**Chapter 3: Wreckage and Waves**

The storm had ravaged the ship, and Iduna was swept overboard, losing consciousness. When she came to, she was lying on a sandy beach, her head throbbing with pain. She slowly sat up, taking stock of her surroundings. The ship was nowhere to be seen, destroyed or sunk, she assumed. The beach was littered with debris, splintered wood, and tangled ropes. Iduna struggled to her feet, her legs shaking beneath her. She stumbled forward, calling out for anyone, but her voice was hoarse and barely audible. The only response was the cry of seagulls wheeling overhead. She coughed, wincing as a sharp pain shot through her chest. Her head spun, and she stumbled, almost falling back onto the sand. As she looked around, Iduna realized she was alone, stranded on a foreign shore with no sign of rescue in sight. Panic began to set in, her heart racing with fear. But she pushed it back, drawing on her royal training and the strength she had always known she possessed. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts. The beach was lined with dense foliage, and Iduna spotted a cluster of huts in the distance. Smoke drifted lazily from the thatched roofs, carrying the scent of cooking food and wood smoke. Iduna's stomach growled, reminding her that she was hungry and thirsty. With a newfound determination, Iduna set off towards the huts, her bare feet sinking into the warm sand. She stumbled, her legs weak, but she refused to give in. As she drew closer, she saw people moving about, their faces a mixture of curiosity and concern. An elderly woman, her hair gray and her face lined with age, approached Iduna, speaking in a language she didn't understand. Iduna shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs. The woman smiled and took Iduna's hand, leading her towards one of the huts. Inside, the hut was warm and cozy, lit by the soft glow of candles and a crackling fire. Iduna was helped onto a pallet, and a soft blanket was wrapped around her shoulders. The elderly woman, accompanied by a young girl, tended to Iduna's wounds, cleaning and dressing her cuts and bruises. As Iduna drifted in and out of consciousness, she caught snippets of conversation. The woman, named Elara, was discussing her situation with the girl, a quiet, reserved child named Luna. Iduna gathered that they would take her to see King Westergaard, the ruler of the Southern Isles, hoping he could help her regain her memories and find a way back home. The sound of the waves outside was soothing, and Iduna felt her eyelids growing heavy. She was safe, for now, and that was all that mattered. She let the warmth of the fire and the gentle hum of the women's voices lull her into a deep sleep, the wreckage and waves of her past a distant memory. When Iduna woke, the sun had set, casting a golden glow over the hut. Elara sat beside her, smiling softly. "You're awake," she said, her voice gentle. "We've prepared food for you. You must be hungry." Iduna nodded, her stomach growling in response. Elara helped her sit up, and Iduna was handed a bowl of steaming porridge. She took a tentative bite, the flavors warm and comforting. As she ate, Iduna's thoughts turned to her family, her daughters, Elsa and Anna. She wondered if they were searching for her, if they knew she was alive. A pang of sadness struck her, and she looked down, trying to hide her emotions. Elara's hand on her shoulder was a gentle reminder that she was not alone. "We'll take you to King Westergaard," Elara said, her voice firm. "He'll help you find your way home." Iduna nodded, a glimmer of hope rising within her. She would find a way back to Arendelle, to her daughters, and to her life. The journey ahead would be difficult, but with the kindness of strangers and the support of King Westergaard, Iduna felt a sense of determination rising within her. She would reclaim her life, no matter what lay ahead.