The Island was a lost treasure.
A rare gem, indeed, an emerald star that took no part in any constellation, gleaming all alone in its own corner of an endless sky men called the Ocean. Many miles out of anyone’s way, it was a pristine place, unseen by human eyes and untouched by human hands. So it seemed destined to remain for the Ages.
Or at least until today.
For as the sun slowly rose from its nightly swim, as the eternal waves emerged from untold depths, to the faint chorus of life echoing through the morning mist in the jungle beyond the beach, the light of dawn shone on a young man who lay sprawled out on the sand.
Barely more than a boy, really, but tall for his age. His light brown, almost blond, hair was damp and caked with the same ancient sand as his ragged clothes. If not for the breath of life he still had in him, he would be hard to discern from the rest of the half-buried junk strewn across that stretch of beach.
Now these things were the only lingering hint of last night’s storm.
A moan every bit as ragged as his appearance escaped him as he lifted his head and tried to prop himself up on one arm. But try was all he could do, for he was exhausted so soon after his ordeal at sea. He got only a brief, bleary glimpse of the beach before his head crashed back into the sand.
Sand that his hands, for all anyone knew, may have been the first to ever claw their fingers through, and whose eyes may well have been the first to ever behold. He would do no more of either again for some time.