Templar's Creed

Chapter 43

The world around them seemed to slow as the shell descended, the flaming projectile casting a hellish glow over the dueling warriors. Edward threw himself to the side, the skull clutched tightly to his chest. The explosion was deafening, the shockwave tossing him through the air like a ragdoll. He felt the heat on his back, the very air seeming to scorch his skin. When he hit the ground, his ears were ringing, and his vision was a blur of fire and smoke.

Through the haze, he saw the grisly aftermath. The spot where Lucia and du Casse had stood was now a crater filled with smoldering flesh and bone. The Sage's body, once a bastion of wisdom and hope, was unrecognizable amidst the carnage. The skull in Edward's grasp was now the sole beacon of the battle, its pulsing light undiminished by the carnage around it.

The Templars, stunned by the sudden and brutal turn of events, had ceased their attack, their eyes darting to the smoking wreckage of the ship and then back to Edward. The pirate captain took a moment to survey the scene, the weight of his losses heavy upon his shoulders. The Jackdaw, once a symbol of freedom and rebellion, now lay in ruins, her fiery embrace a grim reminder of the cost of their quest.

With a roar that seemed to shake the very foundation of the island, Edward leaped to his feet, the crystal skull's power surging within him. The light from the artifact washed over the battle-scarred faces of his crew, who had managed to survive the explosion. They looked to their captain with a mix of hope and dread, knowing that the path ahead was fraught with danger.

The Templar ship that had fired the mortar had drawn closer, and Edward knew they had to act fast. "To the boats!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the smoke and fire. "We're not finished yet!" His words were met with a chorus of battle cries as the pirates rallied around him, their eyes alight with determination.

But before Edward could even take a step towards the lifeboats, he was intercepted by a figure that emerged from the smoke like a specter from the depths of hell itself. It was Woodes Rogers, a man whose name was whispered in taverns across the Caribbean—a man who had earned a reputation as a relentless Templar general and Edward's personal nemesis. The pirate captain's heart sank as he saw the cold, calculating expression on Rogers's face.

"Edward Teach," the general began, his voice a chilling calm amidst the chaos. "You've caused quite the ruckus." Rogers's eyes fell to the skull in Edward's hand, and his smile grew into a predatory grin. "I see you've found what we've been looking for."

Edward's rage was a living entity, a tempest that threatened to consume him. Yet, he remained eerily calm, his eyes never leaving Rogers. "This isn't yours to take," he growled through gritted teeth, the skull's light pulsing in his grasp.

Rogers stepped closer, his movements measured and precise, a stark contrast to the chaos that surrounded them. "We've had this conversation before, Edward," he said, his voice a serene counterpoint to the fury in Edward's eyes. "You pirates are but pawns in a game you do not understand."

Edward's grip tightened on the skull, the pulse of its power a living testament to the stakes they played for. "This is not a game," he spat. "This is about freedom. Something you know nothing of."

Without warning, the skull in Edward's hand flared to life, casting a blinding light that enveloped the two men. The battle around them seemed to freeze as the barrier formed, a dome of energy that stretched from the water's edge to the scorched heavens above. The pirates and Templars alike watched in awe and fear as the ancient artifact claimed its stage, the air crackling with the promise of power unbridled.

The barrier shimmered like the surface of a frozen lake, a stark contrast to the hellish inferno of the sinking ships. Within its confines, Edward and Woodes Rogers faced each other, their eyes locked in a silent challenge. The skull's pulse grew stronger, and the ground beneath their boots trembled with anticipation.

Rogers's gaze never left the skull, his eyes gleaming with a mix of fascination and greed. He had heard the legends, knew the power it could unleash. To him, it was a tool to bend the world to the Templar will, a means to achieve the order he believed in so fervently. Yet, there was something in the way Edward held it that spoke of a deeper connection, a bond that transcended mere possession.

The general took a step forward, his hand extended in a gesture of peace. "You don't have to die here, Edward," he said, his voice measured and calm amidst the cacophony of the battle. "Give me the skull, and I'll let you and your men live."

Edward's laugh was harsh and bitter, the sound echoing through the dome of light. "You think I'd trust you after what you've done?" He gestured to the wreckage of the Jackdaw, the fiery tomb of his friends and crewmates. "You've killed everything I've ever loved. Why would I ever deal with you?"

Woodes Rogers's smile didn't waver, the flames reflecting in his eyes as he spoke. "You've lost much tonight, Teach," he said, his voice low and almost soothing. "But with the skull, you can change that. Think of the power you could wield, the lives you could save. Think of the future you could shape."

Edward's grip on the skull tightened, the light from within pulsing more erratically with his racing heart. "Your future is a prison," he spat. "I'd rather die than hand it to you."

Rogers's smile remained, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes—respect, perhaps, or a touch of admiration for the pirate's unyielding spirit. "Very well," he said, his voice still calm. "But remember, Edward. The choice is still yours."

With that, the dome of light surrounding them flickered and vanished, plunging the battleground into darkness once more. The skull's pulse grew erratic, its light casting strange shadows across the grimy faces of the pirates and Templars alike. Edward knew he had to act fast before the enemy regrouped. "Get the skull to safety!" he roared to his remaining crew, his voice carrying over the sounds of battle. "We'll settle this later!"

The surviving pirates nodded grimly and retreated, carrying the Sage's body and the skull away from the doomed ship, their footsteps echoing against the wooden planks. Edward watched them go, his eyes never leaving Rogers. The Templar general had not moved, his eyes still fixed on the pirate captain.