Legends of the Treasure Child

Jack spent the next three days with his heart caught in his throat. He disgruntledly accepted Elisabeth’s advice, and she showed him how to clean and make shifts for him to wear between his legs. The bleeding diminished little by little and that gave some comfort, for it seemed like the birthcanal had opened right up into his very soul, draining him of his self-esteem as well. Mr. Gibbs kept a watchful eye, like he knew what was going on, and for the first time in his long life as a pirate, Jack actually felt dirty. Good heavens how he craved a proper bath! Elisabeth seemed to second-guess him a lot, understanding how he felt without hearing him speak, and she taught him about hygiene and cleaning oneself. Jack was amazed time and time again, not expecting her to know so much about such things, as he’d learnt to view her as a sword-wielding amazon and not a homemaker. She worked him in a professional manner taking charge, picking him up when he felt like wallowing in his misery and talk to him over and over about the Sparrow Salvage Company and its future. It didn’t take long for Jack to realize why Will loved her. For she was a headstrong, resourceful mountain, if such words could be permitted to be put together, in the vast ocean of no hope. Whatever she set out to do, she achieved it. And her determination was something Jack always had admired her for, amazon or no amazon. So Jack gritted his teeth and sat down together with her every single evening, learning how to read and write, while he waited for some kind of sign beyond the horizon.

The sign came in the early morning on the fourth day. So early, the sun wouldn’t rise on another three hours, and Jack Sparrow was abruptly awoken by a heavy thud on the roof of the Captain’s cabin. The thud rocked the entire ship, sending tremors throughout the hulls, and it was instantly followed by an unearthly, ear-shattering dual-vocal demonic scream. Then scraping the floorboards making up the roof creaked heavily, then sprung up as whatever heavy object had landed on them, took off.
Only then did Elisabeth managed to get her limbs to cooperate, making her way out of bed and over to Jack who sat upright in his bed, clenching the sheets between whitened knuckles, his eyes still staring at the roof. His breath hitched in his throat, before he seemed to gather himself to look at her.

“Do you smell something burning?” she asked quietly, sniffing in the air. They both scrambled to the door, making their way so they could get to see up at the roof. The sea and the very air around them were dead calm, and smoke rose from the roof. They made their way up, finding the footprints of claws embedded into the wooden planks.

“Christ Almighty…!” Elisabeth muttered, looking from the footprints to Jack. “Is that…?”

“Yes” Jack said, dejectedly, just as he heard a whimpering noise. They turned and looked down to the helm. It was Mr. Gibbs, he kept staring open-eyed at the smoky spot, whimpering, talking nonsense, clambering to the wheel of The Black Pearl.

“What happened here, Mr. Gibbs?” Jack wanted to know, but his question only seemed to upset Gibbs further, and soon the first mate stretched out his right arm, pointing with a quivering finger at something in the air behind Jack, stuttering:”There it comes again!”

Jack didn’t bother to look behind him to see what he expected would be the Thyrion. Instead he remembered his promise to Will, and took hold of Elisabeth, dragged her down the stairs and hurled her towards the cabin. She got inside, turned and screamed as she saw the three meter tall, skull-pale demon turn about in the air, diving straight for Jack.

Jack felt the dry, alien touch of his clawed hands before it actually happened. And then Elisabeth’s terror as he felt himself embraced by the claws and dragged backwards by his shirt. Then his feet lost touch with the ground, and his stomach turned as the demon looped sideways in the air to avoid the main mast of the Pearl.
Jack wriggled to get free, tossed and turned in frenzy, not caring how high in the air they flew. To have his body pressed tightly against that of the demon’s, to feel the enormous erection brushing against his stomach made him panic, made him remember the cruelties and the pain, the birth and the anger. He would not have this again. But the demon held him tight, locked in a grip with claws digging into Jack’s ribs every time he tried to move. The air high above in the skies soon became freezing, and Jack stopped fighting, instead shielding himself with his arms in front of his chest against the cold. He couldn’t see a thing because of the clouds, and he held only one thought in his head: John, rescue me!

After what seemed like an eternity spent in freezing air, the Thyrion finally descended. Jack registered snow falling. A warmer, yet chill temperature. Weak, frozen, stiff-limbed and despaired, Jack felt himself being put down on soft, warm furs. A fire crackled somewhere behind him, and in his half-sleep he thought he heard voices. Pleading, desperate voices, then bones cracking, then silence. Jack fell into a disturbed slumber, feeling hungry.
The next time he woke, he opened his eyes to stare out from a window and onto the snow falling. He looked around, finding himself to be in what appeared to be the inside of a stone castle, and he was sitting on a wooden floor, where the better half of the roof gave shelter from the snow. On the other side of the tower room, where wooden boards were missing here and there, with a giant hole in the roof, allowing the snow inside, the Thyrion squatted, eating the meat of someone’s hand.
Blood was dripping from the demon’s jaw as he ate, ripping away one bone, picking it clean of raw flesh. He then tossed it aside. The demon turned slowly, gazing at Jack while it continued to feed. Looking into its black, iris-less eyes was like staring down into the unholy abyss, its black hair flowing in unseen wind around its head like a halo, a twisted and mocking image of the apostles, an anti-saint. Jack dragged himself backward towards the simple, brick-laden window, hoping it would prove big enough for him to jump out of.

The Thyrion continued his meal, biding his time, his cock growing impossibly hard by the smell of fear which was reeking from his plaything. The scent of passage’s blood tickled his nostrils, anticipation reaching new heights. The human, his property, was ready for the taking. He paused from his meal, rose his head and gazed at the human man, the scavenging pirate he’d taken as his own.

*The witchlord grows strong. Ye have done well, human. Thy cometh to my realm in search of Eternal Life. And Eternal Life Thou shalt have, while Thou carry forth my Witchlords and Warlords to my armies of dark souls which shalt crush the Nether Regions of Hell, uniting the remains into the One Kingdom! My Kingdom! And then Thou shall be given to my soldiers, and Thou shall breed forth a new race! A race of Demon Angels able to withstand the Light, the very Arch Angels!. And they shalt all fall and Hell on Earth shalt be released! And to rule Hell on Earth shalt be our Firstborn, Thy Treasure Child!*

The Thyrion stood for a moment, his sickening dual-voiced laugh ringing through the room. Jack, who’d stopped momentarily to listen to the Thyrion’s words of doom, turned and sped up towards the window, crawling on his hands and knees. This was bad, bad in deed. He made it to the window, peered outside and realized there was nothing but the distant ground for kilometres downwards. He could make out the ground of the valley far down there, as the ancient castle seemed to have been built up in the mountain side. He registered a settlement down there, eyeing a small hope. If he could somehow make it down …! But he’d surely kill himself if he tossed himself out of the window. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea? It would seem the great Captain Jack Sparrow was becoming a helping hand in Evil’s eternal struggle against Heaven. Before he could contemplate any further, the Thyrion came up behind him, grabbed his hair and forced his head backwards, forcing Jack to arch his back in order not to lose his balance. The Thyrion’s breath was hot on his neck, and the demon stuck out his long, dark red tongue and slid across Jack’s left shoulder, from behind his earlobe and out, baring his shoulder with his teeth. Had it been anyone else, then the action could have been perceived as a sexual caress, but Jack shuddered in repulsion. He tried to breathe steadily, to wring free, but couldn’t. The stench of recently devoured human meat reeked from the demon’s breath, and it was sickening. Jack was pinned between nothingness, having only the lower window frame to hold on to, and the force of the Thyrion’s weight behind him. If Jack didn’t push against him, steadying his balance by holding his hands to either side of the window frame, he would fall. He knew it. The demon knew it. And he was going to exploit it to the fullest.
And as his clothes were ripped from his shivering body, and his backside caressed by the demon’s eager erection, Jack Sparrow began to sob, knowing what lay ahead.

*The Sparrow trapped in a Cage. How Thy must earn to fly!*