Four days later, Draven found himself leaning on the ship's railing, his gaze fixed on the seemingly endless expanse of empty ocean surrounding them. The horizon stretched out in all directions, devoid of any signs of the elusive vessel they had been sent to plunder.
Margoth, his internal companion, cursed within him. "Four days, and still no fucking ship in sight. It doesn't look like we'll find one anytime soon."
Draven glanced over at Mathias and the other pirates, who were scattered across the upper deck, asleep and utterly exhausted. They had been on constant alert, searching the horizon for any sign of their target, but it seemed as though their efforts had been in vain.
The three moons hung in the sky, casting an ethereal glow over the dark waters as their ship sailed. Draven sighed, his frustration growing. It was time to make a decision.