I’faith I did’na think I woulde e’er have my heart softened by the one whom they call the Great Barbarian. Perhaps I have been too hasty in my judgements of captainbarbossa. We have agreed to set aside our past anamosities and let bygones be bygones. His bloode does remember, as does mine. What the bloode remembers, the rest of the body is not soon to forget. By the Goddess, he is the same man that he ever was, yet neither living nor dead. They say that it ’tis my own fault that we are in fact tied. T’was my owne spell that began it:
Bloode to bind
Our faytes intertwined
A drop of my life’s essence
To mix with thine
My sacrifice forever leaving me
Etched ‘pon your mind.
I let the drops of my bloode go into the flesh of the apple itself. Woulde he notice as he bit into it? Woulde the spell take effect ‘pon the man and leave me free to my fayte? I had made a sacrifice indeed. I was gambling with my life, with my future, with all the daemons of Hell. I had the attention of Satan, Himself and He knewe, as well as surely I did, that my gamble woulde leave me in one place or the ‘tother. Mr. Scratch, they say, never passes up a sucker bet, particularly one that He coulde easily expect to win. I licked at a hot tear that had slid down my cheek and tasted the salt.
Captain Hector Barbossa, I knewe would consume the apple and it coulde be that he woulde try to consume me. No matter if he were successful or not, my fayte woulde be bound to his – until such time as the curse woulde be broken. Ev’ry time that he bit into a green apple or saw one, the curse, the spell woulde be renewed.
It was my owne freedom as well as my owne soul that I gambled with, but then again, what is such a thing to the Wytch?