Winds of Fate [Books IV - VI]

Chapter 159: Liberation (Part One)

"Since then we all have been cursed," Fritzl growls, lifting his bony hands, where the moonlight seeps between the cracks. "Never to feel, to think, to taste and see, but forbidden to rest beneath the waves—"

Eleanore swallows hard, her own blood cold in her veins. The heaviness in their souls weigh down upon the shadows, the ship. 1641. And today is 1720. Almost 80 years...

And their lives, cut short so suddenly; every moment taunting them of what they can never have.

"Only to go back to the land of the living and borrow what freedom we could have, what pleasure, from our own brothers."

She looks away, unable to keep still. "That's why you kill?" Eleanore glances at the hundred red eyes upon her. "It dampens the curse?"

Mumbles answer her, shamefully now, unlike before. And then it dawns on her. Their monstrosity. Their anger... all born out of sorrow and desperation. She meets Fritzl once more. "You said Jones knew about me." Eleanore nods. "Did he say what it was?"

Fritzl sighs and glances at Marques, who encourages him to go on. "Says you are the bohique who was in the prophecy around these lands—"

"Espera, espera." Marques cuts between them apologetically. "Let me clarify, Señor. The Reiger sank off of Cabo des Tormentas, in Africa." She raises a brow, and the Capitán's eyes widen. "What brought you here?"

Everyone unceremoniously points toward her.

Eleanore and Marques stare at each other. She frowns, rubbing her temple. "But... I wasn't even in the Caribbean until recently, when I was twenty-one." She presses a finger on the table. "I lived in one of the Thirteen Colonies since I was seven or eight, I don't remember. And I was born in Spain."

"Your blood." Fritzl looks at her, deadly serious. "This curse... born of it, and calls for its own death in you. Child of the Old World and the New World."

"Your parents?" Marques asks, confused. "The Señora was a Spanish woman, she is the one—"

"Who has an indigene grandmother from here in the Caribbean, the New World, Capitán, sí." Eleanore sighs deeply, and meets Fritzl's inquisitive gaze. "My Papa, he was British, through and through. That is my link to the Old World."

Fritzl nods. "Your goddesses struck this land, do you know that?"

"And the Dutchman receives power from it, no?"

"No, Miss." Fritzl stands up from his seat and shakes his head. "The Sea-Devil is the only one who wins. Blood, is sacred. We benefit from the lives we kill... but that is a mere fraction of its power. With the curse—"

Eleanore bolts up. "The darkness—"

Fritzl sadly nods.

She turns to Marques. "The darkness makes it stronger, makes the curse more powerful, and—"

"And ensures you will not be able to break it, the longer it endures, the mighter it becomes," Fritzl ominously shares, clicking his tongue, "not at a great cost. Miss Smith, this is not a monster. We..." He gestures at the whole crew. "We are the monsters. You can hack us, burn us, stop us. But him?" The first mate shakes his head. "He is a being beyond us all..."

She purses her lips and rubs her arm. I met you, Eleanore trembles. I heard you so many times—

"Possibly, even greater than all of the gods."

True. She holds her breath. But we cannot surrender. "So... Hendrik thinks I could break the curse... I could..." Eleanore bites her lip. "Because the Caribbean's curse is tied to me, I... I could call the gods, but I have no magic, not now. And..." She frowns. "I'm not the cause of your curse."