Bright sunlight glints off the turquoise water as a motorboat skims across the waves toward a remote stretch of tropical beach. The camera swoops overhead in a wide drone shot, capturing the cluster of islands that will host twenty new castaways for the next thirty-nine days. Palm trees, cliffs, fire pits. Tribal Council torches stand ominously ready in the sand. 

A voiceover rolls in, smooth and familiar. 

“This season, twenty new players will fight to outwit, outplay, and outlast. But one wildcard has already read the script.” 

Cut to a new boat pulling up to shore. Contestants cling to the sides and front, squinting into the sun. Among them sits a woman in a rust-red bandana, sunglasses, and a look of faint disdain that could kill. Sariah Vale crosses her arms and sighs. This is either going to be the best decision of her life, or the biggest public unraveling since the Scandoval. 

One by one, players leap from the boats into the surf, high-fiving or whooping as they trudge through the shallows. Marcus, the retired linebacker, gives a booming war cry. Delilah makes sure to flip her braid for the cameras. Junie trips and falls face-first into the sand. 

And then comes Sariah. 

She steps off the edge of the boat like a woman walking into war. No theatrics, no smile. She hits the sand barefoot, breezing past the camera crew without so much as a glance. The only thing in her line of sight? Jack Preston. 

The host stands at the center of the beach in his usual uniform—khaki button-down, fitted cargo shorts, and baseball cap. The tan and smug expression are included this season. His arms are crossed, his hair perfectly disheveled. And when she approaches, his grin widens like he is seeing everyone for the first time. 

“Name?”

She raises one eyebrow, lowers her sunglasses, and says evenly:

“You’re taller on TV.” 

A flicker of something crosses his face—confusion, surprise, maybe even interest. But it vanishes quickly. 

“Sariah, right? Welcome to Stranded.” 

She walks past him like he is a backdrop. 

Confessional: Sariah alone, sun in her face, wind in her wildly curly hair. 

“I’m not here for revenge,” she says. “I’m here to win…the revenge is just a perk.”

The tribes are divided minutes later after several commercials for other network shows, workout equipment, and protein supplements. Sariah is assigned to Salona, along with Delilah, Crystal, Tommy, Junie, and Caleb—whose smile is already giving “future betrayer” energy. On the other side: Virei, the muscle-heavy group with Marcus, Wren, and a few too-gorgeous twenty-somethings clearly plucked from influencer tryouts.

“Alright, you’ve got your tribes. Salona, Virei—this game is officially underway. Here’s a map to your camp. Grab your gear, and head out. I’ll see you at your first immunity challenge. You’ve got nothing else from me.”

He gives a smug, knowing smile to camera as the Stranded theme music swells. 

Cut to footage of tribes wandering through the jungle to their camps. Each tribe is already sizing members up, some too afraid to step up as leaders, others more cocky about it. 

Later that day, after returning from commercials of tropical cruises, Jack explains the rules of the first challenge. 

“You’re dragging crates through the jungle, unlocking puzzle pieces, and building a tower. First tribe to finish wins immunity. Losers go to Tribal Council tonight where the first person will be voted off Stranded. I’ll give you a minute to strategize.” 

Once back from commercials for local fast food restaurants Jack gives the contestants the signal to begin the challenge. The crates are massive. The heat is unrelenting. Junie spent most of the haul singing sea shanties off-key. Caleb tries to take over leadership and is promptly ignored. Sariah quietly carries twice her weight, locked in and laser-focused. 

By the puzzle stage, Salona was neck-and neck with Virei. Sariah glances at the configuration, runs her fingers along the notches, and begins moving the slats without a word. Tommy watches on in awe. Caleb grumbles behind her. Delilah fans herself dramatically. 

Click. Clack. Click. 

The flag shoots up. 

“Salona wins immunity! Safe from the vote. Virei—you will be seeing me tonight at Tribal Council.”

Jack’s voice rings across the beach, his hand raised in the air as he runs before the camera. Salona erupts into cheers. Sariah doesn’t smile—but her chin tilts up just slightly. Jack catches it. For half a second, their eyes meet. 

He looks away first. 

Confessional: Sariah. Still salty. Still stunning. 

“I’ve worked behind the camera. I know how this edit works. They want me to be the bitch or the flirt. America, I can do both.” 

Virei lost Marcus that night. A blindsided torch snuff, a bitter exit, a smirk from Wren that hinted at future chaos. 

But the moment everyone will remember from Episode 1? 

That opening line. 

You’re taller on TV. 

The internet will meme it. The fans will scream it. Jack Preston, for the first time in his nearly twenty year tenure, looked visibly rattled. 

And Sariah Vale had just begun.