful my medical training had prepared me for basic first aid.

Scanning the area, I could not find any trace of Milo or anyone else. Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the jungle with precaution. The thick vegetation prevented me from seeing what lay ahead.

, but I listened carefully for any signs of danger. After finding a freshwater stream, I followed it inland until I discovered a small cave in the rocky hills that would serve as adequate shelter.

With shelter secured, I set traps and snares using branches and rope in hopes of catching food. I couldn't depend on scavenging the island indefinitely. Nightfall was fast approaching, so I headed back to my cave. The Rainforest teemed with unknown threats, and I wasn't eager to encounter them in the dark.

Back in the cave, I started a fire for warmth and safety. I still needed to find a way off this island, but for now, my goal was to survive. I had always been adaptable, a useful trait in my line of study, but never had it been so vital as now. I would endure. I had to endure. My survival instincts kicked into overdrive, focused on the present moment. I would face each challenge as it came and adapt as needed.

The distant sounds of the forest at night unsettled me as I huddled close to the fire. My thoughts drifted to my friends, lost at sea or stranded on this island like me. Were any of them still alive? I sighed, gazing into the flames. I couldn't dwell on maybes. I was on my own. For better or worse, it was up to me now. I had to stay strong. I had to stay determined. No matter what dangers I faced in the days to come, I would survive this island. I had no other choice.

The next morning, I ventured out to the wrecked ships in search of supplies. The swim was difficult, my injuries protesting with every stroke, but I persevered. After what seemed like ages, I finally reached the nearest ship.

Climbing aboard, I rummaged through the debris. Most of the cargo had been washed away or damaged beyond use, but I managed to find some tools, rope, tarpaulins and canned food. The tools would be invaluable for building and repairing, and the tarpaulins could be used as shelter. The rope and cans were less immediately useful but could come in handy.

I lashed the supplies into a makeshift raft, using wooden planks and empty barrels for buoyancy. The return swim was even more arduous, my raft threatening to overturn at any moment and dump everything into the sea. By the time I reached shore, I was exhausted.

After a brief rest, I set to work improving my shelter. Using the new tarpaulins and rope, I constructed sturdier walls and a sloped roof to keep out the elements. The tools allowed me to hammer the components together and securely tie everything. Though crude, my new shelter was far more weatherproof. this would put me in relative comfort and keep my stores dry. Satisfied with my progress, I settled in for the evening. My body ached from the day's exertions, but I had achieved my goals. I had the supplies and shelter I needed to face whatever challenges came next. And when I was rested, I would begin planning my escape from this place. I wasn't ready to give up hope just yet. While there was life, there was a way. I would find it.

I woke as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the canopy above. Despite my exhaustion, I had slept fitfully, haunted by dreams of drowning in a churning sea. I shook off the unpleasant memories and set about my morning routine.

After a breakfast of canned beans and fruit, I ventured inland to explore the island. I walked for over an hour through dense jungle, hacking at vines and branches with a knife from the ship's galley. Insects buzzed around my head but I paid them no mind. I was on a mission. I looked for Milo and examined the bodies... Milo Could still be alive.

In time, I arrived at the summit of a rocky hill, where I had a panoramic view of the surrounding area. The island was larger than I had realized, with no sign of habitation anywhere. But to the north, a plume of smoke rose into the sky.

My heart leapt at the sight. Where there was smoke, there was fire. And where there was fire, there were people. I wasn't alone after all.

I raced toward the smoke, heedless of the brambles that tore at my clothes and skin. Nothing else mattered but finding the source of that fire. After half an hour of reckless travel, I emerged into a clearing and stopped dead in my tracks.

A camp had been set up, with several tents and a smoldering campfire. But the camp was deserted. No one remained but me, alone on my island prison once more.

I sank to the ground as despair overwhelmed me. I had been so close, only to have hope snatched away again. The isolation and uncertainty were too much to bear. As tears streamed down my cheeks, I wondered if I would ever escape this place. Or if I would remain here, alone, until the day I died.

I took a deep, shuddering breath and steeled myself. Giving in to despair would only hasten my demise. I needed to stay focused on survival. On escape.

Escape. The thought sparked a renewed determination in me. I would find a way off this island, no matter what it took. No matter how long it took.

I stood and surveyed the abandoned campsite, looking for anything useful the previous inhabitants might have left behind. There, in one of the tents, was a large trunk. I rummaged through it and found a knife, some rope, a flask of fresh water. Small prizes, but they would make my life easier.

My gaze landed on a hand-drawn map pinned to one of the tent walls. It showed a series of islands, including the one I was stranded on. But there, to the southeast, was a larger island with an airstrip marked on it.

I stared at the map, mind racing. There had to be a way to get there. A raft, perhaps, or a canoe. I wouldn't know until I explored the island further.

I folded up the map and placed it carefully in my pocket. This was a sign. A gift of hope when I needed it most. And I was going to use it.

I left the campsite behind me, heading southeast. Toward the airstrip. Toward escape. Toward survival.