-Prologue-
Port Royal, Jamaica
1690
Pirates loved pillaging and plundering. And raping. This lot wasn't as focused on the latter. Destruction was more their objective, and they were good at it.
Screaming people ran to and fro, chasing by cackling pirates. Buildings were rocked by explosions, both from a pirate armed with explosives, and the cannon balls fired from the menacing ship wreathed in fog in the harbour.
An old woman sat in her small home, above the jewelry shop that she and her son ran. She was huddled at a table at which a single candle burned, seemingly oblivious to the disorder outside. In her withered, spotted hands, the skin dry and papery, she held something gold and glittery.
As her gnarled fingers turned it over, holding it above the tiny flame of the candle, her lips moved soundlessly. Her dark eyes were alert in her lined face, fixed on the pendant. Shaped like a bird, wings outstretched, head to one side, it clutched in its feet a large, perfect black pearl, the size of the woman's thumbnail. The firelight made it glow red, though it was, in fact, more of a blue-green hue. A ruby glittered in the eye of the bird, insignificant next to the pearl.
Outside, flames shot into the sky from a nearby explosion, lighting the room in a blood-hued glow. The old woman smiled, and sat back, her stiff, bony fingers closing around the necklace.
She rose from the table, her joints protesting, and slowly shuffled down the stairs and opened the door onto the street. She inhaled deeply, stepped outside, and screamed at a passing pirate.
The startled pirate turned on her, spotted the necklace in her hand, and reached for it. The old woman threw the necklace at him and rushed inside, slamming the door shut and locking it.
Then she smiled.