CHAPTER 22: RETURN TO THE CURSED ISLE
The war council convened in the Dauntless's great cabin, maps spread across the table, lanterns casting uncertain shadows.
Norrington stood at the head, rigid in his naval uniform. Elizabeth flanked him, her borrowed sailor's clothes a stark contrast to his military precision. I had positioned myself near the door—visible enough to be included, anonymous enough to be overlooked.
"The island's defenses are unknown," Norrington said, tracing the coastline on a weathered chart. "We have no intelligence on their numbers, their positions, their—"
"I can help with that."
Jack Sparrow strolled through the cabin door as if he owned the ship. The marines who should have been guarding him were conspicuously absent. How he'd escaped the brig was a mystery I suspected involved hidden lockpicks and impressive flexibility.
Norrington's hand dropped to his sword. "Guards—"
"Oh, put that away." Jack waved dismissively. "We both want the same thing. Barbossa dead, the curse broken, everyone home in time for tea." He leaned over the map, studying it with genuine focus. "I know that island. I know those caves. I know exactly where Barbossa will perform his little ritual."
"And why would you help us?"
"Because Barbossa stole my ship." Jack's voice lost its theatrical edge. "Because he left me to die. Twice. Because when this is over, I want the Black Pearl back, and I want him dead. Our interests align, Commodore. Temporarily."
The cabin was silent. Norrington's jaw worked as he calculated risks and benefits.
"Speak," he finally said. "But if this is some trick—"
"No tricks. Not tonight." Jack pointed to the cave entrance on the map. "The ritual happens here, in the main treasure chamber. Barbossa will have guards posted throughout the caves—probably a dozen, maybe more. The rest of his crew will be on the Pearl, watching for approach."
"A two-pronged assault," Norrington said slowly. "Naval engagement to draw their attention while a ground team infiltrates the caves."
"Exactly." Jack tapped the map. "Your ships engage the Pearl. Keep them busy. Meanwhile, a small team—quiet, fast—slips into the caves and disrupts the ritual before Will Turner bleeds out."
Elizabeth stepped forward. "I'm going with the ground team."
"Absolutely not." Norrington shook his head. "Miss Swann, you've been through enough—"
"Will is in there because of me. Because Barbossa thought I was a Turner." Her voice was steel. "I'm going."
The argument continued, but I'd stopped listening. My attention had drifted to the golden thread—visible now if I focused, stretching from my chest through the cabin wall toward Jack.
Still there. Still connecting us.
I didn't understand what it meant, but I understood its implication. Jack's survival meant my survival. Whatever happened tonight, I needed to keep him alive.
"I'll go too."
Everyone turned. I stepped forward from my shadowed corner.
"You?" Norrington barely seemed to remember I existed. "Who are you?"
"He's with me," Jack said before I could answer. "Useful in a fight. Quiet. And he sees things."
"Sees things?"
"Intuition." I kept my voice steady. "I can tell when something's wrong. When danger's coming. It's saved lives before."
Cotton's boom, I thought. The crossbow bolt in the cave. Jack knows what I can do, even if he doesn't understand it.
Norrington studied me for a long moment. Then he shook his head—not refusal, just resignation.
"Fine. The ground team will be Sparrow, Miss Swann, this man, and six of my marines." He straightened. "We assault at midnight. Dismissed."
I found a quiet corner of the deck as the ship prepared for battle. The knife I'd acquired from the ship's stores needed attention—the edge was good but not perfect, the blade slightly oiled but not properly maintained.
I cleaned it methodically. Sharpened the edge against a whetstone borrowed from a marine. Checked the balance, the grip, the way it sat in my hand.
The repetitive motion calmed my nerves. Focused my mind.
"Preparing for war?"
Jack appeared beside me, silent as a ghost. The man moved without sound when he wanted to.
"Preparing for survival."
"Same thing, really." He watched me work the blade. "You're not scared."
"Terrified, actually."
"You don't show it."
"I've had practice."
Jack was quiet for a moment. The sounds of the ship surrounded us—sailors running rope, officers shouting orders, the creak of wood and canvas.
"In the cave," he said finally, "I need you close. You see curses, you said. You understand how they work."
"I see them. Understanding is... partial."
"Partial is more than most." Jack's voice dropped. "Barbossa's ritual requires Will's blood. If the curse breaks while I'm not in position—"
"Position for what?"
"I need leverage over Barbossa. Something that lets me bargain for the Pearl." His eyes glittered in the moonlight. "When the curse breaks, he becomes mortal. When he's mortal, he can die. But I need to be the one who determines when that mortality becomes fatal."
The pistol, I remembered. One shot, saved for ten years. Jack shoots Barbossa after becoming briefly cursed himself.
But I couldn't say that. Couldn't reveal that I knew the story's ending.
"What do you need from me?"
"Your eyes. Watch the curse. Tell me when it's about to break." Jack's voice was serious—more serious than I'd ever heard him. "Tell me the exact moment everything changes."
"I can do that."
"Good." He clapped my shoulder. "Then let's go save young Mr. Turner."
The boats lowered into black water at midnight.
Six marines, fully armed. Elizabeth, grim and determined. Jack, his theatrical manner subdued into something more dangerous. And me, knife in hand, precognition humming at the edges of my awareness.
The approach was silent. Oars dipped without splash. The island loomed ahead—dark, forbidding, wrong in ways I could feel in my bones.
My Curse Sight flickered to life as we drew closer. Even from the water, I could see it—the golden chains of the Aztec curse, pulsing like a heartbeat, concentrated on a single point deep within the caves.
"Movement on the cliffs," I murmured to the marine beside me. "Three men. Maybe four."
He looked at me sharply. "How can you—"
"Just trust me."
The marine didn't trust me, but he relayed the information to Norrington's lead officer. They adjusted course, avoiding the watchful eyes above.
This is it, I thought as the boat scraped stone. The climax. Everything I've survived has led here.
We moved into the caves like ghosts.
Somewhere deeper inside, Will Turner awaited sacrifice. Somewhere deeper inside, Barbossa prepared to break a curse.
And somewhere between here and there, immortal pirates guarded passages with weapons that could kill me—temporarily—without consequence.
I gripped my knife tighter.
The golden light of the treasure chamber beckoned from the darkness ahead.
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