Prologue
Red. That was the color of her world. Red, like blood, like her rage. She wouldn't rest, not one second, until she found him, and made him pay. She got up from the floor where she lay, cold and alone, and headed for her parents' room. There she exchanged her dress for men's clothing, a pair of trousers, and a shirt. Then, grabbing everything of value, she went through the house, tucking these golden and glittering items in a bag. There were quite a few things. Before today she had been a part of one of the wealthiest families in the Caribbean. Now, she had nothing. She went into the main hall, her father's shoes too large, and making scuffing noises against the marble. She came to an abrupt halt at the base of the stairs. Bending, she picked up the knife she found there, just sitting in a pool of blood at her feet. No, she wouldn't rest until every last drop of blood had spilled from him. She turned towards the door, made her way across the hall, and looked back. Those big, beautiful, now lifeless, blue eyes were staring up at her, much as they had in the past, except now, there wasn't anything she could do to help. She picked up her bags, said her goodbyes to the empty house, and left.
Meanwhile……..
Barbossa, the cur! Three times he'd watched him sail away aboard the Pearl. The Pearl was his ship. Not to worry though. Hector would get nowhere without the charts, and who had the charts? Captain Jack Sparrow. He'd see the Pearl again, no doubt about that. Not only did he have the charts, but he also had his very handy compass. Pointing to whatever he wanted most. Now his gaze was set on the horizon. Oh, yes, Jack would find what he was searching for. He always did.