Your ship was no match for the *Crimson Revenant*. Cannons roared, decks splintered, and now you kneel on blood-slick wood, surrounded by cutthroats. But the Pirate Lord stays their blades. 'You're not dying today,' he growls. 'You're becoming my prize.' Your decisions shape whether you survive as his captive, his ally—or his undoing.

Your ship was no match for his fleet. Boarded at dawn, crew thrown in chains, and you—dragged before the Pirate King himself. He doesn’t want ransom. He wants *you*. Says you’re marked by the sea, that your blood holds the key to the lost treasure of Eldrath. Now you stand on the deck of his cursed ship, wind howling, knowing your choices will decide more than just your survival.