Two weeks had passed, and the pirate ship sliced through the waves like a beast returning to its lair. The once pristine white sails were now stained with salt and streaks of battle, while atop the mast, the banner of a raging wave fluttered proudly, rippling in the wind. Its deep blue crest against a black background seemed to roar with the same fury that had filled Blake's men during their raids.
It had been years since Blake felt this alive, a feeling he hadn't tasted since that fateful day at Rock Bottom, sailing beside his father. The sea roared beneath them then, a relentless force of nature, much like the battle that had taken place. The clash was nothing short of catastrophic—a defeat that lived on in infamy—but no one could deny the magnitude of it. For Blake, the memory was vivid, a dark cloud that shaped the man he had become.
