52 - The Chalices

Support me on Patreon Please

https://Patreon.com/rez540

-----------

Wes conjured a phantom, a layered illusion so intricate that even the lingering traces of magic were imperceptible. In the next heartbeat, his true form slipped through reality itself, reappearing on the deck with an eerie, soundless arrival.

The air distorted around him, shimmering like a heatwave, before his silhouette solidified in front of Jack Sparrow's wide, startled eyes. The pirate captain, who had faced storms, sirens, and sea monsters, found his breath caught in his throat at the sight. His pulse hammered against his ribs, his body tensing as though he had just witnessed a ghost walk out of the depths of hell.

"Bloody hell!" Jack Sparrow gasped, his hands flying to his face. In his startled frenzy, he yanked at his beard, tearing free a few strands. He barely noticed the sting.

"Let's go," Wes said flatly, his voice devoid of emotion, yet carrying an undeniable authority that sent an involuntary shiver down Jack's spine.

"Aye, aye, wizard!" Jack Sparrow scrambled to the helm, his boots skidding against the damp wood of the deck. His fingers trembled as he gripped the rudder, still rattled by the sorcerer's sudden reappearance.

Zandi, standing nearby, watched in rigid silence. Her pulse raced, her skin clammy despite the humid sea air. Every instinct screamed at her to keep her distance from Wes, as though she were standing in the presence of something far beyond human comprehension. Unconsciously, she reached out, gripping Jack's arm tightly, seeking reassurance in the only familiar thing within her reach.

Jack, still recovering, let out a strained chuckle. "Good thing I didn't listen to you and run, love. He bloody well teleports." His voice was uneven, the bravado forced.

"I… I didn't expect it either," Angelica admitted, her grip tightening around his sleeve. Her knuckles turned white, her nails digging into his shirt. The sensation of Wes's magic still lingered in the air like an invisible weight pressing against her chest. It was suffocating.

Jack exhaled, finally regaining some of his composure. He placed a hand over Angelica's and squeezed gently. "I know you meant well, darling. But let's stick to my way, hmm?" His voice had softened, but there was an edge to it, a quiet plea to trust him.

She nodded hesitantly, but her eyes lingered on Wes. He was standing motionless, his gaze locked on the horizon as though he were already seeing beyond it. The weight of his presence alone was enough to make the air feel heavier, as if he were an entity rather than a man.

The ship rocked gently as the wind filled its sails, carrying them away from White Hat Bay, toward the mysterious island where legend spoke of the undying spring. The waves crashed against the hull with steady force, each impact like a drumbeat heralding the beginning of their perilous journey.

Hours later, another ship sliced through the waters, its black sails billowing like the wings of a beast of prey. Queen Anne's Revenge had arrived at White Hat Bay.

Blackbeard stood at the bow, his piercing gaze scanning the wreckage littering the shoreline. The shattered remnants of boats, the ice that still clung to the sea in unnatural formations—he needed no further proof.

"They were here," he murmured, his voice a deep growl that sent a ripple of unease through his crew. "And they took the mermaid."

The declaration settled over them like a curse. The crew exchanged uneasy glances, but none dared to speak.

Then, a ripple broke the water's surface.

From the depths, a dozen mermaids emerged, their beauty marred by fury. Their shimmering scales reflected the moonlight, but their eyes burned with vengeance. They let out a haunting, unearthly wail before surging toward Queen Anne's Revenge with the wrath of the sea itself.

A lesser crew might have panicked, but these were Blackbeard's men—seasoned, ruthless, and ready. Muskets were raised. Cannons were loaded. The air crackled with tension.

But Blackbeard had no patience for this.

His sword flashed in the moonlight as he slashed through the air. A roaring explosion erupted from the figurehead of his ship, spewing flames into the sea like the breath of a dragon. Fire spread across the water's surface, engulfing the closest mermaids. Their agonized screams echoed across the bay, a sound so harrowing that even the pirates hesitated.

But Blackbeard did not.

"Move, you dogs!" he thundered. "Or do you want to join them?"

The crew jolted into action, pushing the ship forward. The sea behind them churned with the dying cries of the mermaids, their bodies consumed by the relentless fire. A few who survived disappeared into the depths, their vengeance now buried beneath fear.

Queen Anne's Revenge disappeared into the night, leaving nothing but smoldering wreckage in its wake.

Meanwhile, deep within the jungle of the mysterious island, Wes, Jack Sparrow, and Angelica pressed forward.

The heat was suffocating, thick and oppressive. Every breath tasted of damp earth and decay. Insects buzzed incessantly, their high-pitched droning a constant assault on the ears. Twisting vines and thick foliage obscured the path, forcing Jack to hack his way through with his cutlass, each strike sending beads of sweat flying from his brow.

"This would be easier if you used magic, mate," Jack grumbled, swatting a mosquito that had just feasted on his neck. "You wizards are supposed to be all-powerful, yeah? Maybe conjure up a nice, paved road for us?"

Angelica was drenched in sweat, her dark hair clinging to her face in damp strands. Every step felt heavier, the jungle's humidity pressing against her like a second skin. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, but she forced herself to keep moving.

Wes, however, was untouched by discomfort. His robes remained dry, his steps effortless. But it wasn't just the heat that avoided him—so did the jungle itself.

The creatures of the island, the serpents slithering beneath the leaves, the insects swarming in the air, even the foliage itself—none dared approach him.

It was due to the robe he was wearing. The robe made of the basilisk's skin carried the scent of the basilisk, unnoticeable by most.

Jack frowned, noticing how the plants subtly bent away from Wes as he walked, creating a natural path where there had been none. "Well, that's unsettling."

Wes didn't answer. He merely raised a hand, whispering something in a language neither Jack nor Zandi understood.

The jungle responded immediately.

The vines unwound. The branches parted. The way ahead became clear.

Jack sheathed his cutlass. "See, mate? If you'd done that earlier, we'd be at the bloody treasure already."

Soon, they reached a crumbling cliffside. A rickety, long-abandoned rope bridge dangled before them, its wooden planks long since claimed by time.

Jack took one look and scoffed. "Nope."

Before he could say another word, Wes whispered a floating spell. Instantly, the three of them lifted off the ground.

Jack sighed. "I'll never get used to this."

Angelica, however, screamed as they soared above the jungle, her voice echoing through the trees. Flocks of startled birds took to the sky.

They landed safely on the other side, where the ruins of an ancient ship loomed before them—Santiago, the lost vessel of Juan Ponce de León.

Jack grinned. "All the treasure in the world, just waiting for me."

But Wes wasn't here for gold.

With a wave of his hand, the ship trembled. A deep, hollow sound echoed from within.

Then—

Two gleaming Chalices shot from the wreckage, landing perfectly in Wes's outstretched hands.