El tiempo de mi regreso ha llegado. (The time for my return has come.)
I possess no recollection of my rescue from the ocean's depths beyond the kiss of a gentle wave upon a moonlit beach and an earnest desire to be free of the confines of the ethereal realm that bound me. The next thing I knew I was once again in Sosaria standing outside a home in the Yew woods watching Kaylor as he stepped outside to summon his steed. Recognition came upon me quickly, memories stolen by death settling firmly back into place as though they'd never been gone. We smiled at each other. Closing the distance between us, I reached out to embrace him only to discover my arms slipping through his solid form like a shadow disappearing beneath the full moon's hallowed glare. Aún muerto. (Still dead.) Fate had returned me to my brother's side without explanation . . . and without life.
Kaylor became obsessed with finding a way to have me resurrected. Weeks turned into months before he was able to meet with success through the assistance of a fellow knight who introduced him to a friend of his, a necromancer of sorts. My agreement to this resurrection did not come without its price. I would taste the breath of life once more, appear as human to all who set eyes upon me. Without a heart, however, two years' passage would wear upon the enchantment, pulling me back to the corporeal kingdom from whence I'd come. It was a contract I never discussed with Kay until last night. He took it with great pain just as I knew he would, thus the reason I spared him the knowledge until necessity's demand. We spoke on it for hours until I was confident of his accepting calm.
The sea calls me back, my heart beating rhythmically within the distant mists. Manuel Rivero must die. The Starfire Escort must be cleansed of the perra who corrupts it and restored to the purpose for which it was intended.
Once again I reached out to embrace mi hermano only to discover my arms slipping through his solid form like a shadow disappearing . . . . .
Jamison's voiced boomed like a cannon blast through the bulkhead. Muerte leapt from his bunk heaving the quilted comforter aside with wreakless abandon. These were the words he'd waited months to hear! He grabbed his trousers from the footlocker and hurriedly stepped into their tailored fit, fumbling with the lacings as he shot through the hatch. Taking the ladder two rungs at a time he couldn't get to the foc'sle fast enough, all but losing his footing on the freshly swabbed deck in his frenzied rush to see The Escort finally surfaced.
"Let me have a look!"
"Aye, Cappy." Jamison lay the heavy brass spyglass across his captain's outstretched palm.
Muerte knew much had changed during his absence. Rivero had managed to gain quite a stronghold in the wake of The Escort's powerful assistance. The Lords were now operating with seeming independence, each in his or her respective domain, but every act of terror, every death wrought upon the seas, was by the dictation of Manuel Rivero, their pirate king.
"Hola, perra!" A jubilant smile lit Muerte's gaze as The Escort's ghostly sails billowed into focus. "¡Es un placer tan gran de verle otra vez! ¿Bailaremos?" (It's such a great pleasure to see you again! Shall we dance?)
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