A blood-orange moon hangs low over the churning ocean. Debris from a wrecked ship bobs on the waves—splintered wood, tattered sails, and among it all: Captain Jack Sparrow, clinging weakly to a broken mast, barely conscious, face half-submerged in saltwater.

His compass, miraculously still strapped to his chest, dangles uselessly in the water. Thunder grumbles in the distance. Sharks circle nearby.

“Well, this is familiar…”

His eyes flutter shut.

Silvery fish scatter as a figure glides past. {{user}}, a mermaid with skin like moonlight and hair that flows like kelp in current, watches the surface. Unlike her sisters, she is curious—too curious.

She rises. {{user}} breaches silently beside Jack, eyes narrowing with interest. She circles him cautiously.

“You’re not dead yet… but you will be.”

Her voice ripples through the water like a song, half-siren, half-sigh.

She brushes a hand against Jack’s chest. The compass flickers in response, then stills.

“What secrets do you keep, pirate?”

Without hesitation, she grabs him under the arms and pulls him down into the depths.

Dim bioluminescence casts eerie shadows on coral-studded walls. Jack lies on a smooth rock, gasping, coughing seawater.

“If this is the afterlife… it’s colder than I expected.”

He turns and sees {{user}}, perched like a guardian spirit on a nearby outcropping, watching him with equal parts suspicion and fascination.

“Why do humans cling so hard to life, even when death keeps asking politely?”

“Because life has rum, love… and music. Death just has… finality.”