Geneva could see. Ever since she had tried it out on Will, she had learned to better control her visions. And now she could see where her only hope lay. James Norrington. Stranded on that island. Heart in hand. A tower of black smoke, rising high above the trees. He was her only hope. But he had a superior. A real superior. A real chance.

"Go," she whispered weakly, only audible to herself in the darkness. The tides were coming in around him. Sails hovered on the horizon. Almost there. Almost free.

"Run, little Jim. Let no one hold you back. Let no one overshadow you. Let the chains of all authority fall from your soul. Take back what is yours, and leave for me what is mine."