Father led the way to the Brethren Court adjournment room, though we didn't gather around the table the way we had last night. Father had Mother seated with his coat around her shoulders and sat at her side diligently. Nearby, Elizabeth leaned against the Brethren globe. Will sat opposite my parents, Henry nearby sitting in a chair backwards. Carina and I sat on the floor midway between, and all of our attentions were jointly fixated on Mother. That is where she told us what she had seen. "Calypso," she said gravely. "She showed me…everything. It was as though I was watching her life unfold firsthand. Hers and… and his."


Even from his beginnings, Davy Jones had never been known as a particularly kindhearted soul. From youth he had expressed a sole ambition to acquire as much power as he could, as he had been born without any. He vowed to achieve this power by whatever means necessary. He swindled, he deceived, he betrayed, and he killed. He gained control of his own ship from a very young age and basked in the authority he had. He exerted control over his crew relentlessly and cruelly; starving, binding, and brutalizing men who dared cross his demands. He once flogged a cabin boy so viciously, he perished from his wounds.

Then one day, as though some sort of divine justice had been enacted upon him, his vessel ran afoul of a vicious monstrosity—a gigantic cephalopod. The kraken. His vessel torn nearly in two and already a dozen men decimated from the attack, Jones was faced with little options. What he did was perhaps the most generous act he ever made in his life, and would ultimately be the action that saved his soul from damnation. He ordered his men to lay a gunpowder trail across the dilapidated deck of the ship leading to as many crates of alcohol and powder the ship had left in their stock in order to completely destroy the vessel and hopefully cause a large enough distraction so that the remaining crew could get away. Someone had to light the fire, however. Jones stayed behind, the Captain going down with his ship as it was blown to bits.

He awakened in a place where there was no sun. Instead, all light seemed to emulate from everywhere at once, streaming down on him and creating a white light that blended in perfectly with the horizon. He was completely surrounded by pristine, white sand, which was in turn surrounded by crystal clear, blue ocean. No vessel in sight, no sight of life whatsoever. He was isolated in a land of reckoning — the Locker. His misdeeds had been too severe for salvation, but his final act of sacrifice did not warrant complete damnation either. He instead would be held here until… well… there was no telling how long. He had read scripture of this place before, and all that was known was that a final judgement would eventually come, so until then all he could do was… wait. But Jones was not a patient man. In what had only amounted to a few days, he had already decided that damnation might be preferable to the ceaseless waiting, for there was someone he had left behind in the world of the living. Her name was Isla. His bloodlust for power seemed dwarfed, even insignificant when he was with her. He knew that every day he was stuck here in the Locker was another day she lived, forever unknowing of his dark fate.

As days began to meld and merge into an uncertain mass of time, he began to make fruitless efforts of escaping the island. Eventually, this caught the attention of a spirit without form or body who frequented these parts. Her name was Calypso, the spirit of the sea and the daughter of the god Poseidon. She had passed many a visitor to the Locker on islands just like this one on her inconstant visits between this realm and Earth, but never had she seen one so hellbent on leaving. She watched him, day after day attempting to swim as far as he could to try to find any sort of way out of this place. Finally, she couldn't watch him struggle any longer. She glided through the water and surrounded him, telling him softly that there was no use in leaving. Unnerved by her disembodied voice, he lashed out as if to attack, but she only guided him back to shore with a calming wave until he was back on shore, her waves rippling softly in amusement.

That was what began a century of torment for them both, as well as so many others. If only then Calypso would have known, perhaps she would have left him there and continued on her flighty journey between worlds, as she was a rambunctious, untamable spirit who was wont to wander. But instead, she tarried with him. She had always loved watching human activity on the shore or in passing ships, though never had she interacted with one before. So craved for company was he that he barely questioned the voice that spoke to him as she peppered him with questions about his life. Everything changed when he mentioned his quest to get back to Isla.

In the many thousands of years she had spent watching mortals, their capacity for love was what had fascinated her the most. And to be engaged in conversation with a man as deeply enamored as Jones was rendered him the object of her utmost fascination. The more she kept him speaking of her and only her, the more that her fascination turned to something else. Something darker. Envy. An envy that only continued to balloon once it was abundantly clear that his affection belonged solely to Isla.

So, Calypso did something unforgivable. Using all he had told her of her whereabouts and appearance, she traveled to Earth and waited until she was certain she had found his Isla. She found her gathering up a net along a shoreline in Scotland, and she studied her every move as her waves gently lapped the sand by her feet.

Meanwhile, Jones spent another listless day staring at the unseeable horizon…or at least where a horizon should be. He was getting accustomed to the silence of this place. That is perhaps why it was so jarring to hear a voice he never thought he would hear again. Isla! When he turned his head, there she stood, just as he had remembered her. He thought that he had finally gone mad from isolation, and questioned if this was perhaps a cruel trick by the gods. But Isla merely assured him that she was indeed herself, and he surrendered to his lust.

When he awoke, he had feared that perhaps her being there had been a dream, but was relieved to find her laying on her side, staring at him, running her fingers through his hair. He asked her how it was possible that she had come to be with him, and when she told him not to concern himself with the thought, all of a sudden he grew suspicious. He distanced himself from her, asking questions that only the true Isla would know. This Isla struggled to respond, and that's when he knew that she wasn't who she presented herself to be. He leapt to his feet and drew his sword, pressing the edge to her neck as he demanded whoever this person was to reveal themselves. The false Isla then burst into tears and begged his forgiveness. It was Calypso. She had taken in every detail of Isla and transformed herself into her so that she could seduce him, all in the effort of feeling human love. Of feeling his love.

Appalled and disgusted, Jones coldly ordered Calypso away from him, wishing to never see her again. She desperately implored him to reconsider — if it was what he wanted, she would forsake her godlike form and present herself as Isla forever. But Jones was horrified at the suggestion, and he told her that anything less than the real Isla was never something he could be capable of loving.

This enraged Calypso. Her Isla disguise crumbled into several hundred miniature crabs that scuttled disturbingly back into the waves. The waters then grew violent as Calypso shouted that no matter what he did, he would never get out of the Locker until it was time for his judgement. Her cousin, Hectate, the goddess of witchcraft and guardian of the border between life and death, controlled these waters, and since no one had ever made it past her, his only hope of reprieve was to find solace in loving another. This was her final offer. And when Jones's only response to this was to spit into the ocean, a heartbroken Calypso made her leave, taking out her volatile temper by creating a maelstrom off the southern coast of Norway that destroyed three Viking vessels.

Though Jones was shaken by the betrayal and the sudden realization that he was again alone, he did not let this destroy him. In fact, the rage he felt was giving him a new purpose, and that purpose had led to a plan. Calypso had mentioned Hectate, the ruling authority in these parts. Why would he spend his time consorting with a mere sea goddess when he could appeal to the one being who had the power to reverse his fate? So, called out for Hectate. Hectate wasn't used to hearing her own name in her territory, so she was immediately dead-set on locating the source. She traversed her islands quickly, and upon finding Jones, took a human form to inquire as to his purpose with her. He asked plainly what it would take for him to be granted a second chance in the mortal realm, to which Hectate only laughed. Death was irreversible, and she wasn't about to let a soul awaiting judgement take his place among the living once more. But he nevertheless told her of his plight, and spoke of his one true love. Hectate wasn't quite so easily smitten as Calypso was, and it took quite a lot of time and many interactions with him for her to even begin warming to his charm. It was only upon his mentioning of her cousin Calypso that Hectate started to genuinely consider helping this man. She knew Calypso didn't interact with mortals, so the fact that this one had turned her head was quite telling.

At last, one day she arrived to his island with an offer. For one single day, she would permit him to walk amongst the living once more in the location of his choice. After then, he would return to the Locker for the rest of time until the day of his ultimate judgement. Jones was quick to agree, and in a flash of green light, Hectate took him to a bluff overlooking the ocean. He knew this place well and had thought only of it for as long as he had been dead — Isla's village. Hectate was beside him and motioned to the horizon, where the sun had freshly set. She told him to meet him right at the same spot the following day at sunset. She then vanished, leaving him to his single day of freedom.

From memory, he ran the route he knew would get him to Isla's cottage. He reached into a pouch he kept on his belt and pulled out two silver rings he had had made for them both upon their marriage. Though he would only be able to be with her for a day, at the very least he could leave her with a token of his love. It was fully dark by the time he arrived, and he passed a window on his way to her door that was illuminated by candlelight. Movement from within made him stop there and look within, and though his heart leapt upon spotting his beloved Isla, to his horror he saw that she was not alone. Within, she was seated at the side of a man he didn't know, and they both were surrounded by two children and an infant. Their children. Unbeknownst to him, what had felt like merely one long day in the Locker had actually been ten full years. Isla had moved on, and her heart now belonged to another.

Jones stumbled away from the cottage in a daze. Ten years. Ten years wasted! And after all his efforts, his sole purpose of being back on Earth, his one opportunity had been squandered. He made his way back to the bluff and considered calling upon Hectate to bring him back to his lonesome fate right then and there. But just when he thought all his hopes were dashed, something cold and dark rose up inside of him. He had let love make him weak. Humans were full of deceit and disappointment, and they were meant to be subjugated. He was above it all. He always was… at least he was in his own mind. He still had nearly a full day to walk the Earth. Why stop at a day when he could make it an eternity?

As the sun set the following day, Hectate arrived at the bluff where they were to meet. When Jones never materialized, terror overtook her: She had taken a mortal at his word and had released him into the world. There was no telling what he could be capable of. She launched into a massive effort to find him, scouring for days until at last, an odd feeling overtook her. Her spirit was being metaphysically called to a specific source. She followed the call and traced it to an abandoned warehouse along the Thames River in London. There, she found Jones holed up inside, holding a dagger to the neck of an unknown and terrified woman while holding his two silver rings aloft triumphantly.

After deciding to take his fate into his own hands, Jones had recalled his boyhood interactions with a Lothian witch who had lived just outside of his village. She had seen into his future and told him lore of rituals in which to bind spirits to human hosts using tokens. Deciding that this might be the only way he could ensure his second chance on Earth, he stowed away on a fishing vessel that had landed in London. There, he abducted a Persian slave. So cunning and cruel-hearted was he that he specifically sought out a vulnerable woman from a foreign land who wouldn't arise suspicion upon suddenly vanishing, knowing that once bound, no Londoner would be keen to help her or believe her story. He then began the ritual from memory, choosing to bind Hectate with his silver rings, the former symbol of what he had thought to be an undying love. Once Hectate arrived, he uttered the words, "Hectate, I hereby bind thee to a human bond." She tried to flee, but it was too late. The spell was already beginning to take hold as Jones pressed his tokens against the chest of the poor Persian girl. Hectate's mortal disguise dissolved into a formless sphere of light as she was dragged toward them both. With one final desperate effort, Hectate expended the last bit of power she had left to open a portal of green light that swallowed Jones and sent him back to the Locker. For her, however, it was too late. Hectate awoke in the body of the girl, whose own soul had been killed and expelled from her corporeal form. Hectate was bound here, locked inside this body, her powers dwarfed, her being separated from her fellow gods…possibly forever.

When Jones realized what had happened, he exploded in a violent rage. Not only was he back in the Locker, but now he would be here forever. See, with Hectate gone, his sole opportunity for freedom was now trapped on Earth in a mortal form. There would be no judgement day. This stagnant, lonely existence would be his reality for an eternity.

The repercussions of Hectate's absence were far more severe for the other souls of the Locker, who upon dying had no one to ferry them to the other side. A buildup of souls began that resulted in catastrophic levels of disorder. A commune of the gods was called to try to determine Hectate's whereabouts. One of them had seen her take a mortal to the surface. Upon hearing this, Calypso knew at once that this mortal had been Jones. She stole away to his island in the Locker to confront him before the other gods figured out this mortal's identity themselves. She readied herself for an embittered fight, but was shocked to find him even more distraught since last she'd seen him. No longer was there light in his eyes. He plaintively reported what had unfolded, and Calypso shuddered when his answer to her question of where Hectate was was replied with but one word: "Lost."

To her, she had no reason to doubt that he had destroyed the one god whose function was essential for order between one realm and the next. She should have turned him over to the gods to dole out a fitting punishment right then and there, yet still somehow she found herself again being pulled into him. And she would be lying if she said she wasn't the slightest bit relieved to hear that Isla was now a past pursuit he could no longer attain. Urgently, she told him what was at stake – the gods wanted an answer as to the whereabouts of their lost comrade, and they knew that Hectate had been last spotted with a mortal from the Locker. It would only be a matter of time before they found him. Yet he remained silent. He was resigned to his fate now. He asked her to take a human form and sit by his side. She didn't quite know his meaning, so she took Isla's form. "No," he told her. "Your form." When she told him she didn't have one, he asked that she create one for herself. She picked a slender woman with olive skin and raven hair.

As she sat there next to him, Jones observed her; this mischievous, curious, spontaneous spirit of water and air that had kept him company for the better part of a decade without him knowing. For some reason, she had chosen him as the object of her affection. And looking upon the form she had chosen as her own, she was quite pretty. He stroked her cheek, and though she flinched at his touch, she didn't shy away as he kissed her. A true kiss, without deception or expectation. That was the place in which their love affair began. Both were lost souls looking for absolution and comfort, and in their shared sense of longing and loss, they found that in each other. Their passion for one another was intense, fiery, and insatiable. It was only Calypso and Jones, Jones and Calypso. And it stayed that way for many, many years.

Until at last, the gods wondered as to Calypso's whereabouts. She was known to wander freely, but the fact that she had gone unseen for so long was highly suspicious. She was found on the island with Jones and recognized him at once as the mortal who had been last seen with Hectate. Calypso was called upon and was forced to divulge the full truth of her affair and involvement in her cousin's disappearance. As payment for her folly, they charged her with the difficult task of assigning a fitting punishment for her lover that would not only befit his crimes, but also solve the soul ferrying problem in the Locker.

She returned to the love of her life feeling dashed. She told him what had transpired, and expressed the difficult position she was in. She presented him with his charges: She would build him a fine vessel upon which he would captain. Of all the souls dying or about to die at sea, he could offer those of his choice the option to help sail under his command, serving a century-long sentence. Upon successful completion of this servitude, the sailor would be allowed salvation, regardless of what misdeeds they had committed during their living days. His task would be to ferry all other souls to the other side, delivered unto their final resting places. He could freely pass between worlds appearing as a normal man, yet he himself could not walk on shore. The gods gave him an allowance of one day on land per each ten years served — a cruel reminder of the time he had lost with Isla.

Though Calypso had feared his response, she needn't have worried. Jones was highly responsive to the offer, for all he had ever longed for was his freedom and a copious amount of power. This so-called "punishment" allowed him both. The only cost was that of his newfound love for Calypso. He was terrified of losing her affection, so she promised that on his one day back ashore, she would be waiting for him on the island where they had met.

With the arrangement in progress, Calypso fashioned for him a glorious, domineering vessel with a forepeak that protruded and looked akin to the gnashing teeth of an apex monster. The ship had the ability to sink into the depths of the ocean in one realm and materialize on the other in but moments and could sail freely regardless of the wind patterns. Despite his pleasure with the vessel, which he named the Flying Dutchman, he felt immense sorrow when it was time to say goodbye to his lover. On the Dutchman's forecastle deck, the two shared one last moment together. While locked in an embrace, Calypso reached into the pouch where he kept his silver rings he had meant for Isla and took them in her hands. Jones was alarmed at this, concerned because these were the two tokens none but he knew had been used to bind Hectate. However, Calypso remained unaware of this and merely used them to make a token to remember one another during their extended time apart. Taking a ring in each palm, she closed her eyes and materialized two small crabs. She quickly closed her fist around each crab and ring, her arms quaking from the effort as she concentrated. When she opened each fist again, the silver from the rings had melded around each crab and had been turned into a music box that when opened, played a haunting tune. Calypso gave one to him, stating that no matter how far apart they were or for how long, they could always play the song for one another from across the sea. Before taking his leave, she gravely warned him that were he not to fulfill his duties as a ferryman of souls, he and his crew would be cursed to an eternity. They kissed once more, then Calypso dissolved back into her ocean home, leaving him there to command his vessel on his own as part of his new duty as captain of the Flying Dutchman.

Jones quickly warmed to his new life. His ship was the most formidable vessel on the ocean, and his voyaging was quite literally boundless. With every shipwreck he would come upon, he would offer the surviving men aboard a century-long servitude with the promise of ultimate salvation. Many were quick to agree, as they were not quite prepared to forsake their living days on the sea. Soon he had a sizable crew that though he ruled with an iron fist, nevertheless were grateful for a second chance at life. Together they facilitated the safe passage of souls to the other side and sought out dying souls still on Earth to offer servitude. In his spare time, Jones would exchange tokens and love letters with Calypso via a small, pewter chest that he had planted on his island in the Locker, with a large metal key he kept buried in the sand nearby. When they would pass by, he'd send one of his men to shore to deliver his letters to her and he would then return with Calypso's letters to him. These exchanges kept his hope afloat, and made the many hundreds of days leading up to the one in which he could finally be with her again feel much shorter. He also used the locket to quell his longing, and even had a pipe organ installed into his quarters where he would compose elegant ballads for his beloved.

After six years of doing the job, Jones came across a fishing vessel that had gotten lost one day and had become stranded in the middle of the sea. The Dutchman found the sailors aboard starving and close to death. Seven men were offered servitude. One was not. This one, Jones had recognized as Isla's husband. Though he could have left him there to die, Jones instead ran him through with his cutlass in a violent rage, then refused to ferry his soul upon finding it awaiting judgement in the Locker. This went against the conditions set upon him by the gods, and the following morning he found a mysterious growth on the side of his face. A barnacle. Though he tried to remove it, it appeared fused to his cheek.

Nevertheless, he continued his work, counting the days until his one day ashore with Calypso. It had concerned him that Calypso's correspondence had been few and far between in the recent months leading up to their reunion, but this didn't lessen his certainty that she would keep her word. When the day finally came, he felt relieved to at long last be standing on solid ground. He sat by their correspondence exchange chest and waited for her to arrive out of the ocean. He had thought of nothing else but the dark-haired beauty he had been separated from for the past ten years.

…but it never happened. Calypso never came.

And that was when the true nightmare began.