A curtain of smoke, thinned and blown by the wind, was the first thing to be made of Port Wagoo, seen from their approach miles away. It stretched lopsided thousands of feet into the sky. It was the second telltale sign that they were already too late, a conclusion to the dreaded suspicion they had upon the first sign, that being when the Stalker abruptly stopped replying to them on the radio.

Kit turned from the window he was looking out of, and punched the aluminum wall.

"There was nothing we could do, boy," said Don Karnage.

"Swing us around low, mate," Flynn told helmsman Jock. "See if there's anyone left."

At that, Kit looked up at Flynn. "You think there's survivors?"

They were only a mile or so now from the island, and there was no doubt it had been thoroughly burned, buildings and trees black and decimated. Even the massive gunship that dwarfed the main port was charred.

Flynn shook his head. "Don't hold a candle to that."

"Then what's to see," scoffed Kit.

"If they're still there."

"Huh?"

Flynn went back to the cargo deck, and pushed open a side door. Kit and the captain followed him; other pirates filed in behind them, rubbernecking to see. As the zeppelin made a low pass over the shore, something oddly familiar struck Kit and Karnage ― though the palm trees looked more like burnt matchsticks, the beach was largely unaffected damage-wise, but it didn't look like it should. Something permeated that was not smoke or shade, despite the sun shining unobstructed. The sand seemed gray, the water in the surf unreflective, and even the sky, as they got closer to the island, seemed to pale. They had seen a shore like this before, once. Kit felt something cold and numbing ― no idea what it was ― and it made his heartbeat surge. He shuddered, obviously scared.

"Easy, lad," said Flynn. "You're okay. I feel it, too. I'm only more used to it."

"What… wh-what is it?"

"Its presence lingers here. The Dark. Bloodfang's sorcery unfettered, its evil set loose upon this place, weakened what barrier exists between its realm and ours." His eyes narrowed as he observed the island. "This is how it gets in. Little by little."

Kit looked up at Karnage. "It was like this at Cabo Diablo."

"For the same reason, you can lay to that," said Flynn. "You mentioned Cabo Diablo had bones strewn about."

"They were all over the place," said Kit.

"Not anymore, I wager."

The zeppelin moved along low and slow, and the ruination of the port came into detail. Here and there, flames still licked at tree trunks and remains of incinerated trading posts, but not much was left that could yet burn. Random personal effects and scraps of clothing could be made out among the debris of the razed town, scraps that looked shredded. The people that wore them ― nowhere to be seen. Even the gunship was vacant. A small seaplane floated near what used to be a short pier, but only charred remains were left of both. A bicycle lying in a cratered dirt road still had a wheel slowly spinning.

"Did everyone… get away?" There was a sliver of hope in Kit's voice, but it was smothered in doubt.

Flynn looked at him, frowning, then at Karnage. "No one got away. It's what I feared. Bloodfang turned them ― what's left of them ― thralls to Jack's bidding. They did not escape." Gripping the door jamb he stuck he leaned his head out the door, scanning the empty horizon. "The dead are on the move."