Chapter 11: The Compass Never Lies
The sea had calmed after the storm. For two days, the ship glided across glassy waves, silent but for the occasional groan of the wood and the cry of distant gulls. The sun hung low now, painting the horizon gold and red.
Elias stood near the bow, the black compass open in his palm.
It spun wildly for a moment, as always—erratic, unpredictable, untrustworthy… until it stopped.
And pointed.
Jake came up beside him, hands lazily tucked in his belt, squinting at the horizon.
"Well?" he asked, eyebrow raised. "Isla de la Muerte?"
Elias frowned, staring past the compass. "Not even close."
They stood in silence for another minute before the outline of land formed in the distance.
Jake blinked twice.
"…Kid?"
Elias swallowed.
Because he recognized it.
The steep cliffs. The crooked tower. The worn-out docks.
Port Royal.
His city. His grave. His hell.
He had clawed through every filthy alley, begged for bread, dodged guards, and learned how to steal before he could read. The city never cared. Never remembered his face. Not until he stole something valuable enough for someone to chase him.
His jaw tightened.
"Why the hell are we here?" Elias muttered, slamming the compass shut.
Jake tilted his head. "Not a fan of nostalgia, are we?"
Elias scowled. "I came from nothing here. No name, no coin, no future. I only became something after I stole from you, remember?"
Jake nodded slowly. "Aye. And now the compass leads you back. Funny, that."
"Yeah, hilarious," Elias snapped. "You think the compass is broken?"
Jake shook his head. "No, no, no. It doesn't point north, but it's never broken. It points to what your heart wants most, whether you like it or not."
Elias looked down at the compass again. "Well, my heart's a dumb bastard."
"Could be," Jake said cheerfully. "But it's your dumb bastard heart, and it led us here. So... either it knows something you don't, or the sea's in the mood for a cruel joke."
Elias sighed, rubbing his temple. "Maybe I should give the compass to you. Think about Isla de la Muerte."
Jake smirked. "Tempting. But no need for that, kid. If your heart brought us here... then maybe there's something you need to see."
He clapped a hand on Elias's shoulder.
"As long as your heart—"
BOOM.
The ship rocked violently, throwing both of them to the side.
BOOM.
Another blast. Wood splintered.
Jake hit the deck and rolled up, already moving. "Cannon fire?!"
Raina shouted from the helm. "We're under attack!"
Elias scrambled to his feet, staring at the source of the cannon blasts.
Out in the open sea, cutting through the fog like a phantom—
The Black Pearl.
Its sails were blacker than midnight. Its hull, scorched and clawed by storms and fire, surged through the waves with terrifying speed. A flag bearing the infamous skull flapped violently in the wind.
Elias's eyes widened. "No..."
Jake didn't smile this time.
He stared, serious and sharp. "Now that—that is a proper ship."
The Pearl loomed closer, guns aimed, ropes ready.
Elias looked to Jake, breathless. "Who's on that ship?"
Jake didn't answer immediately. He just stared. Then, finally, he muttered:
"Barbossa."
A name that tasted like blood and old betrayal.
Another cannonball roared past, barely missing their mast.
Jake sprang into action. "Raina! Turn her starboard! Hard and fast!"
Raina was already yanking the wheel, gritting her teeth. "She's too fast! We'll never outrun her!"
"Then we don't run!" Elias shouted, unsheathing his black sword. "We fight!"
Jake turned and looked at him.
And smiled.
"There's the pirate I remember."
Another blast rocked the deck, and men scrambled. Panic set in—but not for Jake and Elias.
Because in this moment, facing death and fire and smoke, Elias felt something strange.
Alive.
His blood pumped like thunder. His body moved like instinct. The chaos was music. The danger was freedom.
Jake drew his sword, spinning it casually in one hand. "If we die here, let's at least make it interesting."
Elias grinned, feral and wild. "Damn right, Captain."
The Pearl was close now. Too close.
Figures gathered on her deck, armed and armored. Faces shadowed by fog and legend.
And at the front of it all—one man stood tall.
A feathered hat.
A gnarly beard.
Eyes like fire.
Barbossa.
He raised a hand.
And the Black Pearl prepared to board.
Jake tilted his head. "Well. Things just got interesting."
Elias spat on the deck. "Let them come."
---
You can contact me through my official page on the following Accounts:
telegram:
miraclenarrator
tiktok:
miracle_narrator
instagram:
miracle_narrator