A rather odd feeling it was, Jack thought, to slip through the ocean water as if it were not there at all even though it was all around him. It was so dark that he could not see, but he could feel and what he felt was altogether strange. There was such warmth... and in the darkest of places where it seemed there should be only death cold. He supposed it was Bootstrap's warmth, but Will's words kept their timbre in his head with a much more heated resonance.

"I don't trust it."

A glance upward showed no sign of Will following after. In the solemnity of the darkness, Jack gazed at the silvery thread slipping through his fingers. With a frown, he wondered what might happen were he to let go. He was near to testing the theory when a glance aside revealed a set of brown eyes glaring at him from under a pair of knit brows. Feigning innocence, Jack smirked back at Will Turner.

The smug sentiment faded, however, when it seemed that the both of them felt the threads slipping from their grasp. Eyes wide, they both looked above, and saw the orb of light descending upon them. It was gathering its threads as it went. Jack ignored the accusatory glance from Will and glanced below.

A blanket of green below was fast approaching. Instinct told Jack that it would be no good to hurtle toward it and so he gripped the thread as tight as possible, kicking out at Will to nod such instruction. It seemed too late, however, as the end of the thread was tugged from both their grasping fingers.

A wave of fear rolled through Jack as he felt himself falling fast and free through the thickening water. He watched, transfixed, as the yellow orb floated to a stop. Its brilliant flash lit all and golden water streamed up toward it, all around them. Startled, Jack grabbed for Will. He missed just as he felt a splash and a burst of air. The water gone, he let loose the cry that had been burning his lungs. He heard Will's over the snap of branches and felt then the brush of foliage that he realized meant they were falling through trees.

Will's landing thudded in his ears and he braced himself for his own. To his dismay he landed with a sickening smack. It sent a spray of slime into the air. With a wince, he opened his eyes. He saw a very much amused Will Turner standing on a bank above the swampy pond. Jack opened his mouth to respond but was promptly splattered in slippery muck.

"Well Captain Sparrow," said Will, grinning as he offered forth a dry hand, "welcome to the jungle."

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

Neris woke with a start. Straight up she sat and found that she was pitched into blackness darker than sleep. Apparently the lantern had gone out, she surmised, albeit a bit too groggily. She shook her head to clear the silver trails of dreamland fog—too much of it thanks to the many minds mixing and twisting with her own—and gazed warily at the lantern that had indeed gone out. To the window she looked sharply, and her eyes narrowed on the spot—the dark spot that should have been a green orb of light.

The doors burst open behind her. Isaac Faust rushed in, a lit lantern in his hand. It did naught to light the darkness that had fallen over them, but did nicely illuminate his panicked expression that Neris felt before she saw. As she crossed the room to him, he lifted the lantern to see her. A scowl twisted his face.

"It's gone—"

"Yes, I—"

"The stars have all disappeared—"

"Yes, I—"

"The moon shines no more. There is nothing but darkness all around us, and—"

"I see—"

"And the beacon we were to sail after is gone!" Isaac grabbed her roughly and shook her a bit. "What's happening, Neris? I know that you know!" When she did not respond save for a glare, he growled. "You know everything! Tell me what is happening!"

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

Captain Jack Sparrow supposed that he should have been pleased beyond imaginable belief—but he was not. No, he was not pleased at all. In fact, he found guiltily that he'd been hoping that Antolune would stay lost. It wasn't that he didn't want to be there, or to find the mythical sword of the mythical deity. No... that, he decided with a shrug, was fine and dandy. He could even get past the fact that he'd been welcomed there in a pool of murky muck. But that he had to make his way to the sword through a dense, dark, and dangerous jungle—a wet and wild forest, really—was more than slightly off-putting.

At the very least, it seemed that the beacon's light still shone above. It was difficult to say, for the thick roof of greenery only allowed slivers of light through the darkness. Still, he was certain there would be no light at all if it were not for the light that had sunk with them.

"How will we know," asked Will, "where to look?"

Jack stopped walking, the hand that had been toying with his sword going instantly idle.

Will folded his arms. "We won't, will we?"

"Don't worry," Jack said, clapping him on the shoulder, "I've a good idea." Ignoring the look of disbelief on Turner's face, he gulped back his fear of the foliage and forged ahead through it. To his relief he heard the soft sigh that meant Will intended to follow after. Not that he actually needed the whelp—no, of course he didn't, for he was, afterall, Captain Jack Sparrow—whose toes something indiscernible had just slithered over—who'd disappeared. "Will—" he broke off, blanching as he saw a flowering bush ahead shake, "WILL WHEREAREYOU?!"

"Right here, Jack."

The pirate, somewhat becalmed, glanced down at the hand that had fallen on his shoulder. "Oh." Its weight, and stability, forced the visions of unhinging tigers' jaws—full of saber-sharp teeth—out of his head and he sobered a bit. "Good. Wouldn't want you to fall behind. The jungle's not all fun and games... could be dangerous, you know." With that, he took a cautious step forward and hoped his nervous glance about went unnoticed. "Never know what could be alurk."

"Well I suppose I should stay close to you then," Will said dryly, hand darting forward to smack a palm frond out of their way, "since the danger lurking so silently may make itself known by all your shrieking."

Jack shot him what he hoped was a venomous look but could not comment for something that sounded a bit too much like foliage shuddering seemed a bit too close for comfort. His gaze, more worried than venomous he imagined, switched to the tall, green plant he'd just brushed by. Indeed it was still shivering, its green stalk swaying just a little. The way its long leaves unfurled brought to mind the image of a plant with hands and, unwilling to dwell on that horror, Jack hastened his step forward—and was clutched suddenly by the neck. Whatever it was twisted snug about his throat. It strangled a startled cry from him and in his panic he turned to fight it. The move was in vain, however, as whatever it was only tightened its grip. His hands flew to it just as he heard the sound of a blade hissing in the air and slicing through something a bit more tangible than that. To his relief, the grip slackened and he glanced down at the vise that fell away to the ground.

"Only vines, Jack," Will said, tucking the late Scotsman's sword into its scabbard. He arched a brow. "I daresay they aren't out to get you."

Not willing to let the whelp ruffle him further than the vegetation had, Jack lifted his chin and stared down his nose at the smirking blacksmith. "You never know what could be out to get you, Mister Turner. That's why I say it is always best to keep a sharp eye."

"Perhaps you should heed your own advice then," Will suggested. "Instead of stepping so blindly ahead, perhaps you should watch where you are going." His own chin lifted, then fell just as quickly and he glowered at the pirate. "But then you don't really know where you're going to begin with..."

Captain Jack Sparrow had had enough sass. It was simply intolerable the way the whelp sometimes questioned the way in which he did things... especially, he noted with annoyance, when in the midst of a deep, dark jungle on a sunken island in the center of the Caribbean Sea. The circumstances led Jack to take a bold stance before Will—hand on his hip, he stared down at him through narrow eyes. "Are you telling me, lad, that you doubt your captain?"

Will didn't answer, but his brows knit in consternation.

Pleased with that, Jack let his head lilt to the side and raised his brows. "Well?"

Will hesitated.

Unpleased with that, Jack's eyes narrowed further with a glare.

"It isn't that I doubt you, Jack," said Will finally, with some matter of caution in his voice, "it's that I doubt your methods."

Pleased with that, Jack smiled smugly at him. "Me methods, Mister Turner, are tried and true—wizened by the wisest of wisdom..." He paused and listened to the jungle around them. Heavily silent it was... for the most part. He canted his head toward that which wasn't and took a step ahead.

Will frowned and followed. "What's that?"

But Jack wasn't sure. And, actually, he didn't care for not being sure whilst being in the midst of a deep, dark jungle on a sunken island in the center of the Caribbean Sea. "How should I know?" He was vaguely aware of the sour note in his voice, but much more aware of the raspy ripping sound he was stepping cautiously closer to. "Isn't as if I possess the uncanny sight your father was gifted with."

Will halted.

Jack glanced down at the hand that gripped his arm and followed its arm up to Will's narrow eyes. He was fully aware, then, that he'd said something Will hadn't read about, and realized, then, that William would have definitely not writ about what he'd mentioned for fear of the knowledge falling into the careless grip of the wrong hands. "Intuition," he explained, gently removing the hand from his arm. "William was blessed—or cursed, as he so liked to put it—with a sense of sight unknown to most but the Intuits themselves."

Not caring to venture further down that road, about as little as he cared to venture in the direction they were heading, Jack quickened his step ahead. He was not surprised to hear Will's steps hurry after, but the sound did slump his shoulders as he knew the whelp wouldn't settle for simple answers such as that which he'd given.

"Why did he not write about it?"

"Think about it," Jack said in a low voice, trying to listen to the jungle. "If you were a pirate, Will... drifting about with other greedy ne'er-do-well scoundrels... would you want them to find out that you had the ability to make them the richest, most powerful pirates that e'er sailed the seven seas?" Pausing, he turned to look at the whelp who seemed to be struggling with the idea. "Open books are easily read, son. Your father kept his closed, but more importantly... he kept what he didn't want to be read out of it. Savvy?"

Will seemed unaffected by that, his brow still furrowed.

Jack had the gnawing suspicion that whatever it was that was troubling Will wasn't really why he hadn't writ about his mind's gift in the journal he kept, but something much larger that the blacksmith could not yet put into words. He waited, patiently, listening all the while to the whispering of the trees. It seemed almost coherent, that whisper of the whistling of wind—wind that he did not feel. A prickle of fear shivered him much as the plants they'd brushed past.

"Was it not... death, then, but the intuition he possessed—was that how he read my mind?"

"William didn't do that," said Jack, distracted by the flustering foliage, "never did..."

Will frowned. "But..."

Impatient, Jack scowled. "Your father never read minds. It was his unerring sense of right and wrong that kept him from such a..." Jack frowned, a sudden sinking feeling making heavy his shoulders. They drooped. "Trick..."

The raspy ripping sound was getting louder, reverberating all around them. Yet it was not so much an unnatural sound. It was rather earthly, and coupled with the way the ground was a-tremor beneath their feet—and there was yet no wind, but the trees were still shivering, the fronds of the withered palms furling and unfurling—

"If he didn't read my mind," Will said slowly, "who did?"

"Well. That..." Jack said, gaze flitting about them as the ground shook, plantlife shivered, and the sound grew louder yet, "is a good question."

It was then that the raspy ripping sound was loudest of all, and then that they both saw before them what it was. One wilted plant sprang to life, its green fronds shuddering with the effort. It rose tall toward the beacon's faint yellow light and did not stop until its gnarled stalk ripped itself from the earth, all its knotty roots sending soil flying as they rent the earth and unfurled on the ground.

Jack blanched and, unlike the shivering plant, was rooted to the spot. A hundred morbid thoughts screamed in his head, begging to be heard, but he couldn't hear one of them. He didn't have to hear them to know that this, this terrible sight before him—and, he noted with wide eyes, all around the both of them as more plants sprang to life and towered o'er them—was his worst nightmare. The jungle they'd been lurking had been lurking itself. Its plants had come to life.

To Jack's horror, he heard again the fast swish of blade through air. A whisper of a slice was followed by a shrill whistle and a fluttering so furious that fronds flew. Dismayed, Jack watched them burst out all around he and Will, whom he turned to glare at as the plants that the whelp hadn't slashed crept closer.

"You know," he said, "I do so hate to be the bearer of bad news, Will, but that was probably what most sensible folk would refer to as doing something very stupid."

Will glared back. But then his narrow eyes grew wide. "Look out!"

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

"I do not know."

Neris' confession made Isaac Faust's grip all the more painful, but it was not what sprang tears to her eyes. What hurt most of all was that something had happened unbeknownst to her—and that she'd sent Jack Sparrow and Will Turner blindly to face whatever had come to fruition. She knew well—too well for all the fear fogging her head—that it was the same anxiety that had so shaken Isaac. When disbelief and anger flared in his blue eyes, she mirrored them.

"I did not foresee it!"

Heavy footsteps that could not be anyone else's save for the big captain's plodded up the stairs. They came to an abrupt stop. A low grumble sounded from the spot. "Wha's the trouble?"

Isaac ignored him. "You foresee all!" His eyes narrowed on Neris. "Do not try to turn tricks on me, you deceptive daughter of Neptune!"

"Laddy—"

"Turn tricks?!" The Intuit Priestess cut Samson off. Despite the instinctual nudge that told her she should feel compassion for the man who been but a boy when last she saw him, she was quite angry that he had had the gall to speak to her so. "Not on you, Isaac. Not on any of you! To mine friends I am no deceiver."

"Lady—"

"A likely story," Isaac thundered over Samson. "But one I refuse to believe... You've led us to danger for the sake of an old flame, Neris!"

The accusation stunned all the rest of the emotion from Neris and burned her afire. Smoldering, she stared back at Isaac with as much indignance as her reeling mind and bleeding heart would allow. There was nothing then but darkness and anger and resentment—and it was mirrored in Isaac's eyes as well as her own.

"Eh?"

The both of them turned to look at Samson even though they could not see him. Neris knew, however, that as startled as he was, he was quickly working out what Isaac had said in his head and would soon look to her with the same suspicion. Wary of it, she turned woeful eyes up at Sparrow's son.

"Tell the truth," he said, calmer than he had been but with much more threat in his voice. "Tell us, Neris, does this voyage of ours end you up in your dead lover's favor? Is it that we seek something that will gain you his good graces from the grave he went into before it was he forgave you for having almost tore apart his family?"

"No, Isaac," she said, words faltering for the first time in a long time, "it was his family, not my heart, that I wished to see mend."

"Right and I'm the Commodore—"

"Laddy," growled Samson, "tha's enough!" He stomped over into the light and the angry glare on his face, the jagged scar twitching with the tensing of his jaw, was enough to stun the both of them silent. "Both of you, enough! First," he said, poking a big finger at Isaac, "tha's no way to speak to a lovely lass! And second," he said, poking a big finger of the other hand at Neris, "he best not be right, Neris, or I'll have yer fishy head!"

Neris and Isaac exchanged wary glances.

"Las'ly," the great Scot growled, grabbing the lantern and foisting it in the direction of the empty chaise lounge, "where be Jacky's dove?"

But they didn't have time to answer him, for Elizabeth Turner flew in the doors, stumbling in the darkness over the upturned corner of the rug. The lantern in her hand swung unsteady, but she righted herself and it before any harm was done. Her brown eyes were wide. "We'll soon be upon the Pearl!"

Isaac frowned. "How would you know that? We can not see anything!"

"But the priests can," Mrs. Turner said, glancing o'er her shoulder, "And they said so!"

With a glare of warning at Neris and Isaac, Samson strode past Elizabeth. She turned to watch him disappear on deck in darkness. Hearing the two make haste across the room, she lifted her lantern and followed the noise, frowning at the chaise before her. "Where is Alice?"

"Well," growled Isaac, his angry gaze once more finding Neris, "that'd be the question, wouldn't it?"

--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---

When Will Turner needed to be fast, he was faster. Jack was not surprised to find himself shoved unceremoniously to the ground. He bit face first into the grit. Over his grumble he heard the distinct sound of the sword slicing through air and stalk that meant one of the plants had been ready to strike him. As fronds filled the air he leapt to his feet, fixed a shrugging Will with a glare, and grabbed the fool's wrist. Mindful of the plants suddenly sweeping in on them, he ducked the both of them under one swiping green hand. There he tugged Will into a run.

It wasn't a very fast run for all the dodging of uprooted foliage, and more haphazard than most of the running the both of them had ever done, but it seemed well necessary and so they scurried through the deep, dark jungle avoiding certain death at every twist and turn. Several times greenery charged them and several times they ducked out of its path in the nick of time. There was a moment of hesitation as the foliage surrounded them once again, and then Will drew the Scotsman's sword once more.

"Was this part of your plan?" With the so-called flowers of fate, Will fended off both raving entities that rushed him. He took the split second of rest to glance over his shoulder to the pirate at his backside. "Doing battle with the very vines around us?"

"I suppose you mean finding the greenery gone mad with hate?" Jack dodged three of the creatures in one swoop and stooped down as another tried to strangle him in the green of its grasp. "No! Not quite what I imagined!"

Will spun in a circle, swinging wide. One after another he cut down the plants at the stalk. The fronds flew in the air, and he ducked as the fourth's green limbs shot out to smack him upside the head. Grunting with the effort, he slashed at its left limb and spun to slash at its right. When finally he'd reduced the plantlife to a pile of fronds, they scurried onward. Jack tried to keep his wits about him—glad they hadn't abandoned him altogether—and tried to keep both he and Will toward the goal he'd had in mind despite the young Turner's angry glares whenever he was tugged in an opposite direction.

"We just came that way!"

"Did you truly doubt me, Will Turner?"

Jack, pleased with the understanding dawning on the other man's face, tugged Will back and turned on his heel. His foot flexed. He'd have run if something had not wrapped itself around his ankle. Instead, he fell face first forward to the ground.

"Must I really answer that?"

Growling, Jack retrieved the dagger from its secure spot in his sash and glared at the vines wrapping around him. They'd started at his ankle and were slithering up his leg. With one swift swipe he slashed through them and leapt to his feet. "I don't think it will be necessary at this point in time." His gaze flit to the towering tree that was lumbering up behind Will and he arched a brow. "However, I do think it's time we pick up the pace."

But Will was not having it this time, his arms folding themselves stubbornly o'er his chest. "The entire jungle is after us, Jack. To where shall we run?"

"Far," Jack said nervously, gaze switching between his friend and the tree slowly approaching. It was the most menacing yet, its limbs thick and twisted and swinging with every step. "Far away!"

Will frowned. "Away from what?"

The ground trembled. It shook the both of them. They reached for each other and Will's wide eyes sought out the sight that Jack had saw.

"From that!"

"Oh," said Will.

One of the limbs swung at him. Jack grabbed him by the back of his vest and wrenched him back in time to watch the wood whomp the grit at their feet with a force that would have planted the blacksmith in the ground. Stunned still, they turned horrified gazes on each other and then up at the walloping tree lumbering o'er them.

"Run," breathed Jack.

"Where?!"

"That way," the pirate captain pointed out. "Most assuredly that way!"

They leapt in that opposite direction, narrowly avoiding a swipe of limb. Branches scraped Will's shoulders and the backs of Jack's knees but they didn't stop running. Not even as one of the striking limbs thrashed Jack's side, knocking him into Will, did they stop running. They stumbled a bit, but kept quickly ahead, dodging other plants that popped up along the way. Those seemed to slow the tree somewhat, for it seemed hesitant to stomp its fellow green friends.

"Good idea!"

"Yes," Jack shouted back, "I thought so myself!"

When the ground shook less and they could see only the top of the tree swaying in the distance above the other swaying but otherwise stationary sentinels, they slowed down. Jack led on toward that which he'd been keeping an ear on, glad for once that his hypersensitive hearing that made him over-aware of that which was hidden in deep of the dark jungle. The sound of running water had tipped him off, and when he and Will cleared through a swaying bunch of immobile plants his suspicions were confirmed. Admittedly, he felt slightly victorious.

"This, Mister Turner," he said, pride swelling his chest as he swept a hand toward the winding black river, "is what we were running to." He shook his head and smirked at Will. "I can't believe you doubted me for even a smidge of a second." Allowing himself a bit of a grin, he patted the incredulous Turner on the shoulder and ambled toward the river's edge. "I am Captain Jack Sparrow, afterall."