Chapter 9: The Fox and the Compass
The salty wind tugged at their clothes as Jack Sparrow, Elias Deake, and Raina strolled away from the market, their boots hitting the wooden planks of the dock leading back to the Phantom. The sun was beginning to dip behind the hills, painting the sea gold and red—like fire dancing on water.
Jack twirled the strange, wordless book in his hand, humming a tune that didn't quite have a rhythm.
Elias was grinning to himself, walking with the lazy swagger of someone who had just stolen something valuable.
Raina, ever watchful, had her arms crossed. "I still don't trust this place."
"Good," Jack muttered. "That means you'll survive it."
But then—
She appeared.
Standing at the edge of the dock like a phantom herself, her tattooed face half-hidden by the fading light.
The same old woman from the tent.
Jack stopped mid-step. "Love?"
The old woman didn't answer him.
Her strange, faded eyes locked onto Elias.
"You fox," she hissed. "Give it back."
Elias raised a brow. "You'll have to be more specific, darling."
Jack turned toward Elias, his eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity.
Raina looked genuinely shocked—because she hadn't seen Elias take anything.
But there it was.
In Elias's hand.
The black compass.
Jack's compass.
Jack let out a low chuckle, more impressed . "Well, well…"
Elias lifted the compass in one hand, letting it spin lazily in the air. In his other hand, a small black sword glinted—clearly stolen from some vendor's table back at the market.
He grinned, shameless.
"You see, love," Elias said, voice smooth and confident, "I'm a pirate. You don't take things from me. I take things from you."
The old woman's eyes narrowed.
Elias stepped forward slightly, his shadow long against the dock.
"And more important," he continued, "this compass... it got me into this life. The moment I stole it—from him—" He tilted his head at Jack, who now looked both amused and quietly proud. "That's when everything changed."
Jack smirked, flipping his book shut and leaning against a post with that casual, catlike charm. "Could've just asked for it, mate."
Elias ignored him and stared the old woman down.
"I'm not giving it back," he said, voice harder now. "It's mine."
The wind picked up.
The sea behind them hissed like it heard the tension.
"I'd rather fight every son of a bitch on this cursed market," Elias growled, "than hand this back to your old fingers."
He smiled, sharp as a blade.
"So kindly—" he added, "you can fuck off."
There was silence.
The kind of silence that makes even the birds stop flying.
Then the old woman laughed.
Not sweetly.
Not kindly.
But dark—deep.
"You've made your choice, boy," she said. "Let's see how far it carries you."
And just like that—she turned into smoke.
Gone.
No sound. No warning. Just air where she once stood.
Raina exhaled slowly. "That... didn't feel like any normal trick."
Jack nodded, pushing off the post. "Magic's never normal, love. And she's no street conjurer."
Elias pocketed the compass, now quiet again.
No spinning.
Just still.
"Still not giving it back," he muttered.
Jack clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Wouldn't expect you to. But next time, maybe warn me before you rob someone who might be a witch."
Elias winked. "Where's the fun in that?"
They continued walking, stepping onto the gangplank of the Phantom.
Raina looked between them and shook her head. "You two are going to get us all killed."
Jack grinned. "That's the idea."
And with that, the ship groaned to life, the sails catching wind, the anchor lifting.
The compass in Elias's coat ticked once—just once.
Like a heartbeat waking up.
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