Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The skies above are tinted gray by heavy clouds, the prelude to a storm. Sora only spares them a few moments before directing his gaze down, to another young man watching the bleak skies.

Xehanort stands at the edge of a small beach, jutting out just a few dozen yards from a massive cliff face. Curious, Sora sidles himself to the right of his predecessor Keybearer, hoping to get a look at the man’s eyes. All the better to read his emotional state. By the time he’s got a good view, the water is up to his ankles, though in the strange ghost state in which he always exists in these dreams, he doesn’t feel the least bit wet.

The silver-haired man’s expression is one of hardened determination. One hand reaches into the pouch of his belt, sagging a bit against his left hip. It looks to Sora as if Xehanort is making a decision. A tough one, most likely.

He finally pulls his hand from the pouch, revealing the odd blue star-shaped device Sora had seen in an earlier dream. As if prompted by its appearance, a burst of lightning from overhead throws a bright shimmer over its crystalline surface.

“That’ll be it, then?”

Sora and Xehanort both look to the source of the call. Balthier walks down the beach toward them, his expression neutral except for one slightly raised eyebrow.

“I have to go now, Balthier,” Xehanort says, voice as hard as the expression he wears. “I can’t explain the feeling, but time is running out.” He shakes his head. “We might have made a mistake. I might have.”

“That’s always a possibility, my friend,” the pirate agrees. He’s reached the young man now, standing in front of him with both thumbs casually hooked into is own belt. “But I think it was a mistake worth making. Whether or not she was truly aligned with your Chernabog or not, Calypso’s capture puts control of the seas in the hands of men for the first time.”

“If there are still seas remaining,” Xehanort counters with a bitter frown. He spares a quick look over his shoulder. “That’s why I’m going. Whatever Bikke’s fleet manages to accomplish against you today, there soon might not be any of this world left to fight over.”

Balthier calmly takes in the young Keybearer’s speech, one hand briefly worrying at the strap of one of his pouches. Sora expects to see anger on his face, or maybe disappointment. But the pirate simply smiles, soft and sad.

“Is that how you’re playing it, then?” he says, oddly bemused. “The leading man leaves the stage before the final scene, hoping to escape the curtain.”

“I already told you, friend,” Xehanort replies stoically. “My role is merely to pass between the stories of others. And to be frank, I know how this one will end. Whether your nascent pirate alliance survives or not.”

Balthier sighs. “Ah, my friend. How can you ever expect to find the connections you search for if you aren’t willing to fight for them? You say this overpowering doom is coming, that you have no recourse or means to fight. But think of what you can do. Fight the battle that you can see coming, and maybe save some of the friends you’ve made in these past few days.”

“Only to see them sink into Darkness?” Xehanort scoffs, shaking his head. “The battle you are about to fight is meaningless, Balthier. Leading man or supporting player or even villain, everyone in this world will be gone by day’s end.”

The pirate is silent for another long minute, all good cheer or hope gone from his face and body. “Very well, then.” He steps up to Xehanort, offering the young man a hand. The Keybearer reaches back, shaking it. “Good luck on your voyage, wherever it may take you next. Hopefully, it will be some place that you can save.”

“Yes,” Xehanort agrees, moving his gaze from his friend to the sudden flash of a lightning strike in the sky. “I hope it is too.”

KH-KH-KH

In the rising light of dawn, the combined fleet of the Brethren Court is truly a sight to behold. Dozens of vessels of every model and configuration, crewed by hundreds of pirates ready to fight for freedom. Or at least to run away.

At least, it would be a sight if not for the thick fog that has settled over the sea. It’s nothing more serious than a little morning mist, but it gives Sora an uncomfortable feeling of being closed in on all sides. Or maybe it isn’t the mist at all, but rather the knowledge of what he’s about to face. The Keybearer has been in his fair share of scrapes against dangerous and powerful opponents, but he’s only ever once been involved in something that could be reasonably considered a war. It had been a brutal experience.

“We got incoming, everybody! Straight ahead!”

In the stillness of the shrouded morning, Azlyn’s cry from the crow’s nest high above is crisp and clear. As the Flying Dutchman and Maleficent’s Heartless ship emerge from the dissipating fog, everyone on deck aboard the Black Pearl howl their triumphant defiance. The usual crewmates, Barbossa and Faris, plus Azlyn’s Singapore crew stand as one, many drawing weapons and rattling them bravely. Sora has Kingdom Key in hand in moments, holding his weapon high and bellowing wordlessly. It feels good, defiant, especially with a thousand other voices joining with his.

The feeling lasts for only a few precious seconds before the surrounding mists fade in the light of the risen sun. Instead of the handful of ships that had appeared to be up against them, hundreds of vessels, Heartless ships equally commingled with sturdy wooden ships flying the Tycoon flag. Suddenly, the Brethren Fleet’s confidence and bravado blow away with a guts of sudden wind.

The deck of the Black Pearl goes silent. More than a few members of the crew glare at Jack and Faris, the architects of their current plan. Faris betrays nothing, stoic as ever, but Jack’s Adam’s apple visibly bobs up and down on his throat.

The captain manages to stuff down most of his nerves and face the glares, looking merely sheepish rather than truly afraid. “Um, parley?”

KH-KH-KH

The early morning fog has been driven completely away by the risen sun, leaving clear blue skies and perfect visibility as the leaders of the opposing fleets convene for pre-battle negotiations. A small sandbar, half a mile long and maybe a third of that wide, serves as the neutral ground. Faris, Jack, Sora, and Barbossa approach from the west, while Maleficent awaits them from the east, flanked on either side by Davy Jones and her prisoner, Riku. At least, it looks like Riku, black thorns shot through with red veins holding his forearms together.

“I honestly don’t think you’re lame enough to to try and trick us,” Sora says, holding back his utter elation at seeing his friend alive and pretty much unharmed. “But just in case…”

“Just a few weeks ago, Azlyn and I nearly came to blows over a cookie,” Riku declares, his annoyance at having to prove himself like this infusing every word. “Turned out, Telary had eaten it.”

The Keybearer nods. “Yeah, that did happen.” He doesn’t go so far as to let out a sigh of relief, but some tension visibly drains from his body. “So you’re really Riku, then.”

“It would hardly be worth the trouble to attempt such a juvenile trick,” Maleficent says before the young man can reply.

“Then why the hell would you give up your hostage like this?” Barbossa asks, frowning in confusion. “Do you want one of us for him?”

The jade-skinned woman smiles. “This is beyond you and your world’s petty problems, pirate. The relationship…”

“Uh, do you have to call it that?” Riku interrupts, looking genuinely sickly.

“The relationship,” Maleficent continues, obviously enjoying the young man’s discomfort, “between Riku and I goes back years, to his earliest days beyond his own island. To have him at my mercy is no disappointment, but not enough. When I conquer all worlds and have the supreme power I crave, I want him to watch it happen, knowing that he did everything in his power to try and stop me, fought my forces at every opportunity, and he still failed.”

Riku’s shoots the witch his most contemptuous look, his lips twitching for just a moment as he searches for a proper verbal response. In the end, he just leaves it at the look and starts marching across the sand.

“If there’s nothing else pressing to speak of,” Jack chimes in, quickly catching Davy Jones’ eye before flicking his gaze away, “and not to give the impression that I really care, but where is old Beckett? Unless he’s been hiding behind your fetching cloak this entire time.”

Maleficent and Jones share a quick look, both looking quite satisfied at hearing the question.

“Lord Beckett is being prepared for another, most important, duty at this time,” the witch replies, her smirk growing with every word. “A high honor, but one he is certainly deserving of. As it so happens, without him we would have had considerably more trouble finding the Brethren’s little clubhouse.”

Sora can feel Barbossa tense up. “What could you mean by that? That rat would be without a doubt the last being on the face of this world who might have that information.”

“Well,” Jack interjects in a higher voice than usual, stepping into his former mutineer’s line of sight with one finger raised, “he is nothing if nor persistent and skilled at gathering information.”

“Jack…” Faris says, annoyed and resigned all at once.

“We didn’t come here to trade for a hostage,” Davy Jones declares, speaking for the first time at this gathering and clearly loving what he’s got to say. “We came to make sure justice was done.”

The mutated captain holds up his crab claw, opening it slightly and releasing a small item to swing freely in the air. Everyone assembled immediately recognizes the displayed object: Jack’s compass.

“You fool,” Barbossa hisses. Jack prefers that reaction to Faris’s, the woman captain merely turning her face away from him.

Sora’s response is equally devastating, actual tears beginning to form within his blue eyes. “Oh, Jack. How could you?”

“Why would you?” Riku adds, not nearly as emotionally invested. Of course, he’s had much more time to process this betrayal.

Davy Jones lets forth a hearty laugh, too busy with that to properly reply.

So Maleficent, always a fan of sowing despair, says, “No doubt some foolhardy deal with Beckett. Safe passage from this conflict, perhaps? I suppose it doesn’t really matter though, does it?”

“No,” Faris answers, her voice quiet and steely. “I don’t suppose it does.” Before Jack can do more than open his mouth to start defending himself, she quickly and contemptuously smacks him hard across the face.

He goes down hard, on all fours in the sand.

“I declare you a traitor to the Brethren Court, Jack Sparrow, and sentence you to exile from all ships sailing under its banner. As Pirate King, I do so declare it done.”

“A hundred years aboard the Dutchman,” Jones snarls down at the pitiful man, “is what I’ll consider a good start!”

That’s enough for Sora. The Keybearer leaps in front of the prone Jack, Kingdom Key held defensively across his body. “No, no way! I won’t…”

The loud click of a pistol’s hammer being pulled back interrupts the Keybearer’s righteous protest, Faris holding her weapon up at the back of his spiky head. Riku swears aloud and tries to react, but with his body still confined by the thorny shackles he only manages to stumble forward a few steps, almost blundering right into Barbossa’s drawn blade.

Across the sand, Maleficent and Jones watch the heroes’ consternation like a couple enjoying a night at the theater.

“Faris, c’mon!” Sora protests, trying to get his head out of the way of the pistol’s mouth. No matter how fast, though, the Pirate Lord’s weapon is always there. “This is Jack we’re talking about, you can’t just…”

“Oh, I do believe that we can,” Barbossa argues. “This is Brethren Court business, lad, and she is the king.”

Sora scowls. “I didn’t sign anything! And besides, if it weren’t for Jack…”

“Sora.”

Everyone looks down to the ground, where Jack had recovered enough to sit up. The pirate looks at the Keybearer, his expression totally calm and steady.

“No help for it, mate,” Jack continues, rising to his feet. His eyes remain locked on Sora’s, some familiar twinkle in them. “This ain’t the opportune moment for your usual heroism.”

The righteous fury falls from Sora’s expression. Something else is going on here, but he has no idea exactly what it is. After a few moments of quiet deliberation, he decides that it’s for the best that the more advanced schemers have a better grasp on the situation than him.

“Maybe,” he eventually allows. He turns quickly, knocking Barbossa back a few steps before slicing through Riku’s restraints. “I’m… sorry that it had to be this way, Jack.”

The pirate chuckles. “Aye, that makes two of us. Give my explanations to Azlyn and Telary, eh?”

Sora nods. “Sure thing, Captain.”

“A very touching farewell for the traitorous scum,” Barbossa remarks, totally deadpan. “And yes, I know that it takes one to know one. Now get to walking, Sparrow.”

“This is what you chose, Jack,” Faris says, the pair staring each other down. “Now you have to live with it.”

Without another word, only a nod of acknowledgment and farewell, Jack Sparrow turns away and walks into the arms of his enemies. He tries offering a charming smile to Maleficent, but the witch only rolls her eyes dismissively, directing the pirate to stand between her and Davy Jones. He does so, studiously avoiding the mutated captain’s smug gaze.

“A question for you, Jack Sparrow,” Jones murmurs to his prisoner. “Do you fear death?”

Jack’s grimace only deepens. “You have no idea.”

“Well this was certainly dramatic,” Maleficent declares, still smirking. “But we come now to its end. There are but two courses now, and two consequences: raise blade and cannon against us and you shall all die. Or perhaps consider a surrender, in which case I can promise that only most of you will die.”

Faris steps closer, eye hard and expression pure defiant fury. “There will be no surrender, and no quarter given. We will fight, and you will die.” She turns on her heel and begins walking up the beach, the others falling in behind her without a word.

“Faris…” Sora starts to say, stepping quickly to get beside the Pirate King. He’s cut off immediately by a look. It takes only a moment for the Keybearer to realize just what it means. “Oh,” he mutters to himself in a low voice.

Faris doesn’t react to his murmurs, her eyes fixed ahead and yet seeing something else entirely…

14 HOURS EARLIER…

As he stands and watches the loud bellowing and cheers of his fellow Pirate Lords, Jack Sparrow cannot help but smirk. Not just at the success of his simple yet brilliant plan, or at the way those denouncing a war as foolish not two minutes ago are now cheering for its declaration. Not even just at the scowl on Barbossa’s craggy face. All of those things contribute of course, but something else, more intangible, about the way they are all weaving together into this moment, brings a smile to Jack’s face.

Even the glare he can feel being aimed at the doesn’t take anything away. After a few seconds to show he’s not intimidated (now that he’s gotten used to the old code keeper being in the same room), Jack turns to face Teague, smile still firmly in place.

“Surely you don’t begrudge a young man taking in the satisfaction of a successful political ploy?” he says cheerily, swaying closer to the sitting pirate. “I mean, it’s a feeling you must at least be passing familiar with. After all, you’ve been everywhere, seen everything. And you survived it all. That’s what it all comes down to, isn’t it? The great trick of it. Surviving?”

Teague sighs, decades of world weariness in the sound. Placing his guitar to the side, he stands and moves to look Jack straight in the eye.

“Oh, Jackie,” he says. “The trick isn’t living forever, my boy. It’s living with yourself forever.”

Jack doesn’t say anything for a few moments, contemplating the older man’s wisdom. They can’t help but bring to mind his imprisonment in Davy Jones’ Locker, the landlocked ship crewed by dozens of Jack Sparrows. Self-esteem has never been his problem in any way, but maybe even that isn’t quite what Teague is getting at…

Suddenly, Jack Sparrow realizes that he has a question of his own. “So… How’s mum?”

Teague smiles at that, reaching into the pocket of his crimson coat. He proudly produces a shrunken, shriveled head secured on a thick rope. It’s gone green with age, hair looking more like straw than anything natural. Two fairly thick wooden spikes secured in her lips.

“Ah,” Jack says, understandably freaked out by the sight. “She looks… great!”

His father chuckles, putting his memento away. “Maybe that’s another trick: making sure you’ve got the right partner by your side.” He gives his son a sly smile, nodding toward something over Jack’s shoulder. When the Pirate Lord turns to look, he finds Faris approaching him. With a less than entirely hostile look on her face, for a welcome change.

“You’re welcome,” is his opener, Jack’s eyes scanning the woman’s face for any hint of the old, reflexive contempt. There’s nothing. Scarily enough, Faris cracks a smile.

“I doubt you’ll believe me on this, but that actually was the correct response to what I was going to say,” the new Pirate King informs him, stopping a respectable distance away. “This is… well, thank you, Jack.”

Actually hearing those words from her mouth is entirely surreal. It feels like something he should have imagined once or twice, but thought too impossible an idea to even entertain.

“Wasn’t anybody else in the running who I thought was qualified,” he replies, shrugging. Not with his usual smoothness, more a wild jerk of the muscle. “If we’re going to proceed with such a damned fool plan, may as well try and give it the best chance.”

Faris nods. “It’s a long shot, to be sure. Though things will become substantially simpler once the Flying Dutchman is no longer an obstacle.”

“Oi, good luck with that one. I…”

“Don’t be coy, Jack,” the Pirate King interrupts. “I know why you’re so keen to fight all of the sudden. Why you deliberately left Beckett that compass.”

He can’t help the wince. And things had been going so well…

An amused chuckle from Faris throws him completely for a loop. “There’s no need for that, Jack. If you hadn’t, I would have.”

“You… would have?”

“Yes,” Faris confirms, stepping closer to make sure their conversation remains private. “The Lords were gathering, but I’ve learned a thing or two about these people. The threats against us must be dealt with swiftly and forcefully. Given anything but a direct, imminent threat to them all, the Brethren Court would never have agreed to fight.”

“Not really the pirate’s way,” Jack replies absently, still trying to absorb the information being presented to him. Once he thinks he has, he manages to find his voice again. There’s just one thing on his mind. “You really are magnificent!”

“I had a good teacher.”

“I believe that’s my line, dear.”

“There was something I was thinking of, back in the afterworld,” Faris continues without acknowledging his quip. “Something I hadn’t allowed myself to consider in the intervening years.” She looks at Jack steadily. “We had good times together, didn’t we?”

The grin is involuntary. “Oh, the best love. Better than they had any right to be.”

“That is the paradox of life, is it not?” the Pirate King muses. “It was a low point for both of us, and yet…” She shakes her head fondly. “I thought I had moved on before, but I think it’s only true now. I needed to see you again. To… to be reminded.”

“And, let’s be honest, to get even with me,” Jack says, sincere instead of teasing. “We’ve both done each other wrong, and now it’s time to make up for it by doing a kindness.”

Faris doesn’t need a mast to fall on her. “You want your chance to stab the heart.”

“Aye. Tomorrow we’ll start off our little war with a nice parley. I imagine Beckett or one of his friends will think it a grand time to ‘reveal’ my totally expected treachery.”

“I should be able to feign suitable outrage,” Faris says, easily picking up the threads of Jack’s story.

He grins. “Oh, shouldn’t be too difficult. You’ll want Sora there, blissfully ignorant. I imagine his reaction will help really sell it. But if the offer includes the return of his prematurely silver friend, I think he’ll see reason before knocking your head off with that giant key of his.”

“To be honest, it’s the blonde I find most worrying,” Faris remarks. “Given how often she speaks of her revulsion towards you, I imagine you’re secretly quite dear to her heart.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Jack says with a snort. “That girl’s Lordship wasn’t quite the accident it seemed. She’ll have the scheme worked out only moments after noticing my absence. Her husband shan’t be far behind.”

With their cover story and its possible emanations set, the pirate pair fall into silence. Both just look at each other, awaiting whoever will begin their next topic of conversation. For perhaps the first time since they reunited, there’s no real tension in the air. Jack allows himself to fall back into Teague’s chair, enjoying the fact that the faint aroma of his father’s favorite tobacco lingers in the air around it.

“You are certain about this?” Faris asks, pursing her lips. “Stabbing the heart, becoming the Dutchman’s captain.”

“My friends,” Jack replies, pausing a moment for a deep breath, “are dead. Will Turner and Elizabeth Swan were, present company excluded, the two most alive people I ever knew. The most worthy of life. They had a future on their horizon, a chance to make that fairy tale life come true. And they are dead, Faris.”

“With each other,” the other interjects.

“Bloody hooray, I am genuinely happy for them. But I won’t end up like that. There’s nothing half so pleasant awaiting me on the other side. Don’t forget, I caught a glimpse of what’s to come. And it was hell, beyond almost anything I could imagine.”

Faris nods. “No sea, no wind.”

“And only me,” Jack says. “A bloody legion of Jack Sparrows.”

“Dear god.”

“Anything’s better than that, Faris. Anything. If it means I won’t return to that wretched place, I’ll do it.”

The Pirate King nods, taking in the new information. She’d half-wondered if there was more to Jack’s sojourn in the locker than he had said.

“Something occurs to me. You may be alive as the Dutchman’s captain, Jack,” she finally says, her voice almost a whisper, “but I fear you may end up finding yourself just as alone. Remember the conditions. Ten years at sea, and but one on land.”

Jack twitches, frowning. Is that all he’s doing here, staving off one hell with another?

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I’ll still be…”

“And a duty to uphold,” Faris continues her thought without regard for Jack’s muttered input. “The ferrying of souls dead at sea to their proper rest. Seems the kind of thing that, properly done, would take quite a lot of time. You could ignore it, I suppose, but then I don’t imagine you’d fancy having a tentacle beard…”

“So there are a few conditions,” Jack says, waving a dismissive hand. “But I’ve always done what I had to to survive.” He looks at her, standing. “Besides, if I ever find myself troubled at the notion of duty, I think I may be able to recollect an example of its proper spirit of execution.”

Faris takes the flattery with a smile. “Very well, then. As long as you’ve considered the angles properly.”

“When have you known me not to?”

“You should know something, before we part,” the Pirate King says, stepping closer and looking Jack in the eye. “It relates to what you just said, about having an example. After I had finally confirmed my sister’s death, seen my greatest failure play out before my eyes, I stood in the fort, waiting for something. A feeling I had been dreading for a long time, which I had known since setting out on my quest would be inevitable if I failed: the feeling of wanting to die.

“But do you know something, Jack? That feeling never came. Even in my lowest moment, consumed by shame and despair, I still wanted to live. And I think now I can admit to myself that it’s because of you that I did. You showed me how valuable life can be, even in the midst of such a great loss. As long as I have a reason, something to drive me forward, I never want to give up on life.”

She moves even closer, taking Jack’s hand in hers. “So I will help you, Jack. And if you can follow my example as I follow yours, and carry out the duty Calypso entrusted with Davy Jones, then perhaps you may find yourself some company on that rare, once a decade day on land.”

He looks straight into her eyes, seeing the honesty and sincerity that he knows are always within. She looks back, finding something she’d never known could be found. The pair hold those gazes for long moments, the only sounds to be heard their twin heartbeats, perfectly matched in time.

Then, without anything further said or done, they pull away.

KH-KH-KH

By the time they reach the Black Pearl, Sora has transferred the majority of his frustration from Faris to Jack. Still, he knows that this Davy Jones thing seems to be what his pirate friend really wants, and that if there are doubts, Jack has plenty of time to give into them.

“He found a way onto the Dutchman,” Azlyn smugly says, and there’s no mistaking it for a question. “Probably led the whole damned armada here just to get his chance.” She shakes her head. “Say whatever else you want about him, the guy gets what he wants.”

Telary is shaking his head as well, the movement not quite conveying the same emotion as his wife’s. “Let’s just hope the rest of his plan works out as well.” He turns to Riku. “Glad to have you back, and I’m going to need to give you a little examination.”

The silver-haired young man raises an eyebrow. “Will I have to take my pants off?”

“Only if you want to,” Telary replies with a half-grin. “But no, I just want to to make sure Maleficent didn’t leave any nasty curses or traps or hypnotic suggestions on you.”

Leaving his friends to it, Sora moves to where Barbossa and Faris are having a… discussion.

“And I am the bloody Pirate King!” the woman declares forcefully. Pintel and Ragetti, the rest of the argument’s audience, flinch behind Barbossa. Their captain doesn’t react on the slightest.

“Which means that if you don’t go along with my idea, and I do it anyway, your authority looks undermined,” he says, smug as ever. “And I will be doing it.”

Faris’s consternation remains visible for a few more heartbeats, until suddenly something seems to come to mind. “You can try all you like, but you aren’t getting her without using him.”

Sora frowns as she gestures towards him with her thumb. “Uh, yeah! Um, what are you two actually talking about.”

“The time has come,” Barbossa declares before Faris can say anything. “The odds are not in our favor. The only way to even the field of battle is by summoning Calypso.”

“Oh,” Sora says, nodding. “Yeah, I was thinking about that last night, actually.” He shoots Faris a nervous grin, sheepishly rubbing at his hair spikes with one hand. “And y’know, considering that the whole sealing thing was done on, y’know, false pretenses and everything…”

“Very just thinking of you, lad,” Barbossa says with a grin, while in the background Faris makes a disparaging remark about the Keybearer’s parentage.

“I’m certain the most chaotic being to ever call this world home will be just so grateful for your mercy,” the Pirate King snarls.

“Maleficent wants her dead,” Sora argues. “And I’m pretty sure that becomes much harder, maybe even impossible, if she’s fully powered. I’m willing to bet that Tia Dalma will be grateful.” A thought occurs to him, persuasive but also a pretty low blow. “Besides, I bet it would really distract Davy Jones if his lady joined the battle on our side. Could give Jack his best opportunity to complete his mission.”

Faris shoots him a withering look. “How transparent of you, Sora.” She sighs. “Fine, fine. We release Calypso, and may the god, literally, have mercy on our souls.”

Tia Dalma exits the Pearl’s hold with her head held high, looking distant and almost regal, despite the fact that she’s bound in five different ropes. Faris had insisted on the precaution, though Sora isn’t sure what good exactly it’s supposed to do. The sealed goddess continues to say nothing, head held high, as she is tied to the mast.

“Yeah, this is gonna help her not want to take immediate vengeance on us all,” Riku remarks from where he’s watching with Azlyn and Telary, leaning up against the starboard railing.

Barbossa, Faris, and Sora stand in front of Calypso, the trio enduring her silence and the haughty look on her face. A few steps behind, Ragetti tries to hold the small bowl filled with pieces of eight steady. He’s failing, the nine trinkets rattling inside the shaking container.

“Okay, so how do we go about this?” Faris coldly asks Barbossa.

“We have the Pieces of Eight,” he explains, waving a hand at his shivering minion. “And we have the Keyblade. The invocation is, as I understand it, rather simple. The speaker must simply state ‘Calypso, I release you from your human bonds’.”

Everyone shoots a quick look to the tied down goddess. She smirks back at them, but nothing else happens.

“Maybe you wrote it down wrong?” Azlyn calls from the sidelines. She and Riku share a quick fist bump under the disapproving gaze of Telary, who had flinched rather majorly just a moment ago.

“It must be spoken, they say, as if to a lover,” Barbossa clarifies. Much ooh and ahhing resounds across the ship. “Well boy, d’ya think you can handle that?”

Sora knows he can, actually. It will pain him, that’s a certainty, but he knows just how to say what he needs to. The Keybearer closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, Kairi’s image appearing before him in his mind without any effort. It’s been so long since he’s really seem her, gotten the chance to tell her who she is to him, how much she means.

Sora takes all his longing, and all the years he’s lived knowing that Kairi is the only one for him, and puts them into his next words.

“Calypso,” he says with such tenderness it immediately brings a tear to Pintel’s eye, “I release you from your human bonds.”

The bowl in Ragetti’s hand explodes with a burst of white light. It’s too much for the one-eyed man’s poor nerves, and he lets it go. The Pieces of Eight pay no mind, gravity no longer holding them down. The glowing bric-a-brac flies through the air to hover in front of the bound goddess, forming an image that it takes Faris a moment to recognize is that of a keyhole. Once it is formed, a beam of pure white light shoots from the tip of the Keyblade, streaming through the Pieces of Eight and slamming into Tia Dalma’s chest.

In an instant, Sora is bombarded with images and sounds. A gathering of some kind, nine pirates assembled in a circle with Xehanort in the middle. Another man, rough and tumble but with a certain roguishly handsome charm, stands at the edge of a beach.

A large wave crests the shore, and in its wake is left an exquisitely beautiful woman. Tia Dalma, looking more scrubbed and polished than the Keybearer has ever seen her. She has a look of confusion on her face, and when her eyes behold the man standing next to her she gasps in shock. She shouts something at him, but Sora can’t make out what.

A series of bright flashes light the night as the objects held in the Pirate Lords’ hands burst into bright green light. Xehanort raises Kingdom Key into the air, and the lights from the Pieces of Eight become nine beams, all converging on the Keyblade’s tip. After holding the gathered energy for a brief moment, Xehanort lowers his blade.

Energy shoots across the beach, striking Calypso in the chest. She screams in equal parts agony and defiance, her features twisted in outrage. Sora can just barely see Davy Jones’ lips moving, the words too quiet to hear.

The flashback ends, though Tia Dalma’s anguished cry echoes into the present. It takes Sora a moment to realize that it isn’t an echo at all. The goddess is screaming once more, in the here and now.

It changes quickly, fierce exultation replacing the anguish. That doesn’t last long, and soon an eerie, anticipatory quiet has settled over the Black Pearl’s deck. The only sound that can be clearly heard is Tia Dalma’s steady breathing. All eyes are on her, waiting to see what she’ll do next. For a long series of heartbeats, absolutely nothing happens. The ensnared goddess looks about the ship’s crew, as if she’s waiting for something as well.

Faris steps closer. “Calypso.” The goddess’s eyes snap to her, fierce and feral. “Who was it that showed to Brethren Court how to bind you? Who tricked the Keybearer into sealing you away? Who was it that is truly responsible for your imprisonment?”

Calypso snaps out two heated words, her voice dark and guttural and overlaid with something more powerful than mortals could imagine. “Davy Jones.”

Despite the overwhelming rage and hatred on her face, a single tear falls from the one once called Tia Dalma’s eye. The pain of her lover’s betrayal hits her more powerfully than it has in centuries.

The moment of sorrow passes, and Calypso’s breathing becomes heavy. With each powerful heave of air in and out, the goddess’s mortal body begins to grow, soon reaching dizzying heights. The heavy ropes begin to fray and snap, revealing tantalizing hints of the growing body beneath.

Every mortal on the Pearl’s deck steps back, many crying out in fear and alarm. Riku has his Keyblade in hand, ready for trouble even if he suspects he would find himself outclassed no matter what. Telary, the most mystically attuned man aboard, is nearly suffocating from the thick miasma of magic created by Calypso’s expansion.

Barbossa finds himself having a grand old time. “Calypso, I am your humble servant, the one who released you! My vow is fulfilled, an I call upon your favor now.” The giant woman looks down at him, regarding the pirate as one might an insect they found interesting. “I humbly ask that you turn your power and majesty against those who are our mutual enemy!”

Aside from a faint smirk of amusement, the unleashed goddess says and does nothing for a long moment. Just before Barbossa is about to repeat his invocation, she raises her head to the sky and cries out, eerie and grating words in a language none present knows. Her voice is like a burst of thunder from only a few feet away, powerful and ancient and absolutely terrifying.

But that’s nothing compared to the wordless cry that splits the air a heartbeat later. As everyone is already flinching away from the incredible sound, Calypso gives them yet another reason to fear. At the crescendo of her rage and power, the goddess’s towering body explodes from its human shape into a form more fitting: thousands of small, white crabs.

The crustaceans descend upon the Black Pearl’s deck like a tsunami wave, burying all aboard beneath them. Azlyn, cringing more than she’d ever admit, finds herself semi-sheltered beneath the huddled bodies of Telary and Riku. With all three of them digging in and pooling their strength, they manage to keep their feet despite the sudden gray onslaught. After half a minute that seems to stretch far beyond that objective time, the deck is clear.

A few tiny crabs linger, most if them digging pincers into unlucky pirates. Pintel cringes as he manages to pull one out of his trousers with a sharp tug.

“So, do you think that was her revenge on us?” Azlyn asks, tugging two crabs free from the back of her husband’s coat. “Or are things just getting started?”

“Hopefully the former,” Telary remarks. “Oh, I never even realized the kind of power we’re dealing with here. That was.. that…” He shudders at the fresh memory.

Riku doesn’t pay much attention to the Disney Castle pair, eyes going to where Sora is standing. As horrific as that crab wave was, he might consider if worth it for a glimpse of a gray crustacean clinging to one of his friend’s hair spikes.

Except Sora is not standing where he was for the ceremony. Riku frowns, looking further down the deck to see if the Keybearer was swept that way. After a few visual sweeps with his mouth set in a grimace, he concludes that the younger man is no longer on deck.

“Riku?” Telary asks in puzzlement.

The silver-haired young man doesn’t even hear him, rushing through the crowd and looking over the port railing. He doesn’t see Sora floating in the water either, and there’s no chance the Keybearer wouldn’t be keeping himself afloat if he could.

A hand on his shoulder startles Riku from his intense concentration. Jumping slightly, he looks over his shoulder to find Faris standing there.

“I don’t think he got swept out,” the Pirate King says, shaking her head. “I was the closest to him when the wave hit, and… I can’t be sure, but I think I heard… whispering, or something like that.”

“So, what you’re thinking is…”

Faris nods, looking heavenward. “Wherever Calypso went, I think she took Sora with her.”

Riku’s not sure how to respond to that. He has no doubts that what she says is true, but the why of it baffles him. Is removing Sora from the battlefield some kind of calculated move to ensure the Brethren’s defeat, or something else?

“Okay, I guess I’ll be the one to ask it,” Pintel bellows, drawing everyone’s attention. He points up to the still calm and placid sky. “Is she going to help us out or not?”

The whole crew swivels their heads from the grubby man to the armada awaiting across a few miles of calm sea. Some look to the sky in anticipation of some massive lighting strike, while others turn their gazes downward to look for churning waters and crashing waves. Neither group finds any satisfaction for their expectations.

“So, it was all for nothing!” Tai Huang spits, the rest of Sao Feng’s former crewman making agreeably disgusted noises.

“That armada ain’t gonna sit around forever,” Gibbs adds saltily.

“What should we do now?” Ragetti mutters in a quiet voice, looking timidly at the deck.

Barbossa remains absolutely silent, staring up at the graying sky with an ashen look of total despair. Not even the game chattering of Jack the monkey can draw any response from him. After all the effort he put in, all the grand plans he concocted, is there any reward awaiting him?

Telary, frowning, looks to his wife for… something, even he doesn’t really know. She looks back at him with a helpless shake of his head.

“I know this is the part where I’m supposed to say something incredibly cocky about how many ships I can take on by myself, but…” She pauses, taking a deep, shivering breath. Telary reaches out to hold her hand, and while it helps immensely, it’s not enough by a long shot.

Though she doesn’t know what to say, Faris knows that this is her moment to act. She must do something to rally the pirates who she has conscripted into becoming soldiers. Jack would know what to say in this situation, she guarantees it. But Faris has nothing more to offer than, “It’s not over yet.”

“All but the bleeding, I should think,” Gibbs replies, sighing in resignation. “That armada has us swamped by itself, and with the Heartless and the Dutchman…”

“But we can do something, right?” Riku asks, looking all around for any support.

“At this point, lad,” Barbossa declares with mocking bitterness, “about the only thing we can do is die.”

The cloud of despair that hovered in the air since Calypso’s disappearance falls hard onto the Black Pearl’s crew. In the end, they can’t help but think, Barbossa is right. This, then is the end for them.

But one woman refuses to give in.

“Very well,” Faris says, quiet but easily heard in the stark silence. “Then what shall we die for?”

All eyes turn to the Pirate King, watching as she grabs the knotted rope of the rigging and hoists herself high.

“What are all of you willing to die for?” she asks again, regarding everyone with a cool, calm, eye. “I will tell you what I am willing to die for: freedom.”

No one says a damn thing, too enraptured.

“We are the Black Pearl, and we are the leaders of this army. An army of free people, those who refuse to submit to the yoke and chains of those who would enslave us. An army that even now awaits behind us, looking to us to lead. To show them how to fight. To show them why we fight! What do you think we should give them to see, hm? Do you think it right to display such cowardice, like frightened children huddling in fear of a schoolyard bully?

“Or will they see people willing to fight, to give their all no matter the odds arrayed against us? Not a meek acceptance of the seeming inevitable, but a bitter, powerful fight to the very end! They will hear the ring of our swords, and they will see the flash of our cannons, and they will see our courage, our strength. The ordinary strength of an ordinary people, by the sweat of our brows and the beating of our defiant hearts. They will know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that on this day, in this hour, that we are free! And we will not give that up without a fight! Barbossa!”

The revived pirate looks to his king, the one who he never would have voted for and now realizes is exactly what he needs. Gone is his fear and despair, replaced by all the steely resolve and unyielding force of will that has sustained him throughout his life and beyond.

“Will you take the helm?” Faris asks, in a tone that invites only one response.

Barbossa bares his teeth, stepping forward. “Aye, I will! If today’s to be the end, I would rather sail into it myself, with both eyes open wide!”

The Pirate King grins back. “Very well, my good man. As for the rest of you, there is only one more thing left to say: Hoist the colors!”

A cheer goes up from the crew, a wordless sound of joy and defiance that Riku takes and merges into a single, indisputably pirate battle cry. “Hoist the colors!”

“HOIST THE COLORS!” the pirates declare as one, scurrying to their stations and preparing to sail into battle. Within moments, the Black Pearl is on the move, charging hard into what could be its final battle, and without a doubt will be its finest.

Across the miles of open sea, prompted by it opponent’s audacious move, the Flying Dutchman sails forward as well, leaving the rest of the armada behind to face its nemesis in direct, single combat.

In the skies above, lightning flashes and rain begins to fall, the booming thunder a sign that the world itself realizes that this is a time of total war. The wind picks up, and even as the rival vessels move towards their fierce clash, the waters between them begin to swirl and churn…

KH-KH-KH

A profound sense of disorientation comes over Sora, the feeling that he’s lost adrift at sea. All he can see is darkness, the thin curtain drawn by closed eyelids. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, the Keybearer opens his eyes.

He’s in some strange place, unlike anywhere he’s ever been. All round him is a dark gray barrier that stretches all around, a single piece that is sky, walls, and floor all at once. Every few moments, a dull crackle sounds, light flashing through the gray. If Sora had to guess, he’d say that he has somehow found himself inside a cloud.

“This is where I have chosen to fight.”

The sound of Tia Dalma’s voice, one Sora had honestly never expected to hear again, startles him. Gone is the force of sound and shadowing echo, leaving only the witch’s natural speaking voice.

He turns to the voice’s source, his mouth falling open as he sees Tia Dalma as he has always known her, standing there and staring him down with wide eyes. Only her clothing is different, a dress that seems to be made of dark, angry clouds and crackling lightning, like she’s wearing the sky itself.

And maybe there is something else, some vague shadow that rises behind her, taller even than the goddess was before bursting into the wave of clicking crabs. A shadow that he could almost believe stretches into infinity.

“Where am I?” he asks, stepping forward. The ground beneath him is solid enough to hold him, though it has a noticeable amount of give. “What’s happening with my friends? Why would you take me away from them? Where am I?”

Calypso’s enigmatic smile comes forth at the Keybearer’s repeating of his question. “As I said, Keybearer, you are where I have chosen to fight. Where I can assert my power on the physical world while my champion guards me from the monster that is to come.”

Sora frowns. “Assert your power? So then, you’re really going to help out Faris and the others!”

“I will do… what I can,” the goddess answers, a hesitation in her voice that Sora absolutely does not like. She looks oddly guilty about something, and anxious too. “It is not in my nature to be accommodating, to help. But I can add my own touch to the situation, a sort of mutual disadvantage. Or advantage, if the Pirate King be strong enough to weather it.”

None of that really makes sense to Sora, but as ever, he’s willing to give someone the benefit of the doubt.

“Then why take me away from them?” he asks. “What am I supposed to do here?”

Calypso looks away, staring out into the emptiness ahead with fearful wide eyes. “Because it is coming for me. The one whose power is sufficient even to the killing of gods, spoken of in fearful tones by the most powerful beings in the Realm of Light.”

“Oh.”

“The witch has gathered the means to summon it, I have seen it.” Calypso shudders. “She knows I have placed myself in a position of weakness, chosen to isolate myself from my godly brethren.”

Though still incredibly confused, Sora at least thinks he has an idea of what the goddess is talking about. “You mean, like, Hercules’ dad, right? The gods of Olympus?”

“Indeed. When the cataclysm destroyed the old world, most chose to stay together, cluster where they would not be easily defeated. I was not among that number, one of many who would rather be free than safe.” She lowers her head, the skies of her garment growing darker. “Perhaps I was, once again, too shortsighted.”

“Okay, right,” Sora says, mystified. Whatever Calypso is talking about, he’s pretty sure it’s not terribly relevant to the here and now. “So, then whatever is coming, the thing that can defeat a god… You think I stand a chance?”

Calypso regards the Keybearer with a sly smirk, her old self once more. “It is a creature of deepest Darkness, and the weapon of Light you wield is its very bane. You, brave Sora, are perhaps the only one who stands a chance. And when the time comes, I will lend you what power I can.”

“Um, cool.” So it’s to be yet another fight, then. But as much as he anticipates the coming conflict for himself, Sora can’t help but wonder about the battle that is soon to be joined on the other plane. The one his friends will be facing. “About what’s happening with the Brethren Court, is there a way I can watch, y’know? At least for a little while.”

“Of course, child.” With a wave of her hand, Calypso parts the cloudy ground into a perfectly round portal. Looking down into it, Sora has a bird’s eye view of the battle below.

“Um, is that a maelstrom?” he chokes out, recalling several lessons in school about such terrifying, deadly phenomena.

“Aye. As I said, I can only do so much.”

Far from comforted, Sora stands beside the goddess and looks down, watching as his friends and allies sail willingly into danger.

KH-KH-KH

“They’ve gone and done it, the bastards!” Davy Jones rages, pounding his crab claw against the Dutchman’s railing. “She’s free!”

Maleficent watches him through the portal she’s summoned to give the mutated captain his orders. Her demeanor is his complete opposite, calm and composed to an unnerving degree. “That is none of your concern, Captain, not so long as your heart is under my command. All you need deal with is the physical reality before you. Which, from what I can divine, is one lone pirate ship and a little whirlpool. Hardly a worry for one such as yourself.”

Jones glares at her. “Aye, true enough. Though I must ask one thing. Beckett’s reasons for fighting the pirates is obvious, the man hated them with a zealousness that impresses even myself. Why do you continue that fight now that he is removed from the board?”

“Why Captain, that is really simplicity itself: because Sora and his rabble care for them. And even beside that, my ultimate goal is to crush the defiant spirit of an entire Realm. Why waste an opportunity to practice?”

“Oh,” Jones says simply, a little more awe leaking into the word than he would like. “You really are some kind of twisted bitch, aren’t you?”

All Maleficent needs to answer that question is a smile. Waving her hand, she dismisses the communication. Looking out, she watches as the Flying Dutchman moves inexorably toward the swirling, churning waters.

“Quite a show we’ve got going here,” Pete comments from his place at her side. The fat cat remains unusually calm, perfectly happy in the knowledge that the coming battle has no need for his participation. Part of him does actually miss having Gilgamesh at his side to watch what’s to come, but he also knows the four-armed freak isn’t one to sit out a fight. “So, d’ya think it’s time, then?”

“Indeed it is,” Ienzo remarks, coming to stand beside his fellows with an eager grin on his stolen face. “Shall I bring them out, Maleficent?”

The witch smiles, appreciative of her new minion’s enthusiasm for the work. “Oh, by all means.”

The former Nobody’s grin widens, violet energy gathering in his hand and forming his Soul Eater sword. He raises it to the sky, and slowly the crystal tubes from the hold below begin to rise as well, exposed now to the increasingly dark sky. The tubes’ occupants remain still as ever, though each has been brought into full awareness of what is about to happen.

Cutler Beckett is particularly agitated, looking out from eyes frozen wide to behold the terror that has come now to his own world. Somehow even despite his body’s petrified condition, he feels his heart and stomach clench in fear.

Maleficent strides into the exact middle of the captive dark hearts, her cloak brushing the deep violet Heartless symbol that has burned itself into the black surface of the deck. She holds out her free hand, beckoning Ienzo to place his sword into it.

He does so, though not without a pout of disappointment. Maleficent notices but pays no mind. Surely the fool boy can’t have though himself worthy of actually performing the sacrifice? No, this is a job for her alone. She feels the power of her master flowing through her, the pure sacred Darkness that she has unknowingly longed for all of her life.

“Oh darkest of hearts!” Maleficent intones, the words a twisted echo of ones she spoke long ago. “Reveal to me your power, and open the path to the deepest Darkness!”

The seven crystal prisons shatter simultaneously, seeming to make a single, heartstoppingly loud crack. The occupants take deep breaths, for some of them the first they’ve been able to draw in nearly a year. After so long in stasis, true life returns to the gathered sacrifices.

But that taste of sweet release lasts only a moment. Burning, painful blasts of violet light bursts from each one’s chest, the feeling akin to a bomb exploding outward from inside. Seven mystical hearts, blackened and trailing deep purple light, fly to the air above Maleficent’s heads. The bodies that they once sustained, of Hans, Shere Khan, Sa’Luk, Queen La, Cruella de Vil, Fidget, and Cutler Beckett, fade into the Darkness and are no more.

Their hearts remain, all seven twisting around each other and, in a blood red flash, forming a crimson crystal in the sky. Cerise lines of lightning plays around it, bringing the aura that usually resides only deep within the Realm of Darkness to a world of Light.

Despite having seen a ritual very much like it before, Pete’s jaw hangs open at the sight before him. There’s a distinct feeling of wrongness hanging in the very air, like what is being done now by his mistress should be too terrible to even think of. He does his best to stand his ground, though, reminding himself that as terrifying as this seems now, being on the side of those threatened by it would be even worse.

Ienzo shares none of the fat cat’s dread, absolutely elated at the sight before him. All of his life he’d worked toward one single goal. Even during his time as an Organization XIII Nobody he had done what he could to pursue the cause of Chaos. Now here he is, seeing the beginnings of his master’s dominion coming into the Realm of Light. The only negative is that he himself is not the one in charge.

Some small, still part of him feels horrified by the sight, but what his body is being forced to do. But Rai is too weak to do anything but simply watch.

Maleficent has no cares about what her subordinates think of what is happening. This is a crucial step in the completion of her task, the very reason she was returned from the formless depths. Even knowing her actions are at the behest of another, the witch cannot remember a time when she felt more powerful.

Laughing madly, she thrusts the Soul Eater upward, its tip hitting the precise spot needed to shatter the hovering crystal. It breaks into numerous pieces, their falling and fading eclipsed by the construct’s true purpose.

A bolt of pure black lightning bolt flies into the air, crackling and sizzling with pure power. It slams into the underside of the clouds like a thrown spear, sliding from the physical world and into the spiritual. The entity it carries seeks the one who it must destroy, the glee of freedom and purpose driving it on to assured victory.

KH-KH-KH

Jack Sparrow sits in complete isolation, firmly ensconced in the algae and seaweed that covers every surface. Even the bench he sits on is a little fuzzy, its vibrant green perfectly matching the detritus hanging off the heavily oxidized bars of the cell door.

When the distant, subtle sound of water sliding against a hull and the dull thumps of cannon fire begins, the pirate finds himself filled with a profound sense of relief. Now that things are moving, it’s finally time to execute his plan. No more sitting around, trying his hardest not to contemplate anything more complicated than what kind of coral is poking him in the backside.

Because it’s really too late, now, for doubts. Faris is counting on him, has factored his killing of Davy Jones into her battle plan. The thought of the Pirate King counting on him eases Jack’s doubts somewhat, but not quite enough to erase them.

Ten years at sea is no joke. As much as Jack brags about how natural life on a ship feels for him, not having even the option to disembark for an entire decade is daunting. And in those years in between, just how good of company can a crew of freaky fish guys be?

As he rises from his position on the bench, Jack Sparrow banishes those thoughts. At least he’ll be alive, likely forever. Even the slightest of rewards so often has a few drawbacks. Why expect less from perhaps the ultimate prize?

The bars of his cell prove no problem, rusted and decayed as they are. A quick yank pulls the entire lock mechanism out of line with a screech, and suddenly the entire Dutchman is swaying, the vessel most likely reeling from some attack. Things have begun in earnest, then, and it’s time for Jack Sparrow to start the first day of the rest of his life.

KH-KH-KH

The Pearl and Dutchman, cannons firing across the stirring water, are just beginning to enter the edges of the maelstrom when Sora feels the Darkness coming.

The Keybearer had just been standing at the lip of Calypso’s viewing pool, watching in tense silence as his friends prepared and went to war. He hasn’t seen nearly enough to satisfy his worry or is curiosity, but it seems the time to observe is going to be a long one.

“Ready yourself, brave Sora, wielder of the Kingdom Key,” Tia Dalma’s expansive voice warns him. “It comes for me. It comes…”

There’s no time to ask for the goddess’s meaning. A dark flash erupts from the viewing portal, momentarily rendering every color in photo negative. Sora’s eyes burn from the brief burst, and as he blinks to clear them he realizes that he and Tia Dalma are no longer alone in the clouds.

The figure that hovers over him sends Sora's mind flashing back to his younger years. In one of the many comic books Riku had shared with him during sleepovers in an attempt to scare his younger friends, a pair of young boys had been stalked by the specter of Death itself. He remembers the figure vividly, as the thing had featured fairly steadily in his nightmares before dangers that the Keybearer had actually experienced had overtaken it.

But, coincidental imagery aside, this is just another Heartless.

“I guess this is why you, uh, invited me here?” he casually asks Calypso over his shoulder, summoning the Keyblade and getting into his ready stance.

“The most prudent choice she could have made, I must admit. Though still quite woefully inadequate.”

So, not just another Heartless then.

“Uh, neat trick,” Sora says with a grin, pure bravado in the face of the unknown and frightening. “But you should know I’ve got, y’know, experience with guys who like to hear themselves talk.”

The creature’s eyes flash twice, somehow seeming amused. “Still such spirit, after everything you’ve experienced? Oh, your defiance will make this all the…”

Sora charges with a cry of challenge, leaping up with Kingdom Key held high for a downward slash right through his enemy’s middle. Usually he has the good social grace to let the day’s villains finish with their monologue before launching an attack, but this whole talking Heartless thing is really putting him off. In any case, he has friends to get back to.

By the time he reaches the Heartless, it’s no longer there, rapidly retreating through the air and leaving a vague red mist behind. Sora notes the sudden crimson mist in his vision and, with reflexes honed from hundreds of battles, is quick enough to twist his way out of it. The barest moment after he’s free of the mist, it explodes into a cloud of pure fire. He can feel the heat even as his body twists to hit the ground feetfirst.

Sora pivots right on instinct, raising Kingdom Key and knocking aside a chunk of ice bigger than his head. Then he’s finally not quick enough, a vortex of wind swirling at his feet and throwing him up and back through the air.

He recovers, twisting his body and once again intercepting an ice block. Once he’s landed, his legs slightly bent, the Keybearer rushes forward in a burst of speed. The Lich raises its staff and sends a trio of fireballs at him, but it’s no problem for Sora to sidestep them, losing only a slight amount of speed.

The Lich starts backpedaling, its ghostly red image already hovering where it once was. Sora doesn’t pay any mind, activating a shielding spell as he contacts the red mist. When it explodes, he’s perfectly safe inside his magic bubble. The shield disintegrates into disparate particles of white light as the Keybearer bursts through the flames. He slashes, the Heartless only barely managing to bring up its staff to block.

A torrent of wind and a sweep of the Lich’s staff sends Sora back to the ground, where he immediately on instinct plants his feet and raises his blade. An almost immeasurably short moment after it’s in place, another fireball explodes against it, the mystic weapon dispersing its heat before it can pose a problem.

Sora is already preparing for the next attack, and only after several seconds does he realizes the combat really has lulled.

“As impressive as I imagined,” the Lich taunts in its smooth, dark voice. “Oh, this is well worth the waiting.”

Sora says nothing, just staying wary and ready for anything. He finds himself strangely calm, not even breathing very heavily as he watches the Lich for any sudden movement.

“But I suppose that’s no reason to dawdle,” it continues, the slightest bit of emotion creeping into the words. Resignation, perhaps? More like eagerness for the coming battle. “Shall we then, Keybearer?”

KH-KH-KH

The battle around the swirling maelstrom rages on, two legendary vessels locked in combat. Cannonballs fly through the air, whistling past the all-consuming graveyard that churns below. Just keeping steady is a challenge for both ships, despite the enormous skill and experience of the crewmen involved. A final, winner-take-all combat rages beneath a stormy sky, lightning and thunder robbed of all their majesty by the sheer scale of the battle below.

And Gilgamesh, standing at attention inside the Flying Dutchman’s cabin, can’t see any of it!

He knows the word boredom should not be in any warrior’s vocabulary, that despite any apparent stillness and total lack of anything interesting to do, danger can come from anywhere, any corner. Lack of attention may well lead instantly to lack of life.

But to have a great bit of climactic combat like this only inches away, and to be unable to participate, is really kind of killing him inside. He glares once again at the iron chest sitting atop a pedestal in the spacious room’s center. His very reason for being on this ship in the first place, and the source of all his frustration.

This job had been, if not heartstoppingly exciting, at least marginally compelling in the last few days. Every once in a while, a group of malcontents more loyal to their mutated captain than their good sense would barge or attempt to sneak in. Gilgamesh would draw his blades and engage in a quick melee. He was under orders not to kill or do any irreparable harm, but they had at least been fights. A little bit of distraction to test his meddle and hone his skills.

There would hardly be a mutiny at this moment, though, considering the intensity of the ongoing battle. Besides, whatever happened that determined the fate of this world, Maleficent’s ultimate plan is completely indifferent to it. As it stands, Gilgamesh can’t help but wonder just how necessary his presence is at the moment.

“Probably not very,” the four-armed warrior mutters to himself. Now that it’s been said out loud, the idea has a certain air of irresistability to it. And with the resources at his disposal, it’s not like he has to leave Davy Jones’ heart completely unguarded.

There’s just no way for Gilgamesh to justify inaction to himself. There’s a fight going on outside, he quite literally lives to fight, therefore…

The red-garbed man’s departure leaves the cabin unoccupied by mortals, quiet but for the muffled sounds of battle raging outside and as still as can be expected of a vessel sailing around a maelstrom. But only for a few moments, before Captain Jack Sparrow slips inside to claim his grand prize.

He almost can’t believe his luck, but then it’s been rather terrible recently. Maybe this is some kind of karmic reward?

“Whatever it is, I don’t mind taking advantage,” he declares, swaggering forward with stars in his eyes.

The stars fade as shadows stir beneath his feet, a trio of deadly Neoshadows emerging from the algae-covered deck. Six pairs of glowing yellow eyes swivel to Jack, three fang-filled mouths open and practically salivating (if indeed Heartless possessed any such glands).

“Right, right,” Jack mutters, drawing out the sword he’d liberated from the brig along with his other effects. “Nothing ever comes that easy.”

KH-KH-KH

“From the lef… look port!” Azlyn calls to her men, directing them towards a group of batlike Flutterings swooping down from the dark sky. It’s all she has the time for, the knight barely dodging a swooping punch from an Air Pirate.

She turns and bashes the monster with her shield in a single fluid motion, wincing slightly as yet another boom of cannon fire is followed by a slightly quieter but no less jarring crack of thunder. Between the loud noises, bright lights, and pounding rain, this is one of the most chaotic battles she’s ever been in. Maybe even the most chaotic; she’ll do ratings after it’s over and she isn’t in danger of getting killed.

Or getting others killed, for that matter. This Pirate Lord gig may not be permanent, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t going to do it right. She’d wondered idly, while waiting for Sora and the others to return from the morning’s parley, whether she could manage to do her own fighting and help direct her men at the same time.

A Marine Rumba rises over the Pearl’s railing, shooting off intense blasts of water. Azlyn’s shield is up to intercept them, and in the brief moment she has she shoots a look over her shoulder. The Singapore pirates are doing well against their flying opponents, working in pairs to separate and eliminate the batlike creatures of Darkness.

Satisfied, she ducks and spins, throwing her shield and destroying her own Heartless. Just before the disk can return to her hand, the ship rocks violently as a cannonball fired from across the maelstrom nicks the aft deck. Everyone aboard stumbles just a few steps, a chorus of surprised and fearful shouts joining the other noises.

“Steady, everyone!” Faris calls, the emphasis on her second word caused by a grunt as she slashes down a pair of Vaporflies.”Return fire!”

“Can’t!” Riku cries in frustration, a sweep of his hand sending half-a-dozen Dark Fireballs into the ever-thickening curtain of airborne enemies. “They’re pinning us down, keeping us from…” He cuts off the explanation with a snarl, ducking beneath the kick of an Air Pirate.

“We need airpower!” Barbossa adds. Pintel and Ragetti remain by him, the pair dedicating themselves to the defense of the Black Pearl’s helmsman. Should the resurrected Pirate Lord falter in his duty, they could find themselves becoming a lot better acquainted with that maelstrom. “If any of ye have been hiding the ability to fly, this would be the proper moment for a reveal!”

The shouted discussion takes maybe twenty seconds, time enough for yet another wave of flying Heartless to descend. Azlyn can’t focus on that, however, with the sharp slam of wood-on-wood drawing her attention behind her.

The knight jolts and stops short when she sees Telary emerging from the captain’s cabin, holding a ridiculous, frilly blue and white parasol above his head. The reason for it becomes apparent a heartbeat later when she notices her husband’s precious magic book held open in one hand.

“I need a Heartless!” he shouts. Looking around, he realizes that such a request should prove no problem.

Azlyn leaps up, knocking aside one Vaporfly and reaching out to grab another by its antenna. The Heartless squirms in her grip, deftly twisting to try and smack its captor with its anchor-shaped tail. Azlyn casually moves her head to the side, the desperate strike missing by a few crucial centimeters.

The knight turns back to Telary, giving the Heartless in her hand a gentle tap on its head to scramble the thing’s senses. She thrusts it to the wizard, who gingerly takes it by its other antenna and pulls it close.

Telary mutters a few words, vaguely waving the hand holding his book in a gesture of gathering energy. The Vaporfly begins to glow with a soft blue light. The Heartless really freaks out as it realizes something is about to happen, but it’s too late.

Looking proud, Telary lets out a cry of, “Thundagun!”

The Heartless cries out as energy explodes from the aura surrounding its body, hundreds of tiny blue lightning bolts leaping into the air. The lightning moves as if it has a mind of its own, each searing hot tendril reaching out to the Heartless in the air. Every human on deck winces and looks away from the intense light, not knowing that magical lightning seldom does much ocular damage if not directed to by its caster.

There’s a loud sizzle that drowns out all other sounds for a moment, and then the swarming airborne Heartless are gone.

“Way to go, baby!” Azlyn congratulates her man, throwing an arm over his shoulder and fondly kissing his cheek. In all the excitement, she doesn’t know just how heavily he sags into her. He gives her a weary smile. “If I could, I’d marry you all over again right now!”

Telary’s frown turns down. “Uh, thanks for the sentiment, but this hardly seems the place and time.”

“Are you kidding?” she shoots back. “That would be, like, the most badass thing ever to happen!”

He doesn’t respond to that statement with anything more than an eye roll before his gaze focuses on something else. “Are we moving closer faster now?”

“We’re getting absolutely shredded at this range, and we still haven’t time to prepare all the necessary cannons for a ranged fight,” Faris explains, eyes still locked on the Dutchman. “Best to just take it to them directly.”

Azlyn gives Telary another kiss before moving off. “Better get ourselves ready then.”

The wizard watches his wife go, finding it hard to stand without her keeping him up. He’s been holding back a sudden queasy feeling ever since completing the strike, and now he finally feels secure enough to let it go. He stumbles to the railing, each step agonizing in his fatigue. Once he’s reached his destination, Telary lets the contents of his stomach loose into the swirling waters below.

He feels a little better afterwards, at least until he wipes his chin. Looking down at his hand, Telary can’t help but gasp at the sight of bright red blood. He can feel a tear falling, and when he reaches up the wizard finds that it’s bloody as well.

That cannot be good.

KH-KH-KH

Now this is the kind of thing Gilgamesh likes. He stands at the Flying Dutchman’s railing, watching and waiting in anticipation as the Black Pearl begins closing the distance in earnest, picking up speed as it comes deeper and deeper into the whirlpool’s embrace.

Even as focused as he is, the four-armed warrior senses the presences stepping up behind him. He whirl, two swords already drawn, to find at least a dozen mutated sailors standing behind him, their captain at their head.

“They key, if you would,” Davy Jones says, only the slightest snarl in his voice.

“Is this really the best time for this?” Gilgamesh can’t help but ask, a minute gesture of his head indication the looming Black Pearl. “I don’t think we have time for this fight, as thrilling as it would be.”

The cursed captain nods, acquiescent. “Correct, correct. Which is why I imagine I’ll simply skip the fight, and instead opt to reach my considerable tentacles inside every orifice above your neck and snap it from within.”

Oh, now that is a threat. The Keybearer and his friends should learn how much more effective such a statement is than any of their inane quips. Maybe even Maleficent could learn a thing or two.

Well, he really is beginning to feel superfluous to this whole thing, especially considering the negative lightning bolt that had shot into the sky a few minutes ago means his mistress’s agenda on this world is well on its way to completion. No, Gilgamesh decides, when he finally faces down his enemies if will be in the most personal, epic grudge match he can create. And his neck will not be snapped from within by slimy tentacles before that can happen.

“Very well,” he declares with a narrowing of his eyes, lowering his swords slightly while one free hand reaches into a belt pouch and pulls out Jones’ double-pronged key. “For the sake of…”

“Do you fear death?”

At this exact moment, though Gilgamesh will never admit it out loud and is loathe to admit it even to himself, he certainly does.

“Well, whatever,” is all he manages to come up with, handing the key over without an ounce of timidity. Okay, maybe a little bit when he realizes just how slimy Davy Jones’ non-crab hand is. “I hope you and your disgusting heart are very happy together. That loud thump-thump you hear from it every few seconds was starting to drive me nuts!”

It isn’t his greatest exit line, but it is the truth. His dreams once again deferred by circumstance, Gilgamesh departs from the stage.

Davy Jones doesn’t pay the four-armed warrior’s exit any mind, far too pleased to finally be in control of his own destiny. He wastes no time in turning on his heel and marching towards his cabin, each thunk of his peg leg hitting to wooden deck reminding him of his heartbeat. Maybe that big idiot couldn’t stand it, but to Davy Jones that is one of the most wonderful sound on all the seas.

Even the pitched battle his men are fighting begins to melt away as the mutated captain wonders just how this moment could get any better.

And then the door to the Dutchman’s cabin opens before Jones is an arm’s length away, none other than Jack Sparrow himself waltzing out with the Chest in hand. Maybe a god is in fact on Davy Jones’ side today.

“Ahoy there!” Jack declares with a wave of his empty hand that ends with it gripping the sword at his waist. “I feel I must inform you…”

“Look what we have here, boys!” Jones’ announces to the trio of fishmen still by his side. There’s just no time for Sparrow’s brand of terrible banter right now. “A little lost bird that never learned to fly!”

“To my great regret,” the pirate says, shaking his head as he grabs a solid line dangling over his shoulder. It’s funny, sometimes, how things manage to work out for him. “But you know what the beauty of life is? It’s never too late to learn!”

He swings the heavy chest in his hand back over his shoulder, knocking the line he’s holding free of its rigging. It immediately flies upward, tugging the captain and his important cargo into the air as well. It’s not a smooth journey, Jack sputtering and flailing as he’s buffeted by wind and rain from every side. Fighting to maintain his composure in the face of it all, he barely manages to identify the main sail’s crossbrace as it passes below him. Jack lets go only a heartbeat before it’s too late, landing solidly on the thick wooden beam. Feeling himself begin to slip, he thrusts the heavy chest in front of him as a counterweight.

The pirate barely has time to feel impressed with himself before the shadows clinging to the Dutchman’s mast ripple sinuously. Davy Jones steps forth, scowling at his prey and the precious cargo that he carries.

“Ah,” Jack breathes out, the single syllable containing a novel’s worth of exasperation. It’s really just not fair, is it? At least when Jack cheats, it requires a bit of cleverness or skill!

“Fool!” Jones declares, the word amplified rather than drowned out by a simultaneous crack of thunder. His sword is in his hand faster than the eye can follow. “You cannot escape me! Give me the chest, Sparrow!”

“What do you want it for anyway!” Jack yells back, taking a step back and drawing his own blade. “You don’t have to go on like this, mate. I can set you free!”

Davy Jones snarls and unleashes a wordless roar, crying out as he brings his weapon up and down in a simple heavy strike. Jack manages to block it, but only barely.

“My freedom,” the cursed captain growls, “was forfeit long ago!”

KH-KH-KH

“Boarding range in less than a minute,” Faris declares, already leaning against the ship’s railing with a long line in one hand. “Are we ready to do this?”

Riku reaches up to grab a line for himself, holding it out so Telary can grab on as well. The wizard looks pensively at the rope before taking a deep breath and grabbing on. He feels much better after a bit of cooldown time, and nothing so drastic should happen if he doesn’t overdo it with his spells. But Jack is over on the Dutchman, probably in the heart of danger at this very moment, and his favorite can’t neglect a chance to go help him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” he asks Azlyn.

She only shakes her head. “Naw, they’re gonna be over here as soon as you guys are gone. We need somebody to stay behind, and I can coordinate my boys here for a solid defense.”

“Okay. Stay safe, Az.”

“No worries, Tel. You be careful too.” The knight looks around her husband at Riku. “Try not to miss the boat, eh? Long way down.”

The silver-haired Keyblade wielder rolls his eyes. “And you don’t do anything that sparks a mutiny. Good luck.”

“Ready yourselves, lads!” Faris cries, leaping up on the rail. On either side of her, a handful of crewmen prepare to take the leap themselves as well. Across the way, she can see a few of Jones’ malformed men readying themselves for the same.

“First one to dunk a fishman gets a hundred munny!” Riku announces to the general group. With the sounds of hearty agreement defying the sheer terror in the air, the raiders of the Flying Dutchman launch themselves out over the abyss.

KH-KH-KH

Sora launches himself back again, twisting a bit to the side to avoid yet another ball of violet fire coming at him. As soon as his feet are on solid ground he immediately pivots, knocking a few ice crystals away.

There’s no time to recover from the flurry of activity, because the Lich is launching itself at Calypso. She's remained by the pool the entire fight, splitting her attention between the battle below and the one taking place in this strange realm. It reminds Sora of a man he’d seen in Agrabah during Aladdin’s wedding celebration, who’d been simultaneously juggling knives and keeping three plates spinning on sticks.

The goddess removes her gaze from the pool, holding out both hands toward her attacker. The Lich pulls up short, its own arms outstretched as a corona of pale blue fire surrounds its body.

Sora knows a chance when he sees it, and with a running start he makes a leap toward the intelligent Heartless. Years of battle and the fitness that goes with it sends him forward, but with a heartbeat the Keybearer realizes that this leap is going to fall short. Which is weird, because he has been consistently making jumps easily half-again as long for the past few minutes. He’s preparing for a second run that will actually get him to his destination when suddenly the struggle he’s witnessing breaks off.

The Lich pulls back, blasting out a bolt of twin-forked lightning as it goes. Dalma turns away, flicking one hand to deflect the energy. The two forks of the lightning split even further, each separate lance hitting the ground to either side of her. Her other hand waves as well, this motion directed back at the viewing pool. Then she looks up, eyes that seem to contain a storm all their own gazing at Sora.

Suddenly he knows where the Lich is going, and in a single motion he pivots and leaps toward the creature. It tries, staff raised and belching dark fire, to deter him, but the Keybearer simply swings his blade through and keeps going. A leftward swipe of Kingdom Key clears his opponent’s staff away, the follow-up backhand slashing the Lich’s chest.

The contact between blade and creature sparks a powerful burst of pure white Light, and Sora can’t help his satisfaction at hearing the Lich’s scream of pain and surprise. But that pleasure quickly turns to pain, and suddenly the young hero is flying back through the air, dark energy enveloping his body.

But the pain goes even deeper, like a sudden spiky pressure pressing on his mind. Sora blinks away a quick series of flashing images, moving too fast to give anything but the barest impression. An impression of sheer horror.

“Ah, I see now,” the Lich says, satisfaction creeping into its dark voice. “I had wondered how the hero recovered so quickly from his ordeal in my master’s realm.” It turns to Calypso, who looks back with an unmistakable expression of fear. “You did your best, my lady, and it was quite good. As long as I wasn’t looking for it.”

Sora, still wincing at both the physical and mental pain, finds the strength to stand. He scowls up at the Lich, gripping Kingdom Key with both hands for some feeling of stability. “W-what are you talking about?”

“I am sorry Sora,” Tia Dalma says, lowering her eyes. “I did what I had to, but I begin to see that it wasn’t enough.”

Before the Keybearer can begin to ask what she means, the indescribable horror attacks him yet again, no longer in short, sharp flashes, but a flood of pure fear. He screams.

KH-KH-KH

Riku is in fact the first to send one of Davy Jones’ crewmen into the swirling death below, but there’s no time to be satisfied before his feet are touching down on the Dutchman’s deck. Two mutated pirates rush at him, one whipping a chain and the other swinging a sword that appears made of bone.

The silver-haired Keyblade wielder sidesteps the chain, Braveheart coming up to turn the blade aside as well. He ducks, slashing the closer fishman in the stomach as he thrusts out his free hand to knock the other back with two Dark Firagas in quick succession.

Hearing a grunt to his right, Riku turns and slashes in one movement, beating away the pufferfish-like crewman attacking Faris. Two more approach with weapons ready, but a burst of lightning called down by Telary keeps them back.

“I saw Jack on the crossbrace!” Riku calls to the Pirate King.

“As did I,” Faris replies, masterfully parrying a strike. She moves left, her sword flicking out twice and felling her attacker. A burst of freezing air stops another approaching mutant, giving her a bit of room.

“Get him!” Telary calls, hands already moving to weave another spell. A few simple balls of fire, the kind of thing he can do in his sleep. The magic takes its toll, but thankfully he doesn’t feel any of the nausea that’s been accompanying his larger feats.

Just a few steps away, Pintel holds off an algae-covered creature long enough for Marty to blast his shotgun into its stomach. Slowly but surely the Black Pearl crew members begin to carve out a space for themselves.

Faris lets them at it, running for a nearby rope. It’s simple to guess how Jack got up in the air, and she can only hope that she can recreate the method. Grabbing the rope and knocking it free, she feels herself being pulled upward at incredible speed. Recalling Jack’s earlier move at the Isla Cruces mill, she slashes upward as she passes Jones. Letting go, she lands on the cursed captain’s other side.

Jones barely notices, ignoring her successful cut to focus solely on Jack, who has the one thing he craves more than anything else held in one hand. The wily Pirate Lord’s swordplay lives up to its reputation, and even on the rain-soaked crossbrace he has almost perfect footwork. Seems the years of drunken antics have really paid off.

Taking advantage of her opponent’s lapse, Faris thrusts at Jones’ exposed back. It’s no good, the cursed captain reaching back and casually catching her blade in his strong claw. It squeezes almost negligently, and suddenly Faris’s blade is no more than an inch of steel sticking up from a pommel and a shower of tiny metal fragments.

“Did you get it!” Jack calls, his right hand still working overtime to keep up with Jones. “The key, Faris!”

“What?” Jones steps back, slashing with his free claw to discourage any bravery from Faris. Inundated by a sudden irrational fear, the cursed captain can’t help but pull the key from his hiding place, holding it in one of his beard tentacles raised to eye level. “She didn’t…”

Jack steps forward and slashes, cutting through to tentacle and sending both it and the key falling down to the deck below. The Pirate Lord is about to call for his king to go get it, and Davy Jones is readying a strike powerful enough to cleave his enemy in twain, when suddenly the mast of the Flying Dutchman meets that of the Black Pearl in a powerful crash. The ships lean against each other as they swirl around the whirlpool below, their rigging hopelessly tangled.

Faris and Jack both flail wildly at the sudden impact, neither capable of keeping their balance. As the Pirate King tips over and goes plummeting downward, Jack can’t help but let out a fearful cry of her name, even as he himself falls. Luckily for her she falls toward a veritable buffet of strong lines to grab, holding herself above the raging sea.

Jack doesn’t fall far either, as Davy Jones’ quick reflexes grab the Dead Man’s Chest by its handle. The Pirate Lord holds the other handle in a deathgrip, wincing as Jones raises him so they’re eye to eye.

“Um, thanks?” is all the wily pirate can manage.

Davy Jones throws his head back and laughs madly. “You’re an even greater fool than I had ever thought, Jack Sparrow!” He thrusts his free hand behind him, gesturing to where Faris is attempting to climb back up to the fight. “You really care for the girl, don’t you? Poor bastard. It’d almost be crueler to let ye live!”

“I can get behind that!” Jack agrees, nodding frantically.

“I said almost!”

Still laughing, Davy Jones shakes the chest hard, dislodging its desperate hanger-on. Jack falls with a scream, arms flailing as he tries to catch anything that might save him from plunging into the dark waters below.

It isn’t luck that save Jack Sparrow this time. Faris has anticipated his fall, and with a grunt she hurls a sturdy-looking line toward him. He’s able to turn himself and grab on, turning his fall into a controlled swing.

Jones calls out a curse as he watches his enemy escape death yet again. It gets worse, an invisible force suddenly seizing the chest in his hand and tugging it downward. The cursed captain braces himself and holds on with all his strength, but there’s nothing to be done about the ball of violet fire that passes close enough to scorch him. Crying out in pain and frustration, he drops the chest and watches it fall toward the deck below.

Telary holds out his hands, his Magnet spell bringing the Dead Man’s Chest straight to him. It moves more slowly than it would in a true fall, and the wizard can feel the metal box resisting him somehow. Obviously some magical property of the thing, why wouldn’t there…?

Pain, a sharp twist like a scratch from a shard of glass, strikes suddenly from within Telary. He gasps, knowing that even his simple magic use is finally catching up with him. The spell he’s casting weakens, and suddenly normal gravity reasserts its hold on the chest. It falls from ten feet up, crashing into a mutant crewman and inadvertently helping one of Faris’s men win his duel.

The pain fades as quickly as it had come, and Telary struggles to get another Magnet spell together.

With a slick, barely audible slithering sound, Davy Jones rises from the planks of his ship’s deck, sword in hand and at the ready. Telary is right in front of him, still slightly hunched over. The cursed captain knows a perfect opportunity when he sees one. With a muttered snarl, he thrusts his sword forward, right into the wizard’s heart.

Of course, since the fabric of his coat and shirt have been reinforced with an adamantite weave there isn’t any actual penetration. Instead it feels to the redheaded wizard like a hard shove, sending him falling head over heels as he screams in alarm.

When he notices the boy is both not run through and not in possession of the chest, Davy Jones howls in impotent fury. His eyes sweep the deck, until he finds the chest simply lying on the ground, occasionally being kicked out of the way by the feet of passing combatants.

Before the captain can go for it, Riku comes flying at him with Braveheart raised high. Jones raises his claw and catches the blade midchop, but before he can tug it it’s gone, then back again. The silver-haired wielder slashes again, and Jones manages to catch the blade on his own.

“Fancy… meeting you again,” Riku remarks, his teeth gritted as he fights against the sheer strength of his opponent.

The opponents disengage and perform a testing exchange, an island in the chaotic sea of battle around them. In the absence of the Keybearer he really wants to have it out with, Jones supposes this one will have to do.

Jack lands on the deck a few feet away, vibrating momentarily from the power of the impact. Behind him, the living corral reef Palifico approaches with sword drawn, ready to serve his master by eliminating his number one nuisance.

He doesn’t get the chance, Faris coming in from above and landing a flying kick on his jaw that sends the colorful mutant over the rail and into the drink. Jack notices the commotion and throws a look over his shoulder to confirm what he already knows: the Pirate King is here and ready to stand by his side.

He quickly becomes less sanguine when he notices that Telary seems barely able to keep his feet. What’s more, the captain’s favorite is not holding the Dead Man’s Chest.

“We can find it,” Faris says before he has the chance to alert her to the situation. The Pirate King grabs the fallen mutant’s sword and charges forward, joining with Pintel and clashing against a Dutchman crewman with the head of an eel.

Jack knows better than to rush headfirst into a battle, instead relying on his usual light-footedness to sidestep the various struggles taking place on deck. Occasionally he employs his sword to keep from getting stabbed, smashed, or decapitated, but only when absolutely necessary.

For all of Riku’s natural skill and abundant experience with a Keyblade, he’s quickly realizing that Davy Jones has a mastery of the blade he does not. Of course after a few hundred years of life, that would make a lot of sense. Even if the cursed captain spends only a few hours each week in practice, that’s still equivalent to most of Riku’s entire life.

All he has to do is keep Jones busy, give Jack and the others time to get their hands on the chest. And open it. And come to think of it, has anyone managed to grab the key?

As a matter of fact, Telary has it in his possession. Luckily his earlier fall had given him the opportunity to scan the ground and find the tip of one of Jones’ beard tentacles that had the key. He stands, thrusting out an arm and risking a quick spray of fire to clear the area. Jack is just a few feet away, sidestepping the determined thrust of a fish-like sailor and punching him straight in the face.

Things are coming together now.

KH-KH-KH

“Don’t look up,” Sora mutters to the dark stone ground, arms up over his head for protection. “Don’t look at them, don’t look. DON’T LOOK!”

He’s on his knees, utter terror and complete sorrow surrounding him, the dark feelings slowly infusing into his very soul. He doesn’t know how he got here to this dark canyon, but at the moment he doesn’t care. He just wants to keep his head down, to not look at the devastation surrounding him,

But even with his eyes closed, the Keybearer can’t stop seeing the horrible memories that have just attacked him. A hopeless battle with his worst nightmare made manifest, surrounded by the broken, mutilated bodies of everyone he cares about. They return from the dark depths from his mind over and over, like waves pounding a cliffside in a hurricane. Each attack comes with renewed pain, a constant parade of horrors.

It’s his greatest fear come to life, and it’s simply too much!

“It’s not real, Sora. None of this is real.”

The unexpected voice is the first thing that hasn’t hurt in what seems like an eternity. In fact, the feminine tones are a distinct comfort, striking a chord of familiarity in his heart that manages to burst through the sorrow. Opening his eyes, Sora can see a hint of a light hovering above him. A single name leaps to mind, the very person he knows he needs to see right now.

Which is why when he looks up, the Keybearer can’t help but be disappointed. Where he’d expected an angelic face surrounded by red hair, he instead finds an admittedly pleasant one framed in blonde.

“You’re… Naminé?” he asks, unable to keep the confusion from his voice. “But I… I thought that…”

The face looking down at him winces slightly. “No, I’m afraid not Sora. Kairi is… well she’s a little held up at the moment.”

“That’s why we came instead.”

This new familiar voice prompts Sora to sit up fully, staring with an open mouth to where Roxas, surrounded by the same glow as Naminé, looks back at him. His Nobody gives him a grin.

“I thought I told you to look sharp,” he says, shaking his head. “C’mon, Sora, you know this isn’t real. That Heartless is just trying to get to you.”

“What you experienced in the dark realm was horrible, Sora,” Naminé says with considerably more compassion. She lays a hand on the young man’s shoulder, immediate comfort coming with the touch. “But you have to face it, and overcome it.”

Sora scoffs, looking away. Unfortunately, that brings him into contact with the canyon before him, the lifeless, broken bodies of his best friends scattered about like so much trash. In his heart he knows none of them are real, just illusions conjured to… well, to make him act like he has been.

But they could be true, is the thing that really scares him. As long as peace continues to elude him and his companions, any one of them could end up broken like this.

“I know I can,” Sora admits, sighing. “I just hate the fact that I keep having to. Why can’t things ever just… stay?”

“A little existential crisis, huh?” Roxas says with a slight chuckle. “Well, I can certainly understand how that feels.”

The Keybearer winces again. “Sorry. I just…”

“Don’t you worry about us, Sora,” Naminé says. “We’re just fine, the both of us.”

Roxas nods. “Yeah. Maybe we’ll be able to tell you more someday. But for now, we can’t stay much longer, and neither can you. You’ve got a job to do, so…”

“Look sharp?” Sora finishes for his Nobody. Roxas reaches down a hand, and he takes it, allowing the blond to help him gain his feet.

“Exactly.”

Sora nods. “Yeah, okay. Thank you guys, seriously. And, um…”

“What did I just tell you?” Naminé says with an exasperation that seriously reminds the Keybearer of Kairi. “Go on, Sora. We’ll meet again, I promise.”

With one last exchange of nods, the three part ways.

Sora opens his eyes to find himself in the strange cloudy arena from before, still on his knees. Looking up, he sees that the Lich and Calypso are once again engaged in a battle of magical power and will. The Heartless is relentless, much closer now than when Sora last broke up such a contest. Calypso’s arms are splayed wide, the goddess doing all she can to stop her opponent. Even the towering outline that Sora suspects represents her true power seems frayed and fatigued.

If there’s going to be a happy ending here, then Sora is going to have to step up. He rises to his feet, feeling the comforting solidness of Kingdom Key in his hand. With his fears overcome for the moment, it’s time to be the hero that the goddess needs.

But despite Sora’s strength and confidence, sometimes there’s just no path to victory.

The Keybearer has barely put one foot forward before the energy surging around the Lich explodes outward, fading into misty nothingness. Calypso cries out, staggering back as the monstrous Heartless descends upon her.

Sora is sprinting forward now. This is not going to happen, he can’t fail after what he just went through!

And then, with a loud, sickening noise, the Lich’s staff tears through Tia Dalma’s chest.

The goddess cries out, throwing her head back as she screams in agony. It’s mixed in with another sound, a triumphant laugh coming from the Lich. The sudden surge of noise and emotion mixes up Sora’s feet, forcing the Keybearer to skid to a stop lest he fall over. He can only watch what happens next, mouth agape.

Calypso’s power seems to collapse in on itself, the once colossal representation shrinking into the more human body. When the Lich pulls its staff from Tia Dalma’s chest, a massive heart, shining gold in the gloomy arena, is skewered on its end. The glow around it intensifies for a moment, then vanishes.

“No!” Sora screams, getting himself moving again. The Lich reacts immediately, flinging a blast of dark fire at the Keybearer. Kingdom Key bats it aside, Sora not losing a step. But when next the young hero puts is foot down, he finds a geyser of red and black energy rising to meet him. He staggers back with a pained grunt.

“You have failed, Keybearer,” the Lich gloats, smarmy pleasure in every syllable. “This will not be your last time, either. But you have given me an interesting birth in this realm. I thank you for that, and look forward to when next we meet.”

“Sh-shut up!” Sora cries, unable to keep the petulant desperation from his voice. “You maybe have taken this round, but now I know what to expect! I meant what I said before, Lich. I don’t care how powerful and special you think you are! To me, you’re just another Heartless! One that I’m going to destroy!”

The Lich’s face is incapable of an actual smile, but if it were then the creature would be wearing one. “As I said, Keybearer, I look forward to our next encounter. Until then.”

With a flash of that strange negative light from before, the Lich makes its exit from the stage. Calypso is left behind, the goddess’s human form lying on the cloudy ground. To Sora’s surprise, he can see that she is still breathing. He rushes to her side.

“You, you aren’t dead!” he declares happily. “I didn’t fail, I didn’t…”

Dalma weakly raises a hand, quieting the young hero. “I am afraid that appearances are deceiving in this case, child. Though the spark of my life has not yet faded from this plane, it is inevitable now.”

“But you…”

“A goddess I remain, even in death,” Calypso explains. “It is the way of souls to linger for a few moments after the end, and one with as much power as I can turn make those moments last longer than most.”

Sora hangs his head. There’s only one thing he can say. “I’m sorry, Tia. I failed you completely.”

“Tis my fault in part, child. I should have known it could unlock those memories I had hidden.” She pauses a moment, looking into infinity. “And perhaps it is a fate I deserve, after all I have done. After what I have done to him.”

Neither one have to clarify who she’s talking about.

“If it’s any consolation,” Sora says, “if things go according to plan down below, I think he’ll be coming to join you pretty soon.”

Tia Dalma nods, actually smiling a little. “And this time, I will have no choice but to be there when he arrives.” She slips back into seriousness, looking Sora straight in the eye. “I have one further request of you, Keybearer.”

The reminder of his failure stings, but Sora doesn’t let it show beyond a slight wince. “Of course, Calypso. Anything.”

“Before journey’s end, you will return to Mt. Olympus,” the goddess instructs. “When you get there, find Poseidon. Find my father, young Sora, and tell him that I am sorry. I don’t regret following where my heart led me, but I hate the pain it must have caused him when I went.”

It’s a surprisingly human request, not what he’d expected from a goddess. But Sora knows there’s only one reply for it. “I, um, I will tell him. When I see him.” He pauses, frowning. “The Lich is going to go after them too, isn’t it?”

“Not without considerable more precautions than it needed to employ against me,” Calypso confirms. “But yes, it will. All beings of great power throughout the Realm of Light are in danger now.”

“And I’ll have to protect them. Which means facing it again.”

Before more can be said, Tia Dalma’s whole body shudders, the goddess’s eyes becoming cloudy and unfocused. After a worrying half-a-minute, they regain their clarity. Her hand moves, clasping Sora’s tight. He can feel a slight tingle where they make contact.

“When the time is right, you will return to your friends,” Calypso mutters weakly. “Forgive me, Keybearer, for taking you away from them in their time of need. One last… selfish act.” Her eyes go distant again. “Witty Jack, share your heart…”

Though immensely confused, Sora opens his mouth to say something, offer some sort of comfort.

“Davy… Davy Jones.”

And with that final utterance of her lover’s name, the goddess Calypso closes her eyes and is no more. Her assumed form fades, leaving Sora alone in the clouds, his hand still tingling where it once clasped hers.

KH-KH-KH

For one short moment, Riku just isn’t fast enough. After being turned aside by Davy Jones’ blade, he misses getting his own weapon up in time to stop the follow-up. The cursed captain slashes him across the upper chest, and while there’s no cut, the blow has enough force to send the silver-haired young man falling to the deck. He’s barely landed when a vicious kick propels him into the ship’s wall.

“Fool,” Davy Jones snarls at the prone Keyblade wielder, giving him another kick for good measure. With his opponent down for the count, the captain turns to seek out real, significant enemies.

The perfect opportunity presents itself, in the form of Faris Scherwiz. The woman that Captain Jack Sparrow loves, whether he can acknowledge that or not. The very thought disgusts Davy Jones, propelling him forward.

Faris senses someone coming up behind her, spinning and slashing in the same movement. Jones isn’t having it, intercepting the slash with an almost casual flick of his sword. He takes another step, shoving the Pirate King against the rail. She grunts, moving quickly to avoid Jones’ claw slamming down at her. The blow shatters the rail instead. The force of impact is enough that when combined with her momentarily stumbling feet, Faris falls to the deck, barely propped up against the side.

But the Pirate King isn’t cowed, thrusting her sword upward into Davy Jones’ chest. After a barely noticeable beat, he smiles down at her.

“Good instincts,” he compliments her. “But I’m a heartless wretch, remember?” Jones leans forward, drawing the sword from his chest. “Faris Scherwiz, King of the Brethren Court, do you…?”

Davy Jones stops short, the familiar question dying on his lips. He looks up at the sky, staring into the dark clouds of the lights of their electric discharge. Horrible, morbid knowledge comes to him in a flash of insight or intuition. Calypso, the one he loves and hates more than anyone else in the cold, uncaring universe, is gone. Dead. If asked he could not answer how or why he knows this terrible truth, but in the empty cavity that once contained his beating heart, he does.

“The question, dear captain, is if you fear death!”

Jones whirls, snarling as he spots Jack Sparrow standing nearby. At his feet is the Dead Man’s Chest, the key in its lock and its lid open. Held in the Pirate Lord’s left hand is the heart of Davy Jones; in his right, the hilt of Faris’s broken sword, its last few inches of steel ending in a

“Pretty neat, this business of holding a life in the palm of your hand,” Jack continues, wearing his most infuriating smirk. “A fellow could really get used to it.”

For a long moment Davy Jones says nothing, the cursed captain not even really looking too afraid of the scene in front of him. Finally, he says, “I certainly have. For example…”

Without even looking, Jones thrusts the sword in his hand downward. The blade slides into Faris’s chest as easily as a key in its lock, drawing a sharp gasp of pain from the Pirate King. Jack lets out a noise as well, a strangled cry of despair and utter helplessness. It’s a far cry from how he’d felt only a moment ago. Davy Jones allows himself to revel in the satisfaction of the reversal.

Maybe Calypso was right after all: he is a cruel man.

There’s not time for Jones to gloat, a whirling metal disc flying through the sky and striking him across his tentacled face. He stumbles back, right into Riku’s charge. The young man has recovered from their earlier bout, and is ready to get round two started. Especially as Azlyn jumps across from the Pearl to join him.

Meanwhile, Jack rushes to Faris’s side, his mouth open in shock and horror at the sight in front of him. This can’t be happening, not at his moment of ultimate triumph. “No, no! This can’t…”

An idea pops into Jack’s head, obvious. He turns and looks across the deck, frantically searching for Telary. When he spots the wizard, his heart sinks even more. Telary looks to be in no shape to do much of anything, only watch as his wife and Riku do battle with Jones. There will be no magical solutions from that corner.

Then he feels the heart of Davy Jones, still pulsating in his hand. He looks back to Faris, his own heart clenching at the sight of the Pirate King’s unfocused eyes. She still breathes, though every inhale and exhale is labored, too fast.

“Jack,” she manages to get out, the single word coming between frantic breaths. “You have your chance, Jack. Don’t… you shouldn’t give it up for me. It’s what you want.”

He thinks of Will and Elizabeth, seeing their boat float off into the great unknown. If there had been something he could have done for them, and he chose something selfish instead, he couldn’t bear the thought. And doing the same to Faris, the woman he finally admits that he loves, would be even more impossible. It seems there’s truly only one thing to do now…

He shakes his head. “Not if this is the cost, Faris. Knowing that I could have saved you, and chose myself instead?” Teague’s words from the night before come to Jack’s mind. “It isn’t about living forever. It’s about living with myself.”

Witty Jack, share your heart…

It doesn’t take Riku long to realize that going two-to-one against Davy Jones isn’t all that much easier than fighting him alone. Even with Azlyn taking the right while he moves in from the left, the mutant captain’s sword or claw always seems to be where the next attack is. There just isn’t that much room to maneuver, now that most of the battle of the Black Pearl has moved over to the Dutchman. Jones knows this ship better than anyone, can almost feel every footstep on its deck.

Azlyn tries a leap, gathering the strange magical maneuvering power she’s been gifted and jumping nearly to the braces above. She twists and throws her shield down, but Davy Jones shifts one step to the side, his sword still engaged with Riku’s blade, and knocks it away with his claw. If it weren’t a feature of the shield to return when thrown, it would have gone straight over the side and into the maelstrom.

Riku tries to give his partner an opportunity to land with being attacked, letting himself be driven back a few steps. Jones moves forward to follow, allowing Azlyn to hit the deck in a burst of colored light. She rushes after the captain’s open back, ducking underneath a wide swing of his claw. The knight tries to spin around, but loses her footing and falls onto the deck, skidding a few feet away.

That just seems too good an opportunity. Jones batters Riku’s Keyblade away, then slams his massive claw into the young man’s chest. It’s a devastating blow, sending the silver-haired Keyblade wielder several feet into the air right over the ship’s side. He cries out in alarm as he realizes…

Something stops his upward momentum, jarring him harshly but saving his life nonetheless. He looks down to see Telary standing on deck with an upraised hand. A pained look mars the wizard’s features, but he holds on long enough to pull his friend back down to the relative safety of the ship. It’s a perfect maneuver at just the right time.

For Davy Jones.

Riku is barely back over the Dutchman’s deck when its captain pops up behind Telary, his open claws reaching out to grab the wizard by the throat. He squeezes once, drawing a choking moan pf pain from his hostage.

“Tel!” Riku and Azlyn cry the wizard’s name in stereo, both of them leaping to their feet with open mouths.

Davy Jones grins at the sight, sadistic as ever. He looks to the squirming man in his clutch. “Little guppy told me you’re supposed to be Sparrow’s favorite! Well, anything that hurts Jack Sparrow is…”

Pain explodes within Davy Jones. Like a fire has been set in his chest, sheer burning agony begins blazing inside the cursed captain. It spreads quickly, and with a choked gasp that mirrors his captive’s, Jones opens his claw and drops Telary to the deck.

He stumbles backwards, his entire body shaking. There can be only one explanation, and with despair in his eyes he looks upon his killer.

The broken blade of Faris’s shattered sword juts from Davy Jones’ heart, the long-abandoned organ sputtering its last few desperate beats. Two hands hold the blade’s hilt, Faris and Jack’s ten fingers intertwined so that it’s hard to even tell which belongs to which. The Pirate King had been too weak to maintain a grip of her own, but together with Jack the job has finally been done.

The fire in Davy Jones begins to fade, his entire being numbing. So this is death then, that bitter release that he has sent as many souls to as saved from it. Jones had morbidly imagined it himself throughout his many years, and now he knows. He feels… cold.

But he remembers warmth. A hand in his, the sun shining down on a tranquil beach. It’s been so long since he’s recalled that warmth without the bitterness of subsequent events poisoning it in his mind. Now here at the end, he can finally return to that time without anger.

Davy Jones looks up into the sky, rain falling down upon his green-skinned face. He knows that the one he seeks is no longer there, but perhaps that just means that they can now be together once again. Her name comes to his lips like a prayer.

“Calypso.”

He stumbles forward, totally numb now, and pitches over the side of the ship that has been his stronghold and his prison for so many long years. In the embrace of the merciless sea, Davy Jones is no more.

As if in reaction to its latest meal, the maelstrom beneath the two interlocked ships begins to intensify, building momentum as nature begins to overtake its supernatural origins. The vessels poised over its rim begin to shake, pulled even harder toward its maw.

Ragetti stands at the Pearl’s railing, calling over to the other ship. “Barbossa says its time to go!”

“The damned sails are too tangled!” Pintel yells back. The battle is officially over, the Dutchman’s mutant crew completely demoralized by the death of their captain. Even the imminent peril doesn’t do much to rouse them.

“Tel?” Riku calls to the wizard. He’s back on his feet and looking less queasy, but a quick shake of the head from his wife says that he isn’t ready for anything too big.

So, it’s up to Riku.

“Everybody get back on the Pearl, we’ll…”

“Jack!”

All eyes go to the Pearl’s captain, who falls to one knee on the deck with a hand on his chest. He doesn’t look good, even in comparison to the mostly dead woman who had just cried out with an odd, desperate strength.

Telary finds a source of energy himself, rushing to the side of the two fallen Pirate Lords. He should have found it sooner. Bracing himself, the wizard reaches for his magic. Healing is a difficult art even when employed on minor injuries, and for something like this…

It feels like pulling a tooth, but green energy blossoms from Telary’s hand, healing sparks falling on Jack and Faris. But for some reason, they simply slide off without providing any help.

“I…?” Telary sputters, frowning as he watches his friends still looking agonized. Is his magic just failing him completely now?

Perhaps there’s simply something greater at work here. Before anyone can say anything else, bright golden light simultaneously bursts from Jack and Faris’s chest. Those surrounding the pair stumble back, dazzled by the suddenly shining brightness in the heart of the storm.

“What’s all this then?” Jack asks with his usual nonchalance, though one look at the pirate’s face makes it plain that he’s more confused than anyone.

Faris begins to sit up, feeling stronger with every passing moment. Every beat of her heart. “I think your schemes have landed us in yet another situation, Sparrow.”

The Dutchman crew’s apathy has reversed itself, every mutant sailor staring at the glowing pair of pirates with wide eyes. “Part of the ship, part of the crew,” the chant begins from their lips, a dozen individual voices merged into a single-minded drone.

“I really want to go now!” Azlyn yells over the chant.

That’s a sentiment Riku can get behind. He calls for everyone who’s looking to jump ship to the Pearl to make their way starting now. Even over the noise of the destabilizing whirlpool and the crewmen’s chant, they hear them and start making for the wide plank Ragetti and Cotton have set up between the vessels.

Now it’s up to Riku to make sure the Pearl can escape. Looking up with his Keyblade held ready to throw, the silver-haired young man is surprised (in a good way for once today) to find the sails and rigging untangling of their own accord. Odd in the extreme, but at this point he’ll take it.

“I’m not going over.”

Startled, Riku looks down to see Telary standing before him. The wizard stands straight and tall, firm.

“Something’s happening to Jack and Faris, and I want to be here for it.”

“I should argue,” Riku replies with a sigh, “but I think you’re right.”

Azlyn lets out a frustrated grunt, but says, “Yeah, yeah. We’ll stick around.” Looking back at the Pearl and finding Tai Huang standing on the quarterdeck stairs, she gives him a wave that unmistakably tells the first mate to get going. He relays the message to Barbossa, who doesn’t need to be told twice. A few quick maneuvers of the ships wheel sends the Black Pearl riding to safety.

“Part of the ship, part of the crew. Part of the ship, part of the crew.”

The cursed sailors’ chant rises in volume as the sharklike Maccus retrieves the Dead Man’s Chest, raising it in his hands. They approach Jack and Faris at a steady rate, as inexorable as the sinking of the Flying Dutchman deeper into the maelstrom.

Riku, Azlyn, and Telary rush to the pirates’ side, prepared for a fight. “Stand down, you three,” Faris orders, her tone nearly back to its usual strength. “There’s no changing this.”

“Aye,” Jack agrees, still stealing quick glances at his now-glowing heart every few moments. “We’re sailing off the edge of the map once again.”

At least there will be some light to guide them there. The crewmen’s chant is disrupted by a sudden burst of bright light from the Dead Man’s Chest in Maccus’s hands. It calls to the same illumination from Jack and Faris, and in a brilliant flash the pair’s hearts are free.

They float in the air, perfect crystalline shapes that circle one another as they float into the glowing chest. Filled now with the beauty of love rather than the ugliness of betrayal and despair, it transforms from rough gray iron into immaculate gold.

Jack and Faris look at each other, quickly realizing that neither are any worse for wear. They hardly notice that the light from the chest is spreading, sweeping over the Flying Dutchman and -transforming the ship from a molding, barnacle-encrusted symbol of terror into a glorious vessel of whitewashed wood and sails that gleam even in the absence of other light.

The crew are transformed as well, all of their fishy features melting away to reveal the faces and bodies of men. Few in their prime, most looking weathered by time and tide, but monsters no longer. They look at themselves and each other, amazed at their new freedom.

“A miracle,” Maccus, now a fairly handsome middle-aged man with delicately curling black hair, says with an absolutely slack-jawed expression, tears falling down his face. “I’ve been waiting so long for… and now…”

The rest of the crew vocalize their gratitude as well, stepping forward with expressions of grateful joy. Jack takes a step back, definitely not used to being subject to such adoration. Except, of course, that time with the cannibals…

Faris isn’t intimidated. “We are your captains now. And there is still an armada waiting out there. Follow us, and then we can begin the fulfillment of our true purpose. Aye?”

The men reply unanimously in the affirmative, fanning out and taking up their normal sailing jobs. Jack, of course, heads immediately for the ship’s wheel. It’s only at this moment that Riku realizes that the Dutchman is underwater, and has been for some time. Whatever is happening up above, the enemy is in for a real surprise.

Now, if only he could figure out what happened to Sora.

KH-KH-KH

“Well, gentlemen, it seems that we’ve survived battle against the Flying Dutchman!” Barbossa announces from the Pearl’s wheel. “Unfortunately, that still leaves us with perhaps two hundred enemies still left arrayed against us.”

“Including them creature ships, no mistake,” Gibbs adds with a sullen air. “And without Jack.”

Pintel and a few of the lads had brought back the tale of Jack’s actions, and the results for him and Faris. Even in the best possible scenario, Gibbs is far from happy about what’s happening over there. He’d truly been preparing for this for a few days now, ever since he saw Jack’s face after their encounter with his old friends in the netherworld. It would have been nice to have a bit of verbal confirmation, but that wouldn’t be very Jack, would it?

Well, he’ll just have to wait and see. They all will.

KH-KH-KH

Across the space where the maelstrom once was, Maleficent and Ienzo stand at the bow of their Heartless vessel and contemplate the nigh-helpless prey laid out before them.

“We could just go,” Ienzo suggests into the calm silence. “The purpose here is fulfilled, correct?”

The jade-skinned woman at his side inclines her head very slightly. “Indeed it is. The Lich has informed me that the goddess’s power was, to use its words ‘fulfilling but hardly satisfying’. Whatever that means, the power has been captured and is ready to corrupt and deploy when further orders come in.”

“Davy Jones?”

“Irrelevant, in the grand scheme,” she admits. “Though I see only one ship has emerged from the maelstrom, and not the Dutchman. I wouldn't put it past Jones to have his morale broken when he sensed the death of the goddess as he must have.”

“But, as you say, that is irrelevant,” the body thief agrees. “Our numbers and firepower are superior regardless. The only real question I’ll ask you, then, is why?”

“I’m not like you, Ienzo,” Maleficent answers. “You have lived your entire life devoted to the cause of our master, and to you the orders are everything. It is instinctive. Do you know, child, what my primary instinct has always been?” Her dark lips part in a sly smile. “To bring destruction and ruin on as grand a scale as I can imagine. For too long has that part fo me been put in check by necessity, by the duty I am bound to by the one who returned me to this Realm. I have fulfilled that duty on this world, to the very letter. It is time to indulge a little. Forward!”

The word is unnecessary, even the crew of Heartless scuttling around her is more for show and preparation for direct violence than any practicality. But if Maleficent is going to indulge her bloodthirst, she may as well let her innate love of the dramatic shine through as well.

The massive, sharklike vessel of black and violet moves swiftly forward through the water, every bit as graceful and deadly as the creature from which it derives its shape. Two smaller vessels swim in its wake, vicious and hungry for blood and hearts.

The waters before it begin to stir, foam and waves bubbling up. A moment later there’s a loud whoosh of displaced air, and a crash of water flying through the air. The Flying Dutchman emerges into the sunlight, whitewashed planks reflecting it with gleaming light instead of absorbing it in foreboding black. The entire ship, it appears, has changed dramatically.

Maleficent scowls, the bottom of her staff scraping against the floor at her feet as she clutches it tight. “Well,” she remarks through a stiff jaw, “this is something new.”

“Do we retreat now?” Ienzo asks, alarm momentarily overriding his amusement at the witch’s sudden attitude reversal.

The smaller vessels at the flagship’s side fan out and charge ahead without it, opening fire with violet blasts of darkness. Their accuracy is pinpoint, but the Dutchman’s hull is old, tough wood even without its considerable magical enhancement. The worst that comes of the volley is a few unsightly scuff marks.

On the ship’s deck, holding its wheel almost lazily in one hand, Captain Jack Sparrow clucks his tongue. “Isn’t that just the way? No sooner do you get your new ship out to sea then the paint job gets ruined.”

“Aye,” Captain Faris Scherwiz, standing at his side, agrees with a grin. Her eyes remain stern as ever, turning to their enemies. “What say we teach them to keep their bloody distance, eh?”

“PREPARE CANNONS!” Jack bellows, his crew reacting with eagerness and professionalism. “Good show lads, give it the best ya got!”

Gratitude, as it turns out, is an absolutely stellar incentive to perform. The Dutchman’s guns are just as unique as the rest of her, built to fire quick and often with a three-barrel rotation. Cannonballs fly through the air, each one landing a direct hit and doing considerably more damage than the weapons of the attackers. The Heartless flinch, and a second barrage finishes them off in only a few seconds.

Enough time fore Maleficent’s flagship to strike. A large cannon rises from the vessel’s aft, charging a black and violet orb that crackles with dark lightning. It fires, slamming right into the Dutchman’s bow hard enough to kill its forward momentum. Sprays of displacd water reach as high as the ship’s mast before falling back down.

“Dammit!” Azlyn swears, grabbing for Telary's arm to stabilize herself. She looks to Faris. “Can we hit ‘em back yet?”

The female captain shakes her head, grimacing. “Some of the tri-barrels still have a shot, but we need to time it for maximum effect, which means loading fresh ammunition.”

“We’ve got time, mates,” Jack announces, glancing quickly over his shoulder with a grin. “Time and backup.”

The Black Pearl sails in beside the larger ship, its smaller frame and superior speed propelling it past and allowing it to give its own broadside to the flagship. The large Heartless pauses, firing off a few shots that mostly miss the Pearl. By the time its massive cannon is swiveling to track the black-sailed vessel, Barbossa and crew have already started weaving back towards the Dutchman.

The larger ship takes advantage of its enemy’s distraction, a storm of cannonballs crashing into the dark flagship’s hull. They leave scuffs and pockmarks in the armorlike material, but it’s obviously going to take more than one barrage to do any real damage.

The Brethren Court’s fleet is moving up, but so is the Company’s considerably more massive one. Flying Dutchman or not, this battle seems far from over. Unless something changes.

At the Dutchman’s wheel, Faris nudges Jack. “A wonderful start to immortality, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t answer for a long moment, looking out at the forces arrayed against him, then taking in every one of the allies and, yes, friends, standing by his side.

“What’s the point of living forever,” Jack finally answers after a long silent moment, “if you ain’t going to do anything with it?”

There’s really no coherent explanation for the sudden urge that overtakes Faris. Maybe it’s the glint in Jack’s eye, maybe it’s the words themselves, or perhaps something has just been building inside her for a long time now. Probably the reason matters less than the impulse.

She kisses him. Hard, and with a complete sense of abandon, her arms wrapping around him. It doesn’t take a heartbeat for Jack to respond. Both of them give everything to this embrace. Their past will always be there, of course, all of the failures, betrayals, and downturns. But the pair are sailing ahead now, linked forever. They might as well enjoy it.

After a few moments, the Dutchman rocks after taking a few dark blasts, and the ship’s captains pull away. With comical exaggeration, Jack lifts his arm and checks his wrist for steel. Faris laughs at his ‘what are ya gonna do’ shrug.

“So beautiful,” Telary remarks, wiping a tear from his eye. He reaches a hand out for his wife, who gives it a quick squeeze.

“But not particularly helpful to our situation,” Riku adds, not quite so caught up in the moment. Hardly at all, in fact. “I think maybe I can do some damage to that ship if I can get over there. I’ll need a line…”

Something stops the silver-haired young man’s line of thought. He frowns, not quite sure where this sudden feeling comes from. The overwhelming urge to look up…

It starts as a mere twinkle of light in the sky, a small dot of golden color falling down from the heavens above. There’s something about it that Riku finds vaguely familiar, though at that time he had been the meteor. And if that is any guide to what’s happening now…

Maleficent looks up to, but it’s less a hopeful tingle than it is a blaring alarm bell. She can see what’s coming, and there’s no doubt in her mind that it will be better to no be in its path.

“Now we go,” Ienzo says, clearly wary and yet also more than a little amused.

“Yes,” the witch answers with a scowl. Her desire for destruction had been nothing more than a selfish whim, but it has been so long since she could indulge. Nothing to be done about it, but before long Maleficent is going to need to draw some real blood.

For now, she summons a dark portal to take she and her companion away.

Telary frowns, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. “Is that…?”

“Oh yeah,” Azlyn confirms, grinning fiercely. “Sora’s home!”

“Well,” Riku says, arms crossed as he gives his falling friend a mockingly stern glare, “it’s about time.”

The falling Keybearer streaks right through the center on the Heartless flagship, golden energy radiating from the point of impact and engulfing the black vessel. Yet more light streaks out in a wave, washing into the rest of the Company fleet. The Heartless ships are destroyed much as their leader was, while the more mundane vessels are merely rocked hard enough to send them skidding back through the ocean. Once they’ve come to adequate stops, the ships turn and flee for safety, as far and as fast as they can.

The Brethren Fleet watches them go, every ship letting out glad cheers. Pirates shout wordlessly, pair off and dance, and fire their pistols wildly in the air. The Pirate Lords look out at their crews, not a single man or woman lost, and are satisfied that they had chosen their Pirate King well.

Even the crew of the Flying Dutchman celebrate, finally able to properly release the joy they feel at the beginning of the next stage of their journeys. As they begin cheering, the ocean stirs and sends up an impossibly gentle wave, reaching up and carefully depositing Sora on the ship’s deck, the Keybearer crouching on one knee and supporting himself with his hands.

He barely has time to look up before Riku is by his side, reaching down to help his friend stand up. The pair exchange happy smiles, though Riku can quickly tell there’s something bothering Sora.

“Did we win?” the Keybearer asks, the sheer weariness evident in his voice not helping his friend’s concern.

“Yeah” Riku confirms, forcing his smile even wider. “We won.”

Sora is silent a moment, then nods, looking away from his friend and out over the ocean. “Not completely,” he mutters, barely loud enough to be heard.

Up on the quarterdeck, Jack turns to Telary, always his favorite, with a wide grin. “Mr. Telary, you may throw my hat.”

The wizard’s eyes go wide, realizing immediately what an enormous honor is being bestowed on him, fighting back tears, Telary grabs his friend’s hat and tosses it up into the air. It hovers for a moment as if buoyed by the very cheers of the men underneath it, then falls into a joyous, chaotic sea of bodies. “Jack, I…”

“Now go and get it.”

KH-KH-KH

The Brethren Fleet doesn’t remain together for long, each Pirate Lord sailing off with the crew they had brought. Even Tai Huang, newly elected Pirate Lord of Singapore, leaves behind his temporary superior with a surprisingly heartfelt sentiment of thanks. Soon, all that’s left is the Black Pearl and the Flying Dutchman. Everyone gathers on the former.

“You were as exemplary a crew as ever a man could have,” Jack tells his former shipmates, a half-smile on his face as he speaks to them as sincerely as he ever has. “I can think of no one else I would rather have had at my side in these days. You all went willingly beyond the map’s edge for my sake, and I couldn’t forget that if I tried.”

“We love ya too, Jack!” Ragetti calls from the lineup, Pintel making hearty noise of agreement.

“Appreciated!” Jack leans close to Gibbs and mutters, “Think we got ourselves some defectors what sneaked over here during the battle. Never seen those boys in me life.”

Gibbs just rolls his eyes, not bothering to correct his cap… his old friend. “I’ll be sure to keep a close watch on ‘em.”

“Good looking out, mate,” the former Pirate Lord says, reaching an open hand toward his grizzled old buddy. “No hard feelings about the, eh, new direction, Mr. Gibbs?”

A meaty hand clasps Jack’s. “Not at all,” Gibbs admits, only realizing the words are true once he’s said them. “After, all, Jack: ‘Take what ya can’….”

“‘Give nothing’ back’,” Jack finishes, smiling. “Good luck to you, Joshamee.”

His most emotional goodbye taken care of, Jack walks up to the ship’s wheel, where his nemesis turned ally awaits. Barbossa can’t help but grin.

“Looks like I end up with your ol’ ship after all, eh Jack?” he can’t help but boast with a glint in his eye.

Jack concedes with a nod. “Maybe it was truly meant for you all along, Barbie. And there’s no one else I know could love her and keep her as you could.” The pirate leans in, a knowing smile creeping up on his lips. “And if it so happens that you don’t, well… I guess I’ll know, won’t I?”

Barbossa scoffs. “Aye, I suppose so. Well, goodbye Jack. Please know that when it all comes down to it, I really, truly do hate your stinking guts.”

“Oh, Hector. I despise you more than mere words could ever convey.” He turns to walk away, then stops and gives his rival one last look. “But I’ve always thought the monkey was a nice touch.”

Jack finds his friends from distant lands awaiting him at the bottom of the stairs. Azlyn smirks and gives him a minute nod, Telary is beaming brightly, Riku wears a cool but not unhappy look, and though Sora’s smile doesn’t quite reach the lad’s eyes, it’s there.

“It’s been quite a ride, Captain,” Telary says, barely holding back his tears.

“Fun, fun, fun,” Azlyn adds, for once without any trace of sarcasm.

“I got to live out a childhood dream,” Riku says. “Wasn’t exactly what I thought it would be back then, but what ever is?”

“You’re a good guy, Jack,” Sora declares. “Despite what anyone, even me, may say, you really are. And now you’re finally getting what’s always been coming to you.”

The Dutchman’s new captain smiles right back at the Keybearer. “Mate, I never thought I’d hear those words used positively.”

Azlyn shakes her head. “Well, just remember and live up to ‘em, alright?”

“Oh, he will.” Faris walks through the crowd to stand beside Jack, laying a hand on his arm. “I’ll be there to make sure of it.”

Riku eyes the pair. “You sure you’re gonna be okay with this arrangement? I mean, with everything that’s happened?”

She just smiles. “Maybe it won’t be perfect, and it will certainly take some work, but I think that in our case, time spent together really can heal those old wounds.”

“I’ll be making sure of that,” Jack adds, also smiling. “Now, I think we’ve held you kids up on our little waterball long enough. Time to follow the wind, eh?”

“Yeah,” Sora agrees. He wears a smile himself, though he knows that his failure to protect Calypso will haunt him. But that can be dealt with another time. For now, he has only one thing to say, a final message for his friend. “Thanks for everything Jack. No one can deny that you really are the best pirate there is.”