Finding Elias took more effort than I’d reckoned. When I finally caught up with him, I could hardly believe it was the same lad. He’s still got that baby face, but there’s a fire in his eyes that’s unmistakable—a mirror of the Captain himself. ‘Course, I never saw the Captain clean-shaven—always had that wiry, gray beard like he’d been born with it.
Yet for all their blood, Elias and the Captain might as well be strangers now. They’ve taken different paths, different fates, but the lust for treasure… aye, that’s one thing they’ve never shaken.
No longer the fearsome pirate Ironhand, he could be mistaken for any other landlubber on this rock. The young’un keeps to himself these days, rarely seen in the camps. He’s carved out a life away from the rabble—living off the land, mining his own shaft like some mountain hermit. He’s now after his own fortune, raw gold and gemstones ripped straight from the belly of the earth. A different kind of treasure than we once chased, but treasure nonetheless.
The codfish tried to talk me out of chasing the beast. That dragon is no stranger around these parts—Bayview’s still got the scars to prove it. Half the island’s been razed in years past, burned to black ash and stone. The folk here are rightfully terrified of it, and Elias was no different. Said I was a fool, a washed-up swashbuckler chasing shadows.
But I knew better.
I knew exactly what would turn his mind.
The small golden statue with ruby eyes, said to be pulled from the depths of Atlantis herself. Legends claim it’s imbued with the power of infinite luck.
If there’s one thing to spark Elias’ fire, it’s the promise of something so coveted, so powerful, that men have given their lives just to lay hands on it.
But as I think back at the destruction on One-Eyed Isle—I find myself wondering. Are the legends of good fortune true?
