The Black Pearl did not announce herself; she never does.
Edward noticed her first as a wrongness in the water, a shape that refused to sway with the swell, a shadow too solid to be reef or cloud. She lay just off the coast, anchored near a jagged spine of stone that clawed out of the sea like broken teeth. At its center, a cave gaped wide, mist curling from its mouth as though the island itself were breathing.
"There," Edward said quietly.
Jack Sparrow followed his gaze and smiled with something close to affection. "Ah," he murmured. "She does love a dramatic entrance by not having one."
Elizabeth went still. Will's shoulders tightened beside her.
The seagull perched on the rail leaned forward, issued a low, disapproving squeak, and ruffled its feathers as though offended by the ship's mere existence.
They didn't sail closer.
They didn't need to.
Boats slipped into the water without ceremony, oars dipping carefully, sound swallowed by fog and surf. With every stroke, the cave grew larger, shadows thickening, the Pearl looming behind them like a predator certain its prey would return.
Inside, the air changed.
It pressed in cooler, heavier, wrong.
Torchlight revealed gold piled high in careless abundance. Coins, goblets, chains, and ornaments were stolen from a hundred lives and stacked without reverence. The treasure did not shine the way gold should. Its gleam was dull, exhausted, as though even it were tired of the curse.
Edward felt it crawl across his skin.
Jack whistled softly. "Still hideous," he said. "I always hope time might improve it."
Elizabeth stepped closer despite herself. "This is what did it," she said. "All of it."
"The gold didn't choose the curse," Edward replied. "But it doesn't care who it destroys."
Will stood rigid at the edge of the hoard, staring as if the coins might move. "You're certain this will work?"
"The curse binds blood to debt," Edward said evenly. "What was taken must be returned. It doesn't want death, just balance."
Jack tilted his head. "You do have a way of making horrifying things sound tidy."
The seagull fluttered down and landed atop a mound of coins. One slipped under its claw and clinked softly.
Every head snapped toward the sound.
Nothing happened.
The bird puffed up triumphantly and squeaked.
"Do not let it touch anything else," Elizabeth hissed.
Edward scooped the gull up without comment. It protested loudly.
At the center of the hoard stood a stone basin, dark with old stains.
Jack gestured toward it. "Ah. Fond memories."
Will drew his knife slowly. The sound was far too loud.
Elizabeth caught his wrist. "Wait."
"This ends it," Will said, meeting her eyes. "For everyone."
Edward set a steady hand on his shoulder. "It won't kill you. The curse wants closure—not bodies."
Will nodded once and cut his palm.
Blood welled bright and alive, painfully red against the dulled gold, dripping into the basin.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then the treasure exhaled.
Coins lost their luster. Chains sagged. The sickly gleam faded as if wiped away. A sound like a long-held breath being released echoed through the cave.
Something deeper within screamed.
Jack's smile vanished. "That's… new."
The cave shuddered, not collapsing, but rejecting.
Figures emerged from the shadows, men suddenly heavy with gravity, skin flushing with life, eyes wide with pain and fear. One collapsed, clutching his chest. Another stared at his bleeding hands in disbelief.
"They're mortal," Elizabeth whispered.
Edward felt the pressure lift. He hadn't realized how tightly he'd been holding himself until it was gone.
The seagull wriggled free, hopped to the ground, pecked at a now-dull coin, and squeaked indignantly.
"Yes," Edward muttered. "Less impressive."
The cave groaned again, warning this time.
Jack straightened. "Right. Curse broken, debts settled, let's not stay for the aftershock."
They ran.
Shouts followed rage, panic, pain. The cave expelled them into moonlight in a final shudder, stone grinding shut behind them.
They didn't stop rowing until wood scraped wood.
The Pearl loomed above no longer wrong, just dangerous.
Edward hauled himself onto the deck, chest burning. The seagull followed, shaking dust from its feathers like a minor inconvenience.
Elizabeth laughed softly, breathless. "It's over."
Will stared at his bleeding hand. "My father…"
"One miracle at a time," Jack said, resting a rare, gentle hand on his shoulder.
Edward glanced back at the sealed cave. The sea lay still.
Too still.
The seagull shrieked sharply, urgent.
Edward followed its gaze to the horizon.
Breaking a curse never meant escaping consequence.
It only meant the story moved forward.
Steel struck steel.
The Pearl's crew surged mortal now, bleeding, furious.
Edward ducked, caught a blow meant for his shoulder, and pain flared bright and real. He laughed under his breath. "Right. This is new."
The seagull swooped overhead, screaming as though personally insulted by fairness.
Jack danced past him, parrying with lazy precision. "Much better when they stay down," he said cheerfully.
Gunfire cracked. Men fell.
Edward moved on instinct, strike, pivot, hilt to ribs. He fought to stop, not slaughter.
Across the deck, Will moved with ruthless clarity. Elizabeth fired, discarded her pistol, and seized a blade without hesitation.
Their eyes met.
Alive.
The Wayward Star roared as Mira brought her guns to bear. Splinters flew. The Pearl's crew faltered.
Barbossa stood at the far end, mortal, furious.
"You think you've won?" he snarled.
Edward met him head-on. "No. I think you have."
They clashed. Brutal. Close.
The ship lurched.
Edward stepped inside Barbossa's guard and struck decisively.
The sea took Barbossa without comment.
Silence fell.
Swords dropped.
Jack exhaled. "Well. That was unpleasant."
The seagull landed on the rail and squeaked loudly.
Edward leaned on his blade, breathing hard.
Elizabeth pulled him into a fierce embrace. "Don't ever do that again."
"I'll try," he said.
Will wiped his blade clean. "He's free."
Jack clapped Edward's shoulder. "Survived, broke a curse, stole my ship."
"I borrowed chaos."
Jack grinned. "Fair."
The seagull-eyed Jack squeaked.
"I don't trust that bird," Jack said.
"You shouldn't," Edward replied.
As dawn crept across the sea, the Black Pearl drifted no longer cursed. Just free.
And for now, so was Edward.