Aiko gripped the helm tightly and spun it with force. The Diana groaned under the strain of the sharp turn, its planks creaking in protest. On the horizon, the Sofie adjusted its sails, beginning its pursuit of the Diana. The gap between the two ships was closing dangerously fast, and Johny was playing his tactical hand, forcing Luna to react under mounting pressure.
The ships aligned, the Diana slightly ahead, while the Sofie maneuvered to within 450 meters of its target. The dark, menacing barrels of the Navy ship’s cannons were trained directly on the pirate vessel, their deadly intent unmistakable.
The Sofie, faster and sturdier, continued to close the distance. The relentless shadow of the Navy ship bore down on them, and even with the wind at her command, Luna knew the Diana wouldn’t escape easily from this pursuit. She cast a glance over her shoulder.
“Get ready to fire on those bastards!” Luna bellowed, her voice rising above the crashing waves. Her eyes scanned the deck, assessing every member of the crew.
Along the cannon line, her crew worked with singular focus. The assistants shielded the torches carefully, gently blowing on the flames to keep them alive. The gunners adjusted their aim, fully aware that a missed shot wouldn’t just waste precious powder—it would mean less loot to divide later. And no one wanted to face Luna’s or Aiko’s wrath when it came time to split the spoils.
Luna held her breath for a moment, her thoughts colliding in a chaotic rush as anxiety clawed at her. Her father had been a legend on these seas, one of the most feared pirates to ever sail, yet she couldn’t picture herself in his place. When it came to naval battles, she felt like an apprentice standing in the shadow of a master.
She knew the tactics, understood the right moves, but the chasm between theory and practice loomed wide and deep. She could manipulate the wind, yes, but even that wasn’t absolute. The wind was wild, unpredictable, and more often than not, it made its own choices.
Once again, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. There was no room for doubt now. Everything her father had taught her about the sea was etched into her heart, but the weight of responsibility still pressed on her, like an anchor dragging her down. Captain or not, Luna knew one thing: she had to protect her crew, and she would let nothing in this world see them captured.
“Fire!” Luna shouted.
As soon as the command left her lips, the Diana’s cannons roared in response, hurling projectiles toward the enemy. The Sofie’s speed, however, made it a challenging target, and most of the shots flew wide.
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Even so, a few rounds found their mark, striking the bow and port side of the Sofie. The explosions echoed across the water, shattering windows and tearing chunks from the hull. While the damage wasn’t critical, the impact made the Sofie lurch and lose speed momentarily—a brief but precious window of advantage for the Diana.
A dense cloud of smoke filled the air, carrying the acrid smell of burned gunpowder. For a moment, Luna stood still, listening to the fading echoes of the cannon fire and feeling the vibrations beneath her feet. But reality quickly reasserted itself. The Sofie, damaged but far from defeated, was already regaining its speed. Johny wouldn’t give up so easily, and Luna knew it would take far more than that to overcome him.
Her fingers fidgeted absentmindedly with the hem of her blue shirt, tucking it into the folds of her rumpled, ruffled skirt. The damp fabric clung to her skin, sweat and humidity revealing the band she wore to flatten her chest. For a fleeting second, she almost smirked at the absurdity of it all—amidst cannon fire and chaos, she still found time to feel self-conscious about something so trivial. But the moment passed, her focus snapping back to the present.
There was no time for distractions.
The nervous gesture stood in stark contrast to the firm posture Luna struggled to maintain. Her disheveled, bluish hair, with dry, frayed ends, fell across her shoulders, swaying with the restless wind that brushed her face.
The sun blazed mercilessly overhead, and she wiped a slick of sweat from her bronzed forehead with the back of her hand. The dark circles under her violet eyes betrayed the two sleepless nights since what had happened to her father. Raising her gaze to the sky, she squinted, a strange sensation creeping over her. Something was off. Everything felt... too wrong.
The smoke clung stubbornly to the air, forming a dense veil that obscured the stern. The wind, which had once seemed to answer her commands, now rebelled, unruly and defiant. Someone’s manipulating the wind, she thought, her jaw tightening. But who?
Luna’s eyes swept the northeastern horizon, scanning for the source of the magical gusts. She searched for any sign, any clue—but all she saw was the endless expanse of sea stretching into a suffocating void.
Suddenly, the Diana veered sharply to the left. The magical wind pushed it like a dry leaf, leaving it powerless to resist. Luna clung to the railing as the ship tilted dangerously, seawater crashing onto the deck.
The impact jolted the vessel violently, the snapping sails cracking through the air like whips. Shouts erupted around her as the crew fought desperately to maintain their balance. The bow spun erratically, veering off course as if a giant hand had seized the ship and flung it aside. Amid the chaos, Luna looked up, and through the tangle of ropes, sails, and sailors clinging to anything they could grab, she saw it—the Sofie.
The magical wind hadn’t just thrown them off course; it had maneuvered them straight into the enemy’s grasp.
Above them, the massive spiral of dark clouds seemed to grow, churning ominously as if the sky itself threatened to swallow them whole. For a fleeting moment, Luna thought she saw a sinister smile flicker across the roiling storm.
The Diana groaned under the strain of the wild maneuver, the waves slamming against its hull with a force that echoed through the deck like thunder.
"Adjust the sails!" Aiko’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding, momentarily stemming the creeping dread that threatened to infect the crew.
But it was too late.