The creaking wooden steps led the pirate below the deck, balancing a plate of stale bread and a cup of water. The ship's cell was a dank, cramped space, lit dimly by a flickering lantern. Approaching the prisoner, the pirate noticed the man's parched lips and sunken eyes, a clear sign of severe dehydration. "Please," the prisoner croaked, "let me out. I'm dying."
The pirate's brows furrowed, a mix of confusion and concern sweeping over his face. He'd only been in the cell a day, yet his condition had deteriorated rapidly. As the pirate stood there, uncertain, the thud of heavy footsteps echoed behind him. The vice-captain of the Silver Eye Pirates emerged—a towering giant, easily seven feet tall, his presence alone commanding respect and fear.
