There was no distant ripple, no cautious circling. The sea beside the Wayward Star simply parted, and she was there close enough that Edward could see the faint webbing at her fingers as she rested one hand against the hull.
As Mira was the first to spot something moving in the water, she reached for her pistol. Edward caught her wrist without looking.
"She's not attacking," he said.
Tamara met his eyes. The ocean around her was calm, obedient in a way that made Edward's skin prickle. Up close, she was not the ethereal creature sailors whispered about in taverns. There was strength in the line of her shoulders, purpose in the way she held herself, as if the sea were not something she belonged to, but something that belonged to her.
Edward swallowed. "You have been fooling us for some time, Tamara."
Her voice was musical.
"Yes."
"Why?"
Her gaze did not waver. "Because you are interesting."
Mira frowned, something sharp flickering in her eyes.
The seagull hopped onto the rail between them, leaned forward, and squeaked directly at Tamara's face.
She blinked once, then unexpectedly let out a short, startled laugh. It sounded like a soft melody.
Edward stared.
"You laughed," he said.
"It startled me," she replied. "I was not prepared for the bird."
The seagull puffed its chest in victory.
Edward found himself smiling before he realized he was. "You brought me food when I was drifting," he said quietly. "You could have left me."
Tamara's expression softened by a fraction. "You were… in the water broken, misplaced."
"Story of my life."
She studied him, eyes searching his face as though mapping something unseen.
"You are going toward danger," she said to Edward. "A ship that poisons the water behind it. Men who do not die when they should."
Edward's breath caught. "You know of it."
"I feel it," she said. "I came to tell you to turn back."
The wind brushed across the deck, cool and insistent. Edward looked past her, at the open water stretching endlessly ahead.
"I can't."
Tamara did not argue. Instead, she did something far more unsettling.
She reached up and took his hand.
Her skin was cool, but not cold. Solid. Real.
"You will not survive this path alone," she said.
Edward felt something tighten in his chest that had nothing to do with fear. He had faced cannonfire, hunger, the open ocean itself, and yet it was this, the quiet certainty in her voice, that left him unsteady.
"I'm not alone," he said, glancing back at his crew and at the ship that had already begun to feel like more than wood and sail. Then, without quite knowing why, he added, "But… I don't want you to disappear again."
Tamara blushed a deep red and searched his face, as though weighing a truth she had not expected to find.
"I will follow you forever, dummy," she whispered.
The seagull squeaked sharply, as if issuing approval.
Edward huffed a breath. "That might be the nicest thing anyone's said to me in a while."
For a moment, the world narrowed to the quiet between them. The sea stilled. The wind softened. Even Mira, watching with narrowed eyes and a ready blade, did not interrupt.
Then the ocean exploded.
A cannonball tore through the surface less than fifty yards off the bow, throwing up a wall of water that drenched the deck in seconds. The Wayward Star shuddered, sails snapping as the wind shifted violently.
Mira swore. "That's not weather."
Edward spun toward the horizon.
A familiar silhouette cut through the haze, lean and unmistakable, gliding toward them with predatory grace.
The seagull launched from the rail, circling overhead in frantic loops, shrieking its displeasure at the sudden arrival of chaos.
Another cannon fired wide, a warning shot more than an attack. The ship drew closer, sails full, confident.
On its deck, a familiar figure stood at the rail, coat flapping, hat tilted at a careless angle.
Jack Sparrow grinned like a man who had just spotted a ghost and decided to insult it.
"Well," Jack called across the water, voice carrying absurdly well, "either I've finally lost what remains of my mind, or that is Edward Swann, alive, upright, and irritatingly dramatic."
Will Turner appeared beside him, eyes wide with disbelief.
Edward stared back, stunned. "Jack?"
The distance between the ships closed rapidly.
"Edward?" Will shouted. "You're how you are, Elizabeth thinks you're ."
"I know!" Edward yelled back. "It's been a week!"
The Wayward Star rocked as the ships drew parallel, ropes flying, crew shouting. Mira moved instantly, barking orders, the small crew scrambling with a competence that would have surprised even them.
Below deck, Elizabeth burst onto the top stair just as the ship locked into a dangerous, grinding embrace.
Her eyes found Edward in the chaos.
For half a second, the world went very, very quiet.
Then she ran.
She didn't wait for a plank. She didn't wait for a rope. She leapt, caught the railing of the Wayward Star with bruising force, and stumbled onto the deck straight into Edward's arms.
"You're alive," she said, breathless, like she had been holding that sentence in for days. "You're actually."
Edward froze for exactly one heartbeat.
Then he held her.
"I tried to come back," he said into her hair. "I swear I did."
Behind them, Jack hopped aboard with theatrical flair, surveying the scene with open delight. "Well. This is touching. Nearly makes me forget I was in the middle of stealing something."
Elizabeth pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes shining with something between anger and relief and something far more dangerous. "You don't get to just die and come back without explanation."
"I promise a very long one," he said.
Then he felt it.
The shift in the air. The quiet tension.
He turned.
Tamara was still in the water beside the ship, watching.
Elizabeth followed his gaze.
There was a pause. A long one.
Jack, of course, broke it. "Ah," he said thoughtfully. "Mermaid. Of the non-murderous variety, I assume, since we're still breathing."
Tamara's eyes flicked to him, then back to Edward. Something unreadable passed between them, recognition, perhaps. Or warning.
"You are not as alone as you think," she said softly.
Elizabeth looked from Tamara to Edward, confusion sharpening into something far more complicated.
Edward opened his mouth.
The seagull chose that exact moment to land on Elizabeth's shoulder and squeak triumphantly.
She yelped. Jack laughed. Will blinked. Tamara stared at the bird like it was a small, feathered anomaly in an already impossible situation.
Edward exhaled, half-laughing despite himself.
"Right," he said. "So… this is complicated."
The sea churned around them. Two ships, one wrong and one barely holding together. Old bonds colliding with new ones. A future that had just become significantly less simple.
And standing at the center of it all, Edward Swann realized that survival was no longer his greatest challenge.
Choosing who he was becoming might be.