"You know," Daniel said with a small smile, "your question is actually perfectly reasonable."
Elizabeth blinked. "It is?"
"It is," he replied. "And as for proof—don't worry. You'll see it soon enough."
He turned and started walking away, waving casually over his shoulder. "Until then, just enjoy the sea ride."
Elizabeth watched him go, uncertainty settling in her chest.
She had already been confused about who Daniel was. Now, somehow, that confusion had only deepened.
***
On the Black Pearl's side, the journey had reached its end.
Towering cliffs rose on all sides, sealing the island away from the rest of the sea. The water grew unnaturally still, as if even the ocean itself avoided the place.
Barbossa stood at the bow, hands resting on the rail.
"We've arrived," he said calmly.
The crew moved at once. Boats were lowered.
The prisoner—the man they believed to be Bootstrap Bill Turner's son—was dragged forward. He struggled weakly, fear written plainly on his face, but the pirates barely paid him any mind. To them, he was no longer a person—only a means to an end.
"Easy now," one of them said, tightening his grip. "You're about to make history."
They hauled the prisoner into a longboat and rowed toward the caves of the island.
The boat scraped against stone, and the pirates climbed out, dragging the prisoner with them.
They moved deeper into the cave, boots crunching over scattered coins and loose stone, until the passage opened into the inner chamber.
The cave opened into a wide inner chamber.
Gold and treasure were scattered everywhere—coins, ornaments, weapons—piled carelessly as if value had long since lost its meaning.
Light filtered down through cracks in the ceiling, illuminating a low stone mound at the center of the cavern. Gold covered it completely.
At the top of the mound rested a small chest.
The Aztec chest.
The sight drew quiet smiles from the pirates.
Barbossa stepped forward and gestured to two of them. They dragged the prisoner ahead as Barbossa climbed the mound and stopped before the chest, looking down at it with familiar patience.
"Do you know what this is?" Barbossa asked, pulling the gold coin from the prisoner's neck.
The man shook his head. "No."
"This," Barbossa said evenly, holding it up, "is Aztec gold."
He turned, pacing slowly as the torchlight glinted off the treasure surrounding them.
"One of eight hundred and eighty-two identical pieces, delivered in a stone chest to Cortez himself. Blood money—paid to stop the slaughter he inflicted upon them with his armies."
Barbossa stopped at the chest.
"But Cortez's greed was insatiable," he continued. "So the heathen gods placed a curse upon the gold."
The cave was silent now.
"Any mortal who removes even a single piece from this chest," Barbossa said, lifting the lid slightly, "is punished for eternity."
A pirate laughed dryly. "Didn't believe in ghost stories then, did we?"
"No," Barbossa said. "Neither did I."
A few pirates chuckled darkly.
"We spent it. Traded it. Drank it away. Wasted it on food and pleasure." Barbossa's voice hardened. "But the drink did not satisfy. Food turned to ash in our mouths. And no amount of pleasure could ease the hunger."
He looked back at the prisoner.
"We are cursed men," Barbossa said. "Driven by greed, and now consumed by it."
He held the coin out.
"There is only one way to end the curse. Every piece of Aztec gold must be returned. And the blood must be repaid."
For a moment, the cave was silent.
Then—
"That's it!" one pirate shouted.
"The last coin!"
Cheers erupted through the cave.
"Tonight's the night!"
"No more curse!"
Barbossa smiled slowly.
"Do it."
One of the pirates stepped forward and grabbed the prisoner's arm. The blade flashed, slicing across his palm. The man cried out, wincing as blood spilled down his hand.
Barbossa pried the Aztec coin from his grip and pressed it into the bleeding palm.
"Hold it," he ordered.
He forced the prisoner's hand over the stone chest. Blood dripped onto the gold as Barbossa pushed the coin down among the others.
It clinked softly as it fell into place.
For a moment—nothing.
Barbossa straightened and closed his eyes, breathing in slowly, as if waiting to feel something change.
Around him, the pirates murmured, excitement rising.
"We're free!"
"The curse is broken!"
Ragetti leaned forward, eyes wide. "Did it work?"
Pintel frowned, rolling his shoulders. "I don't feel any—"
BANG.
The gunshot echoed through the cave.
Pintel staggered back, a hole torn clean through his chest.
The pirates froze.
Pintel looked down at himself, then up again, confused. He poked the wound with a finger.
"…I don't feel anything different."
Silence fell.
Slowly, realization spread across the crew.
One by one, they turned toward Barbossa.
Barbossa lowered the pistol and stared at the prisoner, fury burning behind his eyes. He seized the man by the throat and hauled him forward.
"What is your father's name?" Barbossa demanded. "Why didn't your blood work?"
The prisoner choked, terror flooding his face. "I—I don't know!"
Barbossa tightened his grip. "Is your last name Turner?"
"No!" the man cried. "It's not Turner!"
Barbossa snarled, shaking the prisoner violently. "Then why did you lie? Why did you have this coin?"
The man sobbed, barely able to breathe. "I—I was told to! I didn't know what it was—I swear!"
*****
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