Legends of the Treasure Child : Demon Spawn

Nobody survives a maelstrom.

Not even the undead.


She awoke from an uneasy sleep. Sitting erect in her bed, she stared out into the pitch black of the bedroom, alert, her breath fast and beads of sweat on her forehead. She got out of bed, felt the familiar cold floorboards beneath her soles, and bent down to find her slippers. She had trouble putting them on, though it was the same routine she'd had for almost ten years. She moved quietly, opening the door to the hallway, and moved across to her son's bedroom. She opened the door just enough to let her head in. Hearing the familiar, steady breathing of an almost ten year old boy, she let her shoulders down a little, closed the door and went back to her bedroom.

She lit the candle next to her bed, before she stood entirely still, focusing on the faint, almost ghostly heartbeat which had been her secret for almost a decade. It was the very reason for her waiting, her sorrow, for her every conduct all these years. She lay down and dragged herself beneath the bed to one particular floorboard. There, she loosened it, unraveling a chest. All though she could not see in the blackness beneath her bed, her hands found the familiar curves and ornaments of the chest which was the source of both her anguish and her hopes. She dragged it from its secret hideout, and got herself and the chest out into the candlelight. Sitting on the bed with the chest which once belonged to Davey Jones, Elisabeth held her breath as she opened it.

The heart was still.

There was no beat. No life.

The smell of decay was like a punch in the face, yet she could not force herself to shut the lid. Her frail frame began to shake, tears wet her face, obscuring the view of the still heart, and soon she could not hold back heavy sobs upon realizing what it all meant. Will was lost to her. There was no longer any chance of happiness.


Will dug his fingers deeper into the slimy substance, but there was nothing firm to hang on to. No matter how he squirmed and tried, he kept sliding down the immense gap. He wasn't exactly sure what it was or where he was, but the dark grey fog above had narrowed and then closed itself up, leaving everything in pitch black. He continued to call out to Calypso. But it began to dawn on him that she would or could not help. This had to be the end. Really The End. And that was highly disturbing.

It grew hotter beneath his feet, and the slime seemed to change surface, clotting together, forming lumps and uneven shapes. Still, it all remained slimy, foul-smelling and very disgusting. After some moments, the substance changed radically, until Will realized he was raking his fingers through bones in various sizes and shapes. He withdrew his hands in a shudder, deciding he'd rather fall freely than to be in contact with such items again. Turning his head downwards, he realized there was a red light growing far in the distance beneath him. As the light grew in strength, he was able to make out rocks and bones, skulls and winged creatures flying about. He decided he would try to halt his decent, and lunged out, aiming for a jutting piece of rock. Grasping it, he was able to haul his body along afterwards to a small plateau where he could stand. Soon, the winged creatures took flight closer, apparently having spotted him. His dark silhouette against the red rock must have appeared as a tell tale sign. To his horror, Will realized the creatures were armed with hideous fangs, large blades and hooks. They had the faces of dried up mummies, their mouths eternally frozen in a malicious grin showing off their yellow, rotting fangs. To their buttocks there was attached a whipping tail, which made a snapping noise whenever they moved it quickly through the air from side to side. They were obviously up to no good, it didn't take a genius to figure that one out.

It dawned on Will that there was no way of escaping unless he let himself fall again, and even then, they'd get to him simply because they moved faster and had fairly wide range weaponry. They'd cut him open even in mid-air. Beneath him lay a panorama of cities, one floating at a distance from the other. The lower levels were shrouded by fog and light. Will could not see that far, but reckoned there was several, perhaps endless levels below. There was, however, no time to admire the breathtaking view. That was when Will realized he had no feet. The shreds of his knees dangled loosely like wet clothes hung to dry, yet he still felt like he was standing on his feet. Thus, the attackers caught him by surprise, impaling his torso with a crooked and dirty spear. The spear shot out through his spine, fracturing several bones, before it pierced the stone wall behind him. It rendered Will immobilized, but he was amazed at how dull the pain seemed. Jerking his head violently to the right, he succeeded in avoiding a skull-crushing blow from a jagged cutlass, just to come face to face with a whipping tail from one of the attacking mummies. It wrapped itself mercilessly around his throat, clenched its grip before its owner withdrew it with immense force. Will's neck was shattered. The bones connected to the spine was ripped apart, and a shower of flesh, bone splinters and blood coloured the stones. Will's skull tumbled through the air, falling at great speed down past the first level, the second, third and fourth before it tumbled on into the pitch black of the abyss.

Released from its fleshy confines, Will's soul shot out from the mutilated torso and into a mind-shattering acrobatic flight from its assailants. It was like watching a butterfly trying to escape a swarm of fat black bugs – a macabre dance scene performed by victim and perpetrators. The dance was soon becoming tiring for the newly released soul. The scavengers were so many. Losing speed, Will's soul attempted to move upwards, away from the city below, away to where there would be fewer predators. Dodging them was becoming harder and harder, and soon he would be making mistakes.

There was something in his ghostly mind which told Will that if they did catch him, then that would be the real end. He felt it in his entire being. With that knowledge, he strained on, dodging and leaping like a bee being chased away from a jar of strawberry jam in the sun. Suddenly, there was a flash of brilliant blue light up ahead, and Will knew suddenly that's where he had to go. It was his only chance of survival – the only escape from the pitch black madness. He sped on, setting all his strengths on reaching it, and as he did, there was a sudden flux of energy drawing him on, speeding him along until he saw, in a flash, the familiar faces of several people: Jack Sparrow, members of the crew, and then brightest of all, John awaiting with open arms. With abrupt force, everything came to a stand still, as if time itself lingered in its track for a moment, and all was shrouded into merciful darkness. A sense being wrapped in safety soon followed, allowing Will to ease up. All senses seemed blurred, and from a far he heard muffled voices and the steady toll of a beating heart which he knew was not his. The beating was loud, like the chimes of large copper bells tolling for mass on Sundays, and it was all good