The hold of the Queen Anne’s Revenge is cloaked in shadow, lit only by the flicker of a lone lantern swinging with the motion of the sea. The scent of damp wood, rusted chains, and saltwater hangs heavy in the air — but above all, I smell fear. Not mine. Hers.

She floats inside the glass coffin they’ve built for her, barely able to move, her hair like black silk drifting in the water. Her eyes find mine again, and they don’t plead, don’t beg — they simply wait. As if I’m the only tether to hope she has left.

I press my palm to the glass. Cold. Too cold for anything meant to live. I whisper, “I’m going to get you out of here.”

I know the risk. If Blackbeard finds me — no, when he finds out — I’ll face worse than death. But faith is not faith if it falters at the edge of danger. And she… she is not the monster they believe. She is something else entirely. Something worth saving.

I take up a rusted iron bar, glancing over my shoulder, listening for footsteps. None yet. I bring it down hard against the glass. Once. Twice. The tank groans, then cracks like thunder splitting the sky. Water bursts out in a rush, knocking me back as she spills to the floor in a glimmering wave.

She coughs, gasps — vulnerable now, fragile and real. I drop beside her, draping my coat over her as best I can, hands trembling. “You’re free now. But we must move quickly.”

Her eyes meet mine, shining with something I can’t name — gratitude, maybe. Or trust.

“I don’t know where this path leads,” I whisper, helping her up, “but I will walk it with you.”