DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters/plots from Pirates of the Caribbean. However, all other characters and plot ideas are my own.

AURUM

. a curse reborn .

- prologue -

The weather had seemed pleasant enough. All morning there had been nothing but sun pouring through her bedroom window, and after spending a riveting five hours doing absolutely nothing with herself, Myra Hawthorne chose to take advantage of such a nice day. Maybe she'd drop by one of her friends' house, see who was home; Perhaps she'd stop at the nearby icecream shop, treat herself to her favorite indulgence of a chocolate shake. But the option that won her over was to just go out, walk around, and see what was out there today.

Dressed in her most comfortable pair of blue-jeans (She'd had them for two years. They were ripped, stained and nearly falling apart, but she didn't care; They fit her the best.) and her favorite sweater (A gift from her grandmother) she set out down the street, trying to resist the selfish expectation that something wonderfully exciting was waiting for her just around the corner.

- chapter 1 -

Her steps were light and airy, almost self-confident in their gait as she walked along the noisy road. This street was always busy, always rushing with cars; People were too preoccupied with their destination to care who was in their way. There was supposedly a speed limit of thirty miles an hour, but as far as Myra could tell, no one paid this silly law any mind. Clearly to them it was little more than a mere guideline.

A chill wind broke through the warm sunlight, sending wisps of cloud over the sun, causing Myra to tug her sweater tighter. Grey eyes lifted to the sky, watching as the world around her darkened to a hazy, misty gray. So it seemed Sun had overstayed his welcome and Rain took it upon herself to shove him rudely out of the way. The heavens sent down a crackling streak of lightning and moments later bellowed with a deafening roar of thunder. Myra shivered, knowing she would have to find somewhere to wait out the storm. She was too far from home to go back now, so she might as well just take her chances... Besides, storms like this didn't usually last long. She'd be home before she knew it.

As the first drops of water fell from the clouds, Myra ducked into the nearest store. She hadn't time to see what store it was; She could only hope it was one she wouldn't mind staying in. There came another thunderous roar from outside as the rain fell down harder. Big fat drops pelted against the store window, trickling down over the glass. The shop, which ordinarily would have been quiet, was soon filled with the steady pattering of the rain. Only now did she take a moment to see just where exactly she was.

It was an antique shop. The walls were lined with furniture, their color and dignity long since faded to more subtle tones. There were bookcases teeming with tattered books, their bindings creased and cracked; porcelain figures with pale painted faces; jewelery boxes left open to reveal their tarnished treasures, showing dusty mirrors to the faces who may happen to walk by. In the far corner of the room was a little desk with a cash register, behind which sat an old and bent little man man, his face worn, weathered and wrinkled. A pair of flimsy-lookings spectacles sat upon his crooked nose, magnifying his two soft brown eyes, the kind of eyes that you can tell have seen more than their share of emotion. His gnarled hands were occupied with some odd task, perhaps fixing a broken piece of jewelery. Regardless of what he was doing, it was obvious he hadn't seen Myra enter, perhaps hadn't even noticed the storm raging outside. Turning herself away from the odd-looking elderly man, she began to paruse the trinkets and kick-knacks throughout the store.

Her eyes passed over many worthless items, dolls without limbs and books without pages, before she found anything that mildly caught her interest. Settled behind a group of flashy-looking jewelery boxes, ones with bright colors painted on their lids and jewels lining their little mirrors, was another box. But was made her so curious was the fact that it had no bright pink cover, no jewels at all. It was made of dark, cracked wood, closed with a small silver clasp. Myra reached for this little box, lifting it with both hands. She ran her fingers over its dusty lid, feeling the weathered lines of the ancient wood. She undid the delicate clasp with care, opening the box with a look of fascination. The inside was as plain and simple as the outside. It had no silk lining as the other boxes did, no little mirror for the holder to observe their new treasures. All it had inside was one single necklace. It was a simple thing, really, just a pendant on a chain. And it wasn't even very pretty. The gold of which it was made was old and tarnished, its shine and luster having disappeared many years ago. On its face was the faded outline of a skull that stared blankly up at her, surrounded by lines and markings that may have meant something once. Myra touched the necklace with care, as though fearing it might grow teeth and nip her fingertips. Her wary fingers lifted it from the box, which she closed and slid back into its place on the shelf, hidden behind the more glamorous pieces of woodwork.

For the longest time she just stared at the golden medallion in her palm, at once intrigued and almost in awe at its strange, entrancing face. When she at last glanced up from the necklace she found the old man had his eyes fixed steadily on her, watching her from behind the thick, wire-rimmed lenses.

"You're the first person to find that one, you know." The man's voice was soft, quiet, nearly impossible to hear over the pounding rain that continued to fall.

"Really?" Myra replied absently, not really knowing what he meant but too fascinated by her findings to question him.

The old man gave a shaky nod, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "Mmhmm. I've had that necklace for years. No one's ever looked at it before."

"Mm..." Once more Myra touched the golden pendant, staring at it as though her gaze would return its lost sparkle. After some moments of staring, she approached the desk, shoving a hand into her pocket and pulling out some money. "I'd like to buy it, please."

At this she received a funny look, and the man gave a hoarse chuckle. "You.. You want to buy that?" What he found so funny, Myra could not see. She wanted to buy the necklace. She had a right to, hadn't she?

"Yes," she replied, this time sounding a bit more firm with her tone of voice. "I would like to buy this necklace. How much does it cost?"

"Ooh, I don't know." The man shook his head, waggling a bony finger in her face. "That's no ordinary necklace y'see." Myra rolled her eyes, preparing for a long-winded story of sorts. "From what I've been told, that there necklace is real Aztec gold, it is. Once belonged to Cortes, y'see."

She nodded impatiently, shifting uncomfortably where she stood. "Wow, I didn't know -"

"It's cursed."

The man's words were followed by a long and awkward silence, broken only be a clap of thunder from outside. Myra's eyes were wide, not with fear but a strange sort of surprise, an odd uncertainty as she debated whether to take the man seriously or not. "That's... very interesting," she said hesitantly, deciding that the man's words were nothing to get worried about. "How much does it cost?"

The man gave her another funny glance, letting out a raspy sigh. "Twenty-five."

Placing the money down on the desk, she slipped the necklace into her pocket and turned to leave. Without looking back, she pushed open the door, willing to brave the wrath of the thunderstorm just to get out of that store.

"Don't you go putting that necklace on, now, d'ya hear?" The man called after Myra as she hurried out of the shop, but already she couldn't hear him. The sound of thunder and pouring rain drowned out his meek whisper of a voice. She set off down the street running, desperate to get home.