"It can't be," Edward said. He had never told anyone about what had happened to him. Not even Anne knew. There was no way that his father could have heard about it from one of his spies.
"I told you that I was proud of the man you had become. You told me about your adventures, the keys, everything. I had been Calico Jack for a time by then, and work had already begun on the trials and the keys. It was then that I knew this was the right path to take." Jack held his hands out to his side and closed his eyes. "Now, end it, Edward. End it, son."
Edward looked at his father, arms open and eyes closed, calling on Edward to kill him. Edward lifted his cutlass and pointed it at Jack Rackham, at Benjamin Hornigold, at his father, Albert Thatch, who had raised him, for good or ill, to be the man he was today. The one who had put him through so many trials, both fantastical and horrifying; trials that had made him stronger, but had also caused him so much pain; trials that had allowed him to meet his captor who made him want to die, but also his wife who gave him a reason to live on.
"I…"
"Do it, Edward!" Herbert shouted from behind him.
"Do it, Ed ya bastard!" Sam said, his voice strained.
"I… can't," Edward said. He dropped his blade to the ground, and it fell with a clang.
"What?" his father said, opening his eyes to look at his son.
"I can't do it. Despite everything you've done, I love you. I can't do this." Edward felt hollow. "Please, just stop this madness. We don't have to fight each other. This is a fool's errand."
"Pathetic," his father snarled. "How did I raise a boy so weak as you? We don't have to fight each other? Everything has been building to this moment, you snivelling little shit. I don't have… When I'm gone, someone needs to rule here, and you're supposed to be that someone." Jack took a deep breath, rubbed his temples, and let out a sigh. "Then I suppose I'll have to settle for second place. Perhaps after I kill you, your wife will try to get revenge. If she manages to kill me, she could be a queen yet. Better a queen of pirates than the alternative, I'd say."
Edward's thoughts went back to Anne, and just what his father was saying. He was going to try killing Anne next. Edward knew that Anne would seek revenge, there was no way she wouldn't. Edward, in his current state of mind, cared little for his own life, but he still cared deeply for Anne. He loved her more than he loved himself. He also loved her more than he loved his father.
The thought of Anne dying took over his mind, and a wave of great anger washed over him. It stripped away the floating feeling he had been holding onto during the fight. It ripped from his body the arresting memories that haunted him. Rage took over.
Jack stepped forward and thrust his blade at Edward's chest. Edward rolled out of the way, grabbed his blade mid-roll, and slashed his father's stomach. His father couldn't dodge out of the way, and the blade sliced through him from front to back.
Edward bounded to his feet and turned around to clash blades with his father again, but Jack had fallen over and was bleeding out from the wound on his stomach. It was a mortal wound, Edward was sure.
Edward ran over to his father and pressed on the wound.
"No, no," Albert said. "Go get Herbert." Edward, his mind in shock, going from enraged to his instinct to save his father, couldn't hear him. "Go, go," he said again. This time Edward heard.
Edward got up and turned around to see Herbert sitting up, watching everything. Sam was nearby, wounded and breathing heavy, but alive. Grace was lying in a pool of her own blood farther away.
Herbert was listless and pale, but from the tears in his eyes, he knew what had happened. Edward picked Herbert up and brought him over to his dying father.
"He's here, Dad, Herbert's here."
Albert, his face soaked with sweat, and already paler than Herbert, was barely clinging to what little life was left in him. He reached out and touched both of them.
"I'm proud of both of you. You've become so strong," he said. "Herbert, you became a fine helmsman; better, I heard, than any I knew in my lifetime." The pool of blood beneath the three of them was growing and covered his father's whole body. "Edward, I'm sorry for what I made you do, but I wanted this. Don't blame yourself." Albert reached into his pocket and took out the driftwood seashell necklace that had once belonged to Edward's mother and handed it to him. "It's yours now. Don't lose it, it's the only thing of hers left."
Edward, his hand shaking, took the necklace and nodded. His memory of his mother was faint, but at that moment it felt stronger than it had before.
Albert's voice was fading fast, and he had trouble keeping his eyes open. "And I forgive both of you for John. He was a good boy; he wouldn't fault you for what you did." Albert couldn't keep himself up any longer, his strength waning. "I'll see him soo…" Albert's voice trailed off, and his eyes closed.
"Dad?" Edward called, but his father didn't answer.
Herbert pulled Edward in close and embraced him. Edward couldn't help but weep for his father's death. Despite everything that he had done, he still loved him, and Edward mourned.
The two sat in the middle of the road in Nassau for several minutes, the crowd around them silent. Then a chant began, starting with one person in the crowd, then another,
