Erin bit her lip. She still didn't know enough to trust the man, but he seemed to know more about curses than anyone she had ever met. His name also sounded familiar. She knew she had heard it before but couldn't place it. Now, she was left with a problem. Should she free him from the cage next? What would he do once he was free?

"No man deserves to be behind bars." Sayed looked down at her. "If he was a captive of the Military Police, then what better thing to do than to let him free?"

"There are times when people need to be arrested," Erin said, raising her eyebrow at Sayed. "While I don't like the Scions or the Military Police, they do put away people who deserve it sometimes."

Erin was a member of the People's Revolution, but that didn't mean she was an anarchist. If the revolution succeeded, they would need their own new system of order to keep people safe across the nightsea. The Scions were just too powerful to let rule.

"Then, what did you do to deserve your imprisonment?" Sayed turned to Jean, placing one hand on the top of the bars.

"Disturbing the peace," Jean said, smiling at Sayed. "I think the most recent charge was stealing supplies from them to give to those who needed them."

"That sounds like a fine charge to me." Sayed laughed. "We should let him out."

"You realize he could be lying, right?" Erin rubbed her forehead as what felt like a headache came on.

"Ah." Sayed nodded solemnly before turning to look back at Jean. "Are you lying, brother?"

"Of course not." Jean chuckled back at Sayed.

"There you have it."

Erin resisted the urge to hit Sayed. He was the most infuriating person to be around at times, but he was strong, and if Jean proved to be a real problem, she knew that Sayed would be the first to handle it. Together, they could do something about the man, assuming he did want to attack.

"Okay." Erin sighed and deflated a little. "We'll let you out, but there's not much we can do for you. If we go to another port, there's a chance a patrol might spot us."

"So, I'm to come along on your journey?" Jean chuckled again, stepping back from the bars and rubbing at his wrists. "So long as the trip is interesting, it matters little to me."

Erin shook her head and walked over to the door to the cage. She took her time inside the lock to unlatch it with her lever and pick. After a few minutes of work, it clicked open, and the door swung inward.

Creak.

"A thousand thanks to all of you," Jean said as he stepped through the bars and out into the cargo bay. "I don't know how I shall repay this debt, but remember that I owe you much."

Erin stepped back and away from him, keeping her distance until he held out the black hilt of her dagger. Cautiously, she reached forward and took it before returning it to her belt. She still didn't trust him.

"What do you know about curses? That would be a start." Erin watched him as he stretched his bony arms. "What happened to your body, or what are you?"

"Let me answer the first as I stretch these old bones," Jean said, walking over to a wall and flexing his arms and body against it.

"Firstly, as to who I am. I am Jean Baptiste, known to the authorities as Baptiste 'the Reanimator.'"

A cold stone dropped into Erin's stomach as she heard the words. She had heard his name before. Like the rest of them, he had a bounty out for his head. That wasn't necessarily a bad thing, depending on what was done to earn the bounty, but the moniker 'the Reanimator' did not bode well.

"I started my newest life after my friend stabbed me in the back," Jean continued. "My wife lay dead in my arms, and I set about my path to resurrect her. I have learned much about curses in my time as I sought her out."

He lifted his robes, revealing a skeletal rib cage beneath it, bound by a tight black shirt. Erin could see through him to where Sayed watched from the other side. A purple crystal floated at the center of his chest, where his heart would have been if he had any organs. It glowed faintly in pulses throughout his body.

"Mine will be more visible than yours," Jean said, reaching a skeletal finger down and tapping it against his crystal.

Tink.

"Yours would look like a heart to your eyes, but I lost my heart long ago. Inside each cursed person, straddling the barrier between the Real and the Surreal, there is a crystal that allows them to channel aether from the Surreal."

He dropped down his robes and walked by the cage to where Alex lay. He tapped Alex's chest, where the metal device was embedded around his heart. Erin followed him around, and Sayed moved to the opposite side, his hands held open.

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"I don't know what this is, but this 'Alex' has a crystal in his heart, like every curse user. I can see the ball growing inside of him, and soon his curse will change. I cannot predict what will happen, but I have never seen a curse grow weaker, only stronger."

"And how long will that take?" Erin bit her lip.

"A day, two at most," Jean said, shaking his head. "Whatever you planned to do by hijacking this ship, I assume you will have the time. If not, you may need to change your plans."

"We're taking the ship to Death's Yard." Erin sighed. "It was already going to be dangerous enough with just the three of us, but now..."

"You're going to Death's Yard?" Jean frowned at her, his hand flat above Alex as he raised his eyebrows. "How fantastic! I knew the bones weren't lying! This is going to be so exciting!"

----------------------------------------

Alex floated in a cold ocean. Above him, the night sky flitted by, and the waves rolled back and forth below him, sending him swaying deeper and deeper into the night. It wasn't so different from the waters he had found himself in ten years prior—before the lab, before the experiments, before the chaos that his life had become.

For the first time in a decade, he let out the release of the tension he had held inside of his chest. The first thing he learned from his cell neighbor when he came to the nightsea was that he couldn't show weakness. He couldn't lose. He had to strive to fight his way forward and break through any wall in his path. If he didn't, he would never see his home again.

"What do you think, WPN Eight? How far have I made it in five years? How far do I have to go? Why does my desire to go home never fade from my mind?"

He thought that, in ten years, the memories of his family would fade. He thought he would forget the nights his mom cooked pastel de papa when he came home from university. He could still smell the beef browning on the skillet and hear the potatoes boiling over on the stove while his mother tried not to curse.

He thought he would forget the Gualeguaychú Carnival when they would drive out to watch the parades. The colorful costumes and loud music weren't his favorite because he had always been a quiet child, but now they were like beacons back to the past. He would return to them joyfully if he could see his family again.

He thought he would forget his cousins and his siblings and their nightly texts, making sure he was okay. His family was gone, and part of his mind told him he must move on. However, there was just one problem.

"Yet, it's still with me, even now. Ten years, my family. Ten years apart, and I'm still so far away. Why has it not faded? Why do I still want to go home?"

Tears dropped down his face, and Alex didn't bother to keep them locked inside. He just let them fall into the ocean. Salt into salt. Pain into cold. He simply allowed himself to cry for the first time in a long time.

As the feeling drained out of his body, a thought crossed his mind: Pastel de papa. It hadn't changed to the uniform language of Erth, Gualeguaychú as well. Zanhai, Sha-om, as Erin would often say.

Certain phrases didn't translate across and kept their name. He didn't know what the information could be useful for, but it struck him as odd. Why did those names not translate in mind or in speech?

"Another mystery of the nightsea," Alex said as the wet slap of sand touched his shoulders.

He reached down, and his hands sunk into the sand below him. With some effort, he managed to roll over and look out around him. A beach stretched out in front of him in the night, with a dark jungle on its edge. Alex stepped onto that beach and took a deep breath of the cold night air.

"Where am I?"

“Where do you think you are?” an old man's voice called out from behind him, and Alex turned to face him.

A bent elderly man in rags stood behind him, leaning on a cane as he stroked at his wispy white beard. A pair of rounded but broken spectacles rested on his nose. Alex didn’t recognize him, but he knew the voice—all too well.

“I never saw you, old man,” Alex said, frowning as he looked the man up and down. “And you never gave me your name beyond your designation. Is this what you really looked like, WPN Eight?”

“Who knows?” The old man shrugged. “We’re in your world, not mine.”

“And why are we here? Is this a dream, or am I losing my mind?” Alex asked, walking closer to the old man.

“I’m merely here to get you to ponder a single question.” The old man smiled, looking out into the jungle to his right. “What do you think you are missing, Alex? You’ve had your curse for a long time now. What is it that you need more than anything else.”

A sudden pain shot through Alex’s heart, his gate opening as electricity spasmed through his body. He had nearly forgotten in the foggy haze of the dream world he was in, but his curse was acting strangely. Something was happening to it, and he didn’t know what. He looked down at his chest and put his hand over his heart.

“It does always feel like something is lacking, doesn’t it?” Alex said as electricity fired all through his nerves across his body. “There’s always room for improvement. I like being able to move metal objects, but there’s a problem.”

“You don’t always have metal around you,” the old man said.

“Yeah.” Alex nodded. “I can’t count the times I’ve had to chase down metal or how often I’ve just had to rely on the two techniques you taught me to fight my way through. It would have changed entire fights.”

“That would definitely shore up your weaknesses, but are you sure?” the old man asked as he looked over Alex. “I’m certain there are other things you could think of as well. New ways to use your power. Other ways that your curse could change.”

“Maybe.” Alex smirked. “But you know me, old man. I’m a pragmatist, first and foremost. If I see a problem, I’m going to solve that problem.”

“Very true.” The old man laughed. “Well then, let me guide you one more time. Close your eyes and focus on your curse.”

Alex did as he asked, closing his eyes and focusing on the electric feel ripping through his body. Shots of lighting ran out from his heart and down his arms. Alex took in a deep breath, taking hold of his power and focusing on controlling it.

“Now, call on the power and tell it to do what you need it to do.”

Alex focused on his curse, imagining how the power should work. Sparks of electricity should form around him as he generated a piece of metal, entirely formed by what he imagined. Whether a long piece of metal, a flat wall, or even an augmentation of his own body, the mark would be a flash of blue electric light before the piece of metal was his to command.

“Now, get ready for the pain.”

“What?”

Alex had a single moment before his entire world turned white, and pain ripped through his body.