Well, well, well. Would you look at that. My book is back to the mature rating it should've been set to in the first goddamn place.
Wattpad, on my soul y'all make it mad fucking hard to continue to support y'all. And let's be clear, you put ads on my shit so yes that's me supporting you with the work that I don't even get paid to run ads on you cheap whores.
That's all I got for today with dragging y'all for utter filth, but seriously, do better or I'll look for better
Anyways, enjoy lovelies!
xoxo

Caspian

My mind was so engrossed in the image of the pendant Finnik had pulled out and placed on his desk, I wasn't paying Alistair any mind until I heard it. Well, rather I felt it before I actually heard it. When my eyes darted from this dark mahogany desk over to where Alistair stood in the back of the study, I caught just the final glimpse of what he had done.

In his hand was only the handle of what was a dagger, and it was quickly disintegrating the rest of the way before his and my own very eyes. I watched as the ash fell, taking with it the acoustic of echoed voices that sounded like blood curdling cries pounding against the drums of my ears.

I felt this chilling feeling soon wash over me, causing my blood to run cold regardless of the heat this heavy cloak had provided... and yet Alistair bore no reaction whatsoever.

There wasn't much I was sure of, however I was confident that this wasn't what Finnik had meant when he offered Alistair a pick of his weapon of choice to aide in our additional quest.

And well, all I could do was pray that this wouldn't hinder Finnik's decision to help get us out of this city. Alistair had a real gift for finding exactly what it took to push someone past the realms of reasonable patience... and then he doubled it.

This bloody pirate said nothing, instead gently tossing his hands together to get rid of the residue still on them, before he turned and walked back to the chair Finnik had once sat in. One that relatively looked more comfortable than the chairs we had chosen upon entering the room. He wasted no time rummaging through the man's drawers, while I myself went back to the seat I originally claimed.

The painting of the pendant was still on the desk, beckoning my gaze there once more whether or not I willed it.

I wasn't sure why it looked familiar. I wasn't sure how it could either. From what I could see in this shop and study, along with how Finnik spoke of the item, it didn't sound like it was common knowledge. This cloth that it was painted in black ink on showing the hexagon shaped encasement with what looked to be a jewel inside, somehow reminded me of something I did my best to avoid thinking of entirely.

Home.

It was something nothing like this could've possibly triggered, and yet it did.

What troubled me even further was the man who owned it, The Chameleon, I'd heard of him before believe it or not. This was possibly five or so journeys around the sun ago, while myself and Lemont were doing contracted work located on the very outskirts of Azul.

We had been tasked with building crates for the merchant ships that both myself and Lemont eventually were hired onto. Had I known this work would soon land me in a dangerous city with an even more dangerous pirate hellbent on angering every man he made contact with, I would've kept to crate making. Now I was reaping the consequences of having the audacity to venture out for higher wages.

There was a ship that ported close to the shores we were working on, but once its Captain stepped foot on the white, scorching sand, I felt a hand latch itself onto my forearm, pulling me back into the forested area that surrounded the west bank.

When my eyes found Lemont, I saw fear in his. Something I had grown accustomed to seeing for most of my days walking this earth, considering our circumstances, however the way his face paled drew my attention.

"What is it?" I asked the shorter man.

"His face." Lemont responded, his aged wrinkles only creasing further in that space between his eyebrows. "It isn't right." That response made my own eyebrows furrow in confusion, but Lemont continued with his explanation. "I believe he's known as The Chameleon. It's best we keep our distance until he leaves the shoreline."

This captain had since pulled the hood of his cloak up, blocking my vision, but I still recalled the face he wore then on that beach. His features young, with skin only fairly touched by the sun. We were still quite the distance away, even on the sandy shores, so the distance Lemont created for us by pulling me further towards the forest made it impossible for me to see.

I didn't understand what Lemont had meant by that then, but the way Finnik had described him mere moments ago, I think I understood Lemont's weariness. I heard that same tone in Finnik's voice when he spoke of the magic that man possessed.

Alistair had a slight smile playing on his lips as he rummaged through papers he had pulled from Finnik's desk. The agreement to hunt down Jirah seemed to irritate him when he was speaking with Finnik, yet now he looked to be in a rather jolly mood. Which only left me more weary myself. It was a constant battle between whether I thought this man was intelligent... or only held together like a door off its hinges.

The lack of stability was truly an enigma.

Then there was the other thing I still didn't fully understand- what was Cael and Snips meeting an appraiser for? Given I still knew very little about the workings of Alistair's ship, I found it diffucult not to try to further understand why Alistair would split his men like this in a city that clearly had no reason to welcome both him and his crew.

I dind't even question why that was at this point. Alistair very well could've murdered their ruler for all I know and it wouldn't surprise me in the slightest, especially at the stage we were at in our journey.

I wasn't sure what compelled me to ask the Captain anything, but considering we now had nothing on our hands except time while Finnik was out delivering on his side of the agreement, I decided I didn't have much else to better occupy me. So I found myself asking "what was that dagger? And what did you do to it?"

Alistair looked up from the papers he was very freely rummaging through, to meet my gaze. My hands reached for the hood of the cloak, before they pushed the material back away from the roots of my hair and onto my shoulders. We were alone now with no reason to hide my lighter features.

"I could've sworn you were present for this conversation with Finnik. I know he paid you no mind, but that doesn't excuse you from your lack of listening skills."

I almost outwardly sighed. Now I wished I had kept my mouth shut.

"You spoke of these items being tethered to you. Are they cursed?" I asked a bit boldly.

Alistair didn't look nearly as annoyed as how he sounded which confused me, especially regarding the bite in his tone. He managed to reply with slightly less challenging words when he nodded, and said "yes. And as I mentioned to Finnik, I own the right to collect on their debt."

It was safe to say I was far more confused now than I was mere moments ago.

"So you cursed these objects?"

Alistair briefly shook his head. "The one before me did."

I forced my face to remain stoic because if if this flippant pirate got a glimmer of the confusion I felt, his irritation would indisputably grow.

"And who was that?" I continued. I couldn't tell what Alistair had meant by that. Was he speaking of his father?

"I do not know." he replied with, which did absolutely positively fuck all nothing for my confusion. And now I was doing less and less well at hiding my lack of understanding. "All that I know of, is what has been passed on to me. I don't know who it was that did so, and after he had, he never presented himself to me again."

I stared at Alistair, watching as his left hand reached up to readjust his eye patch, before he went back to tussling sheets of papers around.

"Then this man..." I started, working to fit together these peices. "He's the one who cursed these objects?"

Alistair had since turned his gaze back to whatever documents that seemed to really grip his attention, however he didn't abandon nor shy away from my line of questioning when he answered with an "aye."

"Why?" I countered a bit too suddenly, which momentarily pulled Alistair's gaze back from the slightly tattered pages to me.

"Why not?" he countered, to which my eyebrows furrowed even further. Had I known the mental acrobats I would be doing by starting this conversation, I would've left Alistair to rummage through all of Finnik's belongings in peace.

Yet there was a part of me that was desperate to understand more. To understand Alistair more. And that was the part of myself that was now working harder than it very well may ever have, to follow this insane man's explanation. He was generous enough to elaborate on his poor response.

"Any weapon can be cursed. Of course, one must possess the ability to do so, but it is possible." I was surprised when Alistair dwindled his attention towards the items in Finnik's drawers, so he could direct it towards me. "What many do not know, or fail to realize, is that the origins of the weapon itself is critical to be known beforehand. Not every curse is inherently evil, however if the weapon in question you are venturing to curse was constructed for evil, the soul it develops once the curse is placed may very well reflect that."

I felt myself leaning further forward in this uncomfortable chair with each word. I had known of cursed objects before, however Lemont hadn't explained it in great detail. Not like this.

"So a cursed object can serve for good?" I questioned, to which Alistair nodded.

"Many have. And many subsequently haven't. I do not know much about where my own piece of the puzzle fits with these curses and their cries to me, however, I can feel the pain and anguish each one has caused. A dark soul with a curse has the ability to pull on the fated path of the living, coercing their hand to do the weapons bidding. Their power then grows in the bloodshed committed at their doing."

My eyebrows raised slowly in pure bewilderment. My knowledge of what a cursed weapon once was, was proving to be close to useless when faced with reality.

"So what you did just now... with the blade breaking away into almost nothing-"

"I absorbed the power that's been pooling in the weapon during its tyranny." Alistair responded, cutting me short once he anticipated my next question. "And this is why souls tethered will cry for mercy in my presence. They can sense and recognize the magic I hold. They feel the ability I have to end any ties they have to this world or the next, with no second thought. And their fear is rightfully placed."

This information only further solidified my thoughts on how wrong some of my teachings may have been. Or rather, how limited my life in Azultia very well was.

Those screams I heard... now understanding what they were, I understood why Alistair had done what he did.

My only question left was why? Alistair had never hesitated to cut a man down, and yet he spoke of this actual good service he had done to this world and its people.

Leave it to Alistair to clear any fogginess in my thoughts with his own words. "That absorption acts as a power surge to my abilities. It allows me longer stamina in the heat of a battle, among many other enhancements. Finnik requested I choose something to aide in our detour, and I very well did. My methods of how I went about it may not have been the most appropriate, but Finnik didn't place any stipulations."

The edges of my lips curled up into a slight grin before I could stop them, because if this monster of a man was nothing else, he was consistently thinking further ahead. And it was difficult to hate a man who was unapologetically this unpredictable. He reminded me of someone I once knew.

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