The building I had shown Jack turned out to be the palace. Though it was decrepit and not quite as sturdy as I had hoped it would be (the winds were buffeting the walls so hard, it almost seemed like the entire building was rocking), it was still quite a sight to behold. There was an aura of grandeur about this place, with trees and flowers having been carved into the floor's flagstones—which were enormous, mind you.

As we ventured a couple of yards further into the dimly-lit building, we could see more carvings: Angular warriors decorated in their native armor fought against one another while, in the center of the room, there was a plaque with a singular figure on it.

I squinted through the dark to look at the stone. My brows furrowed; the figure was angular like the warriors, but it was serpentine in shape and wore a feathered headdress.

"Quetzalcoatl," I murmured, remembering the tattoo on Torrents' chest and the figure on Cortes' scabbard.

"I don't trust this." I almost jumped, but managed to remain calm as I glanced over to see Tumen walking past me. "This is the mark of an Aztec god," he said, motioning at the stone.

"Oh good!" Jack chirped, clapping his hands together. "That means we're on the right track!"

I still don't know whether it had been the sharp sound of his clap that did it or if it was just poor timing, but as soon as the words left Jack's mouth, the floor opened up beneath Tumen. He cried out, twisting around in the air to try and throw himself towards us, but it was mostly useless. I say 'mostly' because Fitzy lunged forward and was just barely able to grab ahold of the boy's arms. But the combination of Tumen's momentum from falling and his own from flinging himself forward sent Fitzy sliding towards the edge, too.

Jack leapt forward, grabbing hold of Fitzy's ankles before he could fall and, in turn, Jean jumped forward and grabbed onto Jack's legs. I also darted forward, but instead of joining the chain, I reached over the edge and had grabbed hold of one of Fitzy's legs, relieving Jack of some of the weight. It looked like we had finally managed to stop Tumen from falling, but he cried out as one of his arms slipped free of Fitzy's grip, making us all jerk forward.

Swearing, I clung onto Fitzy's ankle with one hand while I dug my other hand into a crack in the floor behind me.

"'Bella!" Jack half grunted, half called. "Rip off your skirt!"

"What!?" she cried, understandably shocked.

"Just the outer one," he explained, voice strained. "Tie it around that column and grab onto Jean!" Both of us slid forward a couple of inches and I tightened my grip on both the floor and Fitzy's ankle.

A few moments later, we stopped sliding and, managing to glance over my shoulder, I could see that Arabella was clinging onto Jean. One end of her skirt was wrapped around the base of a toppled column while the other was tied around her waist, keeping her from being pulled forward. As I looked back down at Fitzy and Tumen, a bit of disgust came to my face when I smelled the distinct stench of foul water waft past my nose.

"Bit o' a close one, wasn't it, mate?" Jack grunted beside me.

"You can say that again."

With the combined strength of Jack, Jean, and me, we were able to haul Fitzy and Tumen out of the pit. The latter of the pair was swearing profusely in his native tongue; I'm certain whatever he was saying could make even the most hardened and tactless of sailors blush. Fitzy, however, seemed to be rather content despite the bleeding scratches on his face.

And, somehow, the git's hair looked utterly untouched by what just happened, with not a single hair out of place.

Along the edge of the pit, there were two edges, each barely a foot wide. After we had all calmed down, we made our way across, taking great care to not lose our footing. Thankfully, none of us did and we made it across without incident.

I was the last one to make it to the other side and, when I did, I found the others standing in the doorway of the next room, their eyes wide in shock and awe. Approaching them, I quickly found out why they were gawking: It was the throne room, filled with dozens and dozens of skeletons kneeling before the throne of their king, Stone-Eyed Sam. Above the long-dead king, there was a large hole in the ceiling, letting us see the storm as it continued to rage outside and a shiver ran down my spine; the tingling in my hands was beginning to crawl up my arms and into my shoulders.

'Please just be something inside this place,' I silently prayed, despite knowing better.

We started to walk towards the throne, doing our best to avoid stepping on any bones. It was inevitable, though, and we cringed every time we heard the distinct sound of crunching. Even Constance was finding it difficult to not step on any bones, though she was spared from breaking any due to her much lighter weight.

Jack suddenly let out a cry, making me jump and swear in surprise. "Look!" he groaned, his voice full of despair, as he pointed at the hole in the ceiling.

My brows furrowing, I looked up; it took a few seconds to find the cause of his grief. Then, I saw it: Hiding in the shadows was a rope, the end of it dangling right above Stone-Eyed Sam's throne. I swore again when, as my eyes continued to travel down the rope, I saw that the dead man's left arm was missing.

"You told us the legends say that Stone-Eyed Sam always held the sword in his left hand," Fitzy said, looking at Arabella.

Jean let out a low whistle, the sound bouncing off the walls around us. "It's been ripped right from his shoulder," he told us. "Probably by whoever left this rope."

As I got closer to the throne, the tingling gradually filled the entirety of my arms and I subtly glanced around for Torrents. Given that he was nowhere to be seen, I thought (and prayed) that he had been the one to leave the rope here. But when I crouched down to look at the footprints that had been left behind in the wet dust, I saw that something wasn't quite right about them—literally.

There were only left footprints to be found.

At first, I thought that the thief either had a pegleg or simply hadn't set their right foot on the ground. Closer inspection, however, told me that there weren't any spots where a pegleg had touched and that there were far too many footprints in general for a person to have just hopped around for a few minutes.

I was about to tell the others about my findings when Jack walked right past me, marching up the steps of the throne. He then plucked Sam's hat right off his head; somehow, the leather and feathers had seemed to avoid rotting away as the rest of his clothes had done. He then put it atop his own head, shifting it left and right for a moment as he worked on getting it to sit correctly.

"Jack! The man is dead!" Fitzy gasped, utterly aghast at Jack's actions. "You're desecrating his remains!"

"It's the least he owes me," Jack retorted, putting his hands on his hips, "considerin' all the trouble we went through t' get here." He then looked down at me. "Drystan, how do I look?"

"It'd suit you more without the feathers," I replied, standing up.

He puffed his chest out slightly like a proud parakeet.

Shaking her head, Arabella sat down on the steps and let out a heavy sigh. "I can't believe this," she grumbled. "We came all this way—t' the right island, even!—an' the most we get out o' it is a bloody hat."

"A disappointing end to our adventure," Fitzy sighed, leaning against the throne. "I suppose it'll be bananas and some horrid wife for me now…"

My brow rose at his comment, but I held my tongue. "I'm going to go look ahead," I told them, "just in case there's something we might miss."

"A good idea, Drystan," Jack said, giving me a nod of approval. He then paused, a look of contemplation coming to his face. "Wait." Grabbing my arm, he led me some ways away from the group of depressed adventurers. "The sword might not be here, but somethin' worthwhile might still be hidden in this place," he told me, his voice just loud enough for me to hear. "Stone-Eyed Sam was a pirate long before he was a king, aye?"

"Evidently, yes."

"An' what do pirates love above almost everythin' else?" A small grin started to come to my lips; that had been enough of an answer for him. "Somewhere in this place is the git's cache o' treasure. If we find it, we'll be rich enough that it won't matter if we've the Sword o' Cortes or not."

I nodded in understanding. "Where should I start looking, then?"

He smirked. "Here's your first lesson in piracy, mate: When it comes t' treasure, trust no one an' keep it close at hand, savvy?" He then patted my biceps and headed back over to the others before I could say anything.

'Trust no one and keep it close at hand,' I mentally repeated as I started down a dark corridor. 'That gives me three ideas right off the bat: The throne room, his bedroom, and his privy—if there is a privy in this place.'

The throne room, I thought, would have been too obvious an answer. He would want to keep his treasure close, but not that close—especially when that was a room that had once been visited every day by dozens of people. The privy, too, I quickly crossed off my mental list; it would not only be impractical to hide treasure in such a place, but it'd also be quite disgusting.

With those two rooms unlikely, I decided I had to find his bedroom.

I pushed open a pair of double doors; decades ago, they might've been locked, but now the wood was so overcome with dry rot, they practically fell apart as I pushed on them. Poking my head into the room, I found that it was the dining hall. No skeletons could be found in here, but the table was laden with dust-covered place settings. Normally, I would have gone over to inspect the plates and goblets to see what they were made of, but I decided against it.

By now, the tingling in my arms had receded back to being in just my hands. 'I wonder if it's because the city's death was brought about by Sam's curse?' I thought, continuing down the hall. 'That would explain why it got so strong when I was by his skeleton, at least…'


In my search for any sort of treasure, I went down many hallways, opened many doors, and found many rooms. None of them looked to be very important; however, I did come across a privy and found a skeleton standing in the corner of the small closet. Given the blunt stick still held in his hand and the once-nice bit of cloth draped over his forearm, I guessed them to be the late Groom of the Stool.

"Poor bloke wasn't dealt too good of a hand in life or in death," I muttered, shaking my head before continuing on my way.

Another odd thing I stumbled across was a partially-caved in room. To both my amusement (and to my relief, as I was quite hungry), there was a mature banana tree growing up from the moss-covered rubble.

With a small bunch of bananas under one arm and a half-eaten banana in my other hand, I went back the way I had come so I could go down one final hallway. Using my foot to push open the first door I came across, my brows rose in pleasant surprise: I had finally reached the private chambers. Judging by the lack of décor in this first one, it was just a guest suite.

'Kings and pirates both like grandeur,' I thought, taking a bite of my banana as I looked down the hall, 'so methinks Sam's room is behind those double-doors there at the end.' Forgoing the other rooms for now, I went down the hall, tossing my now-empty banana peel to the ground.

Upon reaching the doors, I gave them a shove to see if they were locked only to end up swearing and hopping back as both of them fell forward, landing on the ground with a clatter. When they hit the ground, a small cloud of dust rose into the air; I waited for it to settle a bit before walking into the room.

"Definitely a king's bedroom," I muttered to myself. Years ago, the décor of the room would have been opulent and excessive, but now the majority of the fine paintings, heavy velvet curtains, and other such luxuries were ruined by a combination of age, dust, and dry rot.

I started my search by going through any and all drawers I could find: In the dresser, in the vanity table, in the base of the wardrobe…I even searched inside it to see if there was a false back, but all I found were Sam's various coats. Being protected by the wardrobe's oak doors, though, meant that they were in better shape than the rest of the place. As such, I paused my search to go through the selection.

'This one looks decent enough,' I thought, trying on a brown coat. Or was it dark green? It was hard to tell in the dim lighting, to be honest. I adjusted it slightly and pulled the sides together as if I were going to button it up. 'Fits quite well, too…And it's a lighter weight material than the usual wool. Looks like I've got a new coat.'

I crossed the room, intent on searching the nightstands on either side of the bed next. However, I never reached them. As I got to the side of the bed, I heard a loud, wooden groan that was quickly followed by a loud crack. Before I had the chance to react, the floor collapsed beneath my feet and I swore as I fell.

To my luck, the fall wasn't very far—about seven feet at most—but my landing left my backside aching and the wind knocked from my lungs. I'm still not entirely sure if I had passed out for a few minutes or if my mind was just too addled by the fall, but when I finally realized what had happened, the dust had settled around me. Wincing, I pushed myself into an upright position and rubbed the back of my head only to pause.

I was surrounded by treasure. Piles and piles of gold coins, statues of pagan deities, magnificent jewelry, priceless pottery—you name it, it could be found in this trove.

"Drystan? Drystan, you around here?"

"We heard ye yell! Are ye alright?"

Jack's and Arabella's voices drew me out of my stupor and, after shaking my head, I called back, "Yes, I'm fine!"

"Where are you?" Fitzy called out. I could hear the confusion in his voice—but I could also tell the three of them were now in Sam's bedroom.

"I fell through the floor," I replied as I stood up. "But I made an extremely rich discovery when I did!" A quiet swear left my mouth when Jack's head suddenly appeared over the hole above me. He let out a long, impressed whistle and, a few seconds later, Arabella, Jean, Tumen, and Fitzy's faces appeared above me as well.

"What'd I tell you, Drystan?" Jack grinned. "Where there are kings an' pirates, there's bound t' be gold."

After a small search, Jack found a trapdoor hiding under Sam's bed and the four of them clambered down the stairs to join me. Within minutes, we were all covered in jewelry. Arabella's eyes were as wide as saucers as she held a string of fine pearls and a gold chain encrusted with rubies. She was so entranced by the jewelry, she didn't notice when Jack set a small crown atop her head.

"Do you think the Barnacle could hold all of this?" Fitzy asked, going through a chest filled with pieces of eight and golden goblets.

"Probably not," I answered. I unsheathed a small dagger, its pommel lined with amethysts. "This much gold would weigh her down too much." Looking over at Tumen and Jean, I found the boys covered in necklaces and bracelets; Constance was rubbing up against a cat statue carved from onyx.

"We wouldn't be able t' take all the gold back, anyway," Jack said. "There's only one chest left down here that's intact enough t' carry loot."

Jean let out a content sigh; he was now holding his arm up, admiring the way one of the bracelets looked in the dingy lighting. "What an adventure—what good fortune—this has turned out to be!"

A look of realization came to Fitzy's face and he nearly dropped the decorative sword he was holding. "This is a fortune," he murmured, "which means—" He let out a triumphant laugh, startling us slightly. "I shan't need my father's fortune now! He can disown me for all I care! With even just a tiny portion of this treasure trove, I could return to England as my own man!"

"Please do," I heard Jack grumble.

"I can do whatever I want, too!" Arabella gasped, her eyes widening as well. "I could buy my own tavern. Or—Or a whole estate an' be a lady o' leisure!"

"I'm going to get myself some new clothes," Jean chirped, grinning from ear to ear. "And maybe even my own ship!"

"And a horse!" Tumen added.

"What about ye, Emil?" Arabella asked, turning towards me with a large smile. "What'll ye do with your portion o' the treasure?"

Before I had the chance to answer, however, Jack climbed atop one of the smaller piles of gold, a stern expression on his face and his hands on his hips. "Now wait just a moment," he said, frowning. "We're t' do nothin' with this treasure unless it has t' do with financin' our great quest," he firmly declared. "After all, we still have t' find the Sword o' Cortes!"

Arabella and Fitzy stared at him in confusion for a moment. As they looked down at the treasure they held, though, I could tell they were beginning to remember our original mission.

"What's so great about this sword?" Tumen questioned, his brows furrowed. "She seems to get a lot of people killed…"

A smirk came to Jack's lips. "It has great power," he began, "the power t' cloud men's minds; the power t' conquer empires; the power t' forge kingdoms! An' all this power can be ours." Then, clearing his throat, he quickly added, "But, much more importantly, we can keep it out o' the hands o' the pirates that are searchin' for it. An' we can maybe even rid ourselves o' the pirates o' the Caribbean once an' for all. Then the seas will be free for us t' rule!"

We all stared at him. I cocked my brow slightly; why did he want to get rid of pirates when he was one himself…? Not to mention, he was teaching me how to be a pirate myself. It was definitely something I'd have to bring up with him later.

"Er, a bit ambitious, are ye, lad?" Arabella asked. Then, with a chuckle and a smile, she added, "I'm all for ambition."

Fitzy nodded. "Agreed. It is quite a noble cause," he declared. "I completely devote myself and my sword—" He paused, looking down at the uselessly decorative sword he held only to smile sheepishly, "—my other sword—to avenging my sister."

From the corner of my eye, I saw Tumen and Jean exchange looks before shrugging. "Why not? I've worked on a merchant vessel ever since I was a child. I've been through enough pirate attacks for a lifetime," the latter said, his tone thoughtful. "Oui, why not? Pirates are an evil lot—but, I must admit, the power and empire part? I like that, too."

"Beats hauling bananas around," Tumen said, unknowingly reminding me that I had a bunch of bananas waiting for me somewhere upstairs.

Jack then looked at me and I, too, shrugged. "I'm in," I said, grinning.

"Then we're agreed!" he practically cheered. "Now, let's get this chest o' coins back t' the Barnacle so we can continue with our quest!" He used his foot to close the lid of a chest filled with pieces of eight and loose gems; it landed with a dull 'thud' on the lower half.

I crammed a few more handfuls of coins and jewelry into the pockets of my coat as Jack and Fitzy hoisted the chest up off the ground. With the two of them leading, we left the treasure room one by one, taking care to not drop any of our precious treasures (or my bananas, which I retrieved from the floor by the door). The hallway had grown a bit darker by this point, having gone from afternoon to late afternoon.

As we passed through the throne room, Jack suddenly stopped, making Fitzy practically fall on his rump. "Wait a minute. I just noticed somethin'." Setting his end of the chest down, he went over to the throne and started to inspect the ground around it.

It was then I remembered that, earlier, I was going to tell them about my findings, but Jack had distracted me. "Oh, yeah, the footprints—there aren't any right ones. Just left ones. No signs of a pegleg, either," I explained. "I was going to tell you earlier, but—"

"Hold up, only left feet?" Jean questioned, a mixture of horror and concern coming to his face. When I nodded, he and Tumen both cried out in fear.

"Left-Foot Louis!" they cried, making Arabella blanche.

I suddenly froze, my eyes widening—but not from the revelation of who the prints belonged to. Out of nowhere, the tingling had taken over my whole being and it did it with a vengeance. It shot up my arms, through my shoulders, and then all through my body, stunning me for a few seconds.

"We need to leave now!" I cried, interrupting the others as they were talking about…something. I had been too distracted to pay attention.

"What are you—" Jack began, but he was cut off as the sound of lightning striking rock could be heard. Part of the ceiling caved in a second later, large pieces of rock and wood went crashing to the ground.

Strutting down the newly-formed pile of rubble was Torrents, looking just as enormous, angry, and crazy as he had back in Tortuga.


A/N: Hello, my lovely readers~! For those of you who don't follow my Hobbit fanfics, a small bit of news: I no longer have a set uploading schedule due to Real Life being too chaotic at the moment. However, I will continue posting my fics in the same order (Nightmares, Azying, Sparrow). With that said, I hope you stick around and continue to enjoy the story ❤