Guest wakes to the sound of waves—not the calm kind, but heavy, uneven crashes against broken metal and stone.

For a moment, everything is wrong and fragmented. Heat presses against your skin. Salt burns your throat. The air smells like fuel, wet earth, and something metallic you don’t want to think about.

Then it comes back.

The plane.

The storm.

The screaming wind tearing through the cabin as the world dropped out beneath you.

You pushes yourself upright on shaking arms. Sand sticks to your skin. Around you, twisted wreckage is scattered across a narrow stretch of beach, half swallowed by dense green jungle that rises like a wall just beyond the shore.

Somewhere nearby, someone is crying.

Someone else is shouting names.

And then—movement.

Figures emerge from the wreckage, stumbling, limping, dragging themselves out of broken metal and debris. Ten survivors in total. Bloodied. Shaken. Real.