The Witching Hour

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from "Pirates of the Caribbean." Disney owns that, I'm afraid. However, they do NOT own my Otluta. Thank you!

Note: I am trying to write a serious story....if not with some smut in it later on. ;) I hope you will take the time to read and review it. I have become inspired and I must write! I like feedback. Thank you. I also am not going to have Jack talk in "pirate lengo." As "Boshomengro" said, if you notice, Jack does not typically talk in a pirate accent, but rather, he has a thick London accent. Speaking of Boshomengro, I want to thank this person for being such an inspiration to me. I love the way the work is written and I love "The Map." Thank you once again, for giving me the courage to write.


Chapter 1
Separation


Otluta led her clan of witches throughout the sky on their brooms made of yew, still shaken with grief by her mother's death. Witch clans were typically matriarchal, so she was immediately appointed queen. Otluta was only 120 years old--very young for a witch. She was younger than most of her clan sisters. However, she still had her mother's guiding spirit. Though Otluta was very old in human years, she looked as though she were only 19 years of age. All the witches of her clan were known for their beauty--both male and female. She finally reached the shore of the nearby port and a sliver of moonlight illuminated her exotic features. Any man on the shore would have been dumbfounded if they had seen even what that fraction of moonlight had revealed. In normal light, he would have been completely under her spell. She had glowing olive skin, a face with sharp features and high cheek bones, with bright blue eyes that glittered in the moonlight. Her tall, slim figure was cloaked in a dress of black lace which matched her ebony hair, which flowed freely and wildly behind her like a banner as she flew throughout the sky.

Suddenly, she stopped in midair, and her followers did as well, though they looked slightly confused. "My people!" she called out, her usually tremulous voice always sounding as though she were about to sing, "I believe we shall stop and rest here for the night. Remember, if anyone sees you, you are to hide your yews and--" but she was cut off. At that very moment, an enormous gust of wind blew out of the west and blew Otluta away from her clan and all the witches off course as well. Otluta tried to think of a spell that would calm the skies, but it was in vain. The storm had some so suddenly! It began to rain torrents and thunder began to sound. She could hear her people's cries faintly amidst the booms of thunder. Otluta tried to cry out to them, and once again, tried ignore the storm and think of a spell that would quell it. As if the storm knew what she was up to, a fork of lightning flashed through the sky and caught Otluta's yew aflame. As the flames quickly consumed her broom, Otluta fell, crying out for her people...but for all she knew, they were lost. And so was she.

Otluta seemed to fall in slow motion, her graceful gown waving in the wind like a shroud around her. Finally, she hit the sand and there was a loud crack as her left arm broke. Otluta was winded and couldn't even cry out in pain. Her head throbbed as she looked up and still saw the sheets of warm rain pouring on the beach. She normally would have loved this rain, for she was used to cold weather and it would have been a welcome change. But, as she lay on he beach, bleeding and in despair over her clan, she thought she could see a ship with black sails out in the distance through the mist that was gathering. She could tell that it was trying to moor by a nearby cove on the island she had landed on, but the storm was not helping. Otluta could keep her eyes open no more. She closed them and breathed deeply, hoping the pain would leave her. Finally, she blacked out.