Pirates: The One Where Lord Cutler Beckett Wins (& There's Romance)

Chapter 28

The sun shone brightly upon the pier as Catherine met with the Spanish merchant who delivered the rare herbs she requested – a special vine and some chacruna leaves from the deep jungles of the Spanish controlled southern hemisphere.

"Mil gracias," she said, taking the herbs and delivering him twice the payment he asked for.

That entire day, she stayed in the kitchen, simmering the herbs, singing ancestral songs to them, and infusing the entire potion with pure love and positive intent. Mrs. Ashgrove, seeing her labor over the fire, offered to take the duty off her hands.

"No, it's quite all right, Mrs. Ashgrove," Catherine said. "This is a process I must take on my own. But thank you for your offer."

As night fell, Lord Beckett escorted her to the Acquisition, waiting at dock for their planned departure. The full moon illuminated the night—a perfect canvas for the spell's commencement.

Onboard, Lord Beckett had prepared everything to her liking: a fire pit outside and their private room adorned with candles, cushions, and a serene ambiance. To his surprise, Catherine donned an ensemble he had never seen—an ethereal white satin dress adorned with minimalist gold trim that accentuated her slender waist, giving her the appearance of a goddess. Her hair flowed freely, crowned with flowers. Barefoot, she exuded an air of intimacy and connection with her surroundings.

Taking his hand, she guided him to the pillows amidst the flickering candlelight, kneeling and drawing him down beside her.

"Dearest Cutler," Catherine began, her voice carrying a weight of solemnity and compassion. "What lies ahead of us is a tumultuous journey, one that may unveil the most profound moments of your life. It will be an uncharted exploration of chaos—whether it manifests as your deepest fears, your most hidden desires, or the parts of yourself concealed in the shadows, hidden from even your own awareness. It could bring forth unparalleled joy or deep revelations, perhaps both. The intricacies of this experience will remain a mystery until you confront it. But it's imperative that you embrace this chaos, welcoming its tumultuous embrace before the spell can take effect. Only then will the rains fall for 40 days and 40 nights over Shipwreck Cove. Are you prepared to embrace this uncertainty?"

"My dear Catherine," Lord Beckett began, his tone measured and resolute. "I am prepared to traverse the depths of this chaos, face the unknown, and accept whatever revelations it may bring. If it ensures the success of our objective, I'm committed to embracing this uncertainty fully."

"I'm so happy darling, to be able to go through this new adventure with you," she said, grasping his hands in hers. "But I'm also terrified. This tea we're about to consume is no ordinary tea—it's brewed from the Vine of the Dead. Its very essence carries the weight of its name, promising an experience beyond the ordinary. It summons the spirit of the Grandmother, invoking the energies of Calypso herself to begin the storms. The spell book doesn't precisely detail the awakening of Calypso, but I trust in the Grandmother's mystical prowess to weave the necessary magic."

Holding his hands, Catherine said a prayer and they set their intentions in silence. She poured the tea and delivered it to Lord Beckett, who drank it in its entirety as she instructed. Then, she poured and drank her own tea in the same way.

Before the tea could take effect, Catherine led her husband to the deck of the Acquisition, where the fire pit was lit. Underneath the moonlight, it had a surreal glow.

"This is Grandfather Fire," Catherine explained. "Should fear arise during your experience, release it here. Just state your name and fear, and the fire will accept it, bringing relief."

In silent acknowledgement, Lord Beckett indicated his readiness.

Catherine then produced Blackbeard's spell journal, recited the appropriate incantation, commencing the spell. Following this, she decisively announced, "I've made a choice, my love. This spell book is too perilous. Even I, with my own capacity, cannot safely wield it. No one should possess black magic. Therefore, I've decided it must be destroyed."

Though his mind raced with the strategic possibilities of the book, a sense of humility enveloped Lord Beckett. "I concur, Catherine," he agreed. Together, they consigned the book to the flames, watching it disintegrate—a sacrifice for the greater good.

Guiding Lord Beckett to their private chamber, Catherine spoke solemnly, "This is a journey we must embark upon individually, yet together."

Soon, Lord Beckett's visions began. It began subtly with a jungle snake advancing gently toward him amidst flickering green lights. But swiftly, the snake grew monstrous and devoured him, leaving him helpless. Beckett felt the horror of death, only to be reborn in his father's arms. This time, he perceived his father's torment, his inner turmoil reflected in the cruelty he inflicted.

"It wasn't my fault," Lord Beckett realized, feeling compassion for his father for the first time.

He felt himself descend into the depths of hell – an abyss devoid of love, immersed in darkness and decay. Lord Beckett struggled in a place he could not conquer with strategies or negotiations, not knowing how to end this nightmare. Overwhelmed, he struggled in desperation, feeling utterly lost.

Sensing Lord Beckett's discomfort, Catherine knelt beside him, wielding a chacapa fan crafted from specially procured leaves. Whistling an ancient tune, she skillfully dispersed the stagnant energy, fanning him with care. She remained a vigilant observer, ensuring he found the strength within himself to navigate his own journey.

Not long after, a luminous figure appeared within Lord Beckett's vision – Catherine, adorned in the white dress she wore earlier, now with wings, a spectral presence. Gripping his hand in the vision, she filled him with unyielding love, the most joy he'd ever known.

"Catherine," he uttered softly, caught in the overwhelming moment. "You mean everything to me."

Despite being in her own trance, Catherine felt the echoes of his words fall into her heart like a key that suddenly unlocked the deepest recesses of her being. Almost instantly, her own visions started, and the snake reappeared, this time passing by, leaving her amid endless stars, alone, facing mortality and existential questions. Terror gripped her as she witnessed her death, her essence fading into a cosmic void.

Sounds took on colors, and she encountered the master designer orchestrating the history of life. Every event, good or evil, was part of a grand design. Every evil served a purpose, birthing good. Everything was connected, orderly, purposeful. And as this master force showed her all of this, he wrapped up the entire history of the universe into a glowing ball, and placed it in her heart. Along with it came the understanding that every single person on the planet also had the grand history of life placed within their heart, as a reminder of where they came from. With this last memory, she drifted out of consciousness.

Meanwhile, Lord Beckett grappled with flying mathematical symbols and charts, a flood of information he couldn't comprehend. He struggled to bring order to the chaos but failed, the onslaught too rapid for reason.

Suddenly he began to feel the effects of all his actions in life – the lives he impacted, the pain he caused, and the joy he brought to Catherine. His heart opened to her love and vulnerability, vowing to protect her.

However, death confronted him again. He felt the demise of every pirate he had ever hanged, understanding their struggles and lack of wisdom that led to piracy. This endless horror finally ceased at daybreak, leaving him retching, purging the haunting experiences of the night.