His first awareness was sand beneath his fingertips and waves flowing in and out around him, dragging him slightly back with each motion. Opening his eyes, all he could see was gray skies. He turned his head to see Elizabeth beside him, her face so ashen that fear gripped him as he knelt over her to search for a pulse. It was faint but steady and he looked around them. It was a small island made more of rocks than beach, jutting up out of an angry sea that cast a spray into the air each time the water hit the reef. There was no sun and it was cold enough that in his damp garments he shivered.
"James?" Her murmur brought him around, as disoriented as he was. "Are we…?"
Wryly, he finished, "Dead? I think not, but rather that we have found Anthemusa."
The island appeared to be deserted, or at least there were no other voices emerging from the mist. It unsettled her how quiet it was, ominous, nothing like what she had imagined. He reached out to help her up and asked, "Are you all right?"
She was unsteady on her feet and every bone in her body ached, for she had been slammed into the rocks. Trembling from the cold, she nodded. He rubbed the palms of his hands up and down her arms, attempting to warm her. "I would offer you my coat, but I'm afraid it's as wet as you are. Let's attempt to find our way inland. There must be something on this island we can burn to make a fire."
Fortunately, she still wore shoes or else attempting to navigate the shoals would have left her feet in tatters. Hanging onto his lapel as they went along a path cut into the rock face, Elizabeth asked, "Where are the sirens? Shouldn't we have seen them by now?"
"Be grateful we haven't," he answered. Mist shifted and took shape around them, luring them to a narrow passage that led inward. James did not want her to go first but the prickling sensations on the back of his neck made him reluctant to leave her to the rear. He felt there was a presence in the island, in the fog, but they had no alternative. Their footsteps echoed as they made their way inward and they heard a pebble bounce off the far wall onto the path. He saw a shadow dart along overhead, accompanied by a delighted peal of laughter that sent a shudder through him. But nothing hampered their progress and both were disappointed that the mainland was not much different from the shore. It was an eerie sort of place filled with dead trees and so cold their breath froze in the air. Their presumed solitude troubled him and he kept a watchful gaze as they descended narrow stone steps and reached level ground.
"I have heard stories of this place, of a lush garden surrounded in beauty," said Elizabeth. "What does this mean?"
"Either the stories are untrue or the sirens' absence has left the garden to ruin."
Movement in the mist warned him they were no longer alone. Each step caused him to pause as he listened for the first warning melody but the sirens were silent, foreboding. He was grateful for Elizabeth's warmth against his side, a reminder that this was not a dream and they were not dead. Not yet, anyway. Her hand found its way into his and did not let go as they approached a place where stone turrets rose from the earth, forming the remnants of what had once been a magnificent pagan cathedral. Dead growth flourished in its crevices, a few dried up flower stems pushing through the cracks in the floor. Dark shapes took form in the fog and his companion drew in her breath as the sirens appeared, for they were not as she expected; these were deathly creatures, no longer beautiful. Years of hunger had sunk their eyes into their heads and lost the luster of their skin. Unwavering gazes burned with intensity in gaunt faces, more like ghosts than the seductive women described by wayward sailors. Their garments were colorless, here and there a hint of crimson in gray strands of hair, but most were beyond death. Mouths opened but no sound came out; their voices had gone the way of their bodies, not having sung in so long they could no longer produce a harmonious note. Even so they were fearful creatures and he tensed at the sight of them, alarmed at their silent approach.
Backing away from them carried them into the ruins and they turned as another form took shape, this one possessing none of the failings of her sisters. Scarlet locks flowed nearly to the ground and her garments were made of living flower strands, floating around her and illuminating the unusual glow to her skin. Her voice was melodious and stirred him deep within, producing a yearning that pleaded with him to be answered. It was a soft voice, gentle, even tender as she moved toward them, so familiar that he could have sworn he had met her before. "You must forgive my sisters; it has been too long since we had humans among us."
She made her way to the stone chair and sank into it, her interest evident as she considered them. "You do not know why you are here, do you?"
James had a faint notion, a hint of a memory that stubbornly would not come forward; Elizabeth remembered nothing, pressed against him as she stared at the gaunt figures that surrounded them. The siren smiled and said, "You should have turned down her request, James. She would have forgotten him. All of them would have. It would have been as if he had never existed. Even you do not remember him."
"I remember," he answered. "Not all of it, but enough to know that this is an illusion, this reality you have created for us. Does it amuse you to toy so with our minds?"
Her skirts moved slightly in the wind, her hair so brilliant it reminded him of red satin. "It does amuse me, for you mortals are such curious creatures, so predictable in your choices…. or so I thought. I spent centuries imprisoned, aware but incapable of holding any influence, an observer encased in a glass sphere as I watched humanity. I suppose you despise our kind for what we do, but there are no innocents in the world, only corruption and evil. I have seen men slit the throat of a friend over a woman's hand, murder and pillage their way through the world merely to obtain what their heart most desires. But we do not keep all who stumble in here, even though under our current circumstances it might be in our best interest to do so. No, you are given a choice: to remember or forget, to leave what I have done as it is or to undo it."
Realization sank over him, filling him with an incomprehensible dread.
Elizabeth stared up at him. "James, what does she mean?"
It had all become an illusion, their life together, his memories of their happiness; everything she believed to be true. He removed the stone from his pocket and stared at it, its bitter cold reminding him of what had brought them here as flashes of the past intruded… her coming to him in the barracks, pleading with him to let her remain on board ship, the angry words shared between them… Elizabeth did not love him. The Elizabeth he had known had a fondness for him, a kindness toward him, an affection that did not go beyond friendship, but she had never wanted to marry him. The memories of their engagement, of their wedding, of their first night entangled in one another's arms, even the child she now carried was an illusion that could become a reality, if that was his choice. And James wanted it more than anything. He did not want to give her up, to forget their life together and never have another chance to build upon it. His mistakes could be undone, the Black Pearl captured, his position at the admiralty certain. But he would remember. That would be his punishment, to every day look into her eyes and know he had robbed her of the man she truly loved, of the life she would have led.
"There is a choice within a choice, isn't there, James?" the siren asked quietly, staring at him.
He trusted her more than the others that moved in closer around them, their skeletal forms garish against the rocks. His desire battled his sense of honor as he realized what he would return to; he would have nothing if he chose to be selfless. Beside him, Elizabeth could not comprehend what they meant, what he remembered that she could not. She stared at him in uncertainty, her hair loose and damp around her shoulders and heard James say tiredly, "Let her remember, and forget."
The siren knew what he meant as she rose to her feet. One lean hand stretched toward Elizabeth and she flinched away from it, the coldness of the woman's skin casting her beneath its spell as she grew still. Memories floated away from her and distant thoughts returned, everything that had happened since they had entered the fog dissipating as the purpose of their voyage returned. Intact were the moments they had shared of innocence, and her hand did not lighten on his arm but he felt her grow emotionally distant from him as she whispered, "Will. What have you done with him?"
Briefly, his eyes closed and when he opened them again, he found the siren watching him with understanding. She felt his inward pain even if his companion was oblivious to it. Her blue eyes became cold as she observed Elizabeth, her dislike obvious. Her hair seemed to have a mind of its own, twisting and curling in an indication of her mood; clapping her hands drew open a stone doorway and out of it stumbled one of his crewmen, slightly dazed. He was relieved to find the commodore present but dumbstruck at the horrific women that surrounded them. Leaving her throne, the siren moved nearer. "What did your stories tell you about us, Miss Swann?"
Standing as near James as she could, Elizabeth whispered, "That you lure men to their deaths."
"I suppose it is a kind of death, though their soul lives on in the mist. Their consciousness is never lost; it is just that their life sustains our kind. Centuries ago we were sovereign in the seas, the most fearsome force known to humankind, able to shift our island wherever we pleased, but over time were driven southward, beyond calm waters into crimson seas. Suspicion and fear keep sailors from venturing too far into our depths, regulating us into an eternity of starvation, for you see, our kind do not die of hunger—they merely live on in spite of it. But it takes so little to nourish us."
One hand reached out and caressed the chin of the second mate, on his knees before her. "No, please," he begged. "I don't want to die…"
Red lips parted and out of them came such a beautiful, haunting sound that even Elizabeth was affected by it, causing a stir in the mist and a shiver of delight from the others. She watched as his expression changed from fear to peace and his hands stretched up to the siren, yearning to submit to her will. James was not as taken with it and although he took a step forward, confusion evident, he resisted. The siren led the second mate to one of her sisters and fear returned as the song ended. The sinewy form bent toward him and his screaming ceased, for in a kiss she drew out his life force. Color flooded into her, streaming through her skin and rippling down the waves of her hair as they transformed into auburn strands. She let go and the corpse fell to the ground, blank and shriveled in death. Elizabeth had to press a hand to her mouth to prevent herself from crying out, dread filling her soul as she wondered if that was what would happen to Will.
The queen turned to her with a smile, anticipating her thoughts. "Few come such a distance to rescue one of their own. In fact, it might even be considered madness. James has made a choice but in it is another choice, one that encompasses both of you." Her attention turned to him once more, the expression in her blue eyes unreadable, and he remembered the temptation she had offered him, the warmth of Elizabeth's body pressing against his. "I have seen into your dreams and memories and you each hide what is in your heart. Elizabeth, you pretend to have no affection for him but that is not the truth, and it is no secret what he feels for you, even though you have used him abominably. Have you felt nothing these last few days?"
She could not know what it had been like to be his wife but the empty ache that filled her soul granted her pause, for it remembered even if she did not. Not wanting to meet the siren's gaze, Elizabeth loosened her grip on his arm. Dread was rising in her, as she felt that ahead was an accusation she could not refute. It waited for her, lingering over her head, wanting her to remember.
Returning to her throne, the queen said, "No one who reaches these shores is without a choice. James has made his decision, now you must make yours. I will allow two of you to leave this island unharmed. Elizabeth, you must choose between them: the commodore, or William Turner."
Weathered and beautiful faces alike watched them with expectation, a cruel smile touching the queen's lips. Elizabeth had no means of communicating her distress other than a whimper. It took all her strength just to remain upright. She had never wanted to choose between them, in some small corner of her heart hoping to remain near to both. The realization that it was not an easy decision came over her in a rush of self-loathing; where once she might have chosen Will in an instant now she hesitated, not only because James would face unspeakable horrors on the island but she could not bear to think of life without him. Encounters of the last few days returned to her, the tone of his voice and warmth in his gaze, the touch of his hand at her waist and his nearness, the passion they had shared in that one impetuous, forbidden kiss.
James was resigned when she looked at him, calm in spite of what he felt certain was to be his fate; she saw it in his face and said, "James…"
Gentle green eyes softened at her anguish and he reached out to touch her cheek, curling his fingers beneath the tangled strands of her hair. "I will make your decision easier. I will stay."
"No!" Her hand grasped at his and he felt the desperation in her. "I will not leave without both of you!"
Closing his hand around her arm, James pulled her aside and removed his dagger from his boot. "Take this, you may need it."
"I will not let you sacrifice yourself!"
Indignation caused her to stand taller, her determination touching even if it was driven through fear. She had never been entirely without him, and could not imagine a world in which he was not there, steadfast and ever responsive to her needs. In many ways she was still a little girl in spite of all that she had seen. James glanced at the shadows that surrounded them and stepped nearer to her, lowering his voice as he said, "One of us must remain. You have a life to return to, a father who loves you, and a future with the man you love. All that awaits me is disgrace. I have not accomplished what I was meant to, I have not fulfilled my orders, and in spite of my better judgment, I allowed a notorious criminal to escape. I will be court-martialed."
She knew what that would mean for him; the humiliation would kill him. James lived by the rules and when he bent them it was for her best interest and not his. She understood then that he had never expected to return alive and it sank into her slowly, creating numbness that spread through her and ignited the grief resting just beneath the surface. "You want to die," she whispered. Her hand fumbled at his arm, anger igniting in her. "That, I find impossible to believe! That James Norrington would ever simply give up? You have fought all your life, James. You cannot stop now! Have you forgotten who you are? Or what you have taught me? I know there is passion in you, use it! I will not let you go."
Never had he seen more fire in her, flowing through her as she glared up at him, as if her plea could dictate his actions. She strained upward toward him, her mouth parted slightly, and at her unspoken invitation he leaned down and kissed her. It held not the passion it had contained on board ship, but instead was full of remorse and longing. When he tried to move away, she grabbed his arms and held onto him, her eyes damp but full of anger. "No," she said.
Behind them, the sirens were growing impatient and their queen asked, "Have you made your choice?"
The wind teased her hair and pulled at the skirt of her gown, her confusion increasing as he smiled at her. "She has," he answered, and turned away from her. Elizabeth could not form coherent words but moved forward as he approached the siren, who stared at her for a time, then indicated the tunnel from which the unfortunate prisoner had appeared. In a tone that implied how pleased she was with her latest conquest, the siren said, "You will find Mr. Turner inside."
Bracing her hand on the doorway, Elizabeth glanced back and James gave her a firm nod of encouragement. Though she hated leaving him there, even hated him for the choice he had made, she darted into the gloom. In her absence, he turned to the siren, one of the most beautiful beings he had ever encountered. When she held out his hand, he took it, searching her face and attempting to discern her motivations. Her attention rested on the empty doorway and she entwined her fingers around his neck, bringing him close. "There goes the woman you love, leaving you behind to save him. Is that not how it has always been between you, James?"
Her eyes were unnatural, the color of the sea after a fierce storm, drawing him in and threatening to drown him. There was more enticement about sirens than their voices, although he felt strangely distant from this one. Though he should have been intimidated at her presence, he was not afraid of her. Sensing it, she looked to him and her fingernails dug into the back of his neck, drawing drops of blood. "You are calmer under the circumstances than I anticipated, Commodore."
"Death has never particularly alarmed me."
"Even a death such as the one we propose for you?"
James met her gaze without flinching. "It seems quick enough."
Mist moved around them and she released him, leaning back in her chair as he straightened up, once more the perfect officer. "You have not answered my question. Why would you make such a choice for her? You could have kept her."
"Why would you want me to keep her? Or is not concern for my interests that drives you but that you are bound to an ancient ritual that forces you to give your prisoners a choice?" James watched her face alter slightly with this suggestion and knew his assumption was right, that it had not been in her best interest to grant any of them a choice. Moving a slight distance from her, he said, "Here, you are accustomed to commanding men to do as you wish, but in my world there is freedom to choose. I could not remove that choice from her, and it would dishonor me to do so."
One bare foot crept forward and she arose from her throne, descending the stairs toward him. "But in such a choice, you run the risk of losing."
"Is it any different than the choice you offered us? I am the one you want, am I not?"
Lifting her chin, the queen granted him a little smile. "What happened to you on board ship, all you saw and felt and experienced, the memories, were not an illusion but a reflection of potential. You might have chosen that life and returned to live it, the remembrance of your rival fading with each passing hour. It is a choice I knew you would make even when tempted. The stone in the wooden box in your writing desk granted me access to both of you, allowed me to discern your natures. You are the nobler one and I counted on that, but it does you merit, James, for you have invoked my interest in spite of granting me what I most want. Death is not what awaits you. If we were to consume your life and the lives of your crew, in time we would continue in our slow starvation. We have another use for you."
Recognition sank into him and dread took hold. "I see."
"Do you?" Her eyes darkened and a ghastly smile touched her lips as she reached for him, her hand closing around his wrist. Placing her mouth near his ear, she whispered, "So you see, dear James, you were abandoned not to death but a fate far worse by your moral standards. Death you could abide, would even welcome as you have not much left to live for, but you are to be my buccaneer, and you will bring me souls."
Many emotions passed through him but one brought a smile to his face. "Have you a preference for which souls?"
This intrigued her. "Do you have certain ones in mind?"
"I rather thought pirates, one in particular."
