After everything, he would die by drowning. Not shot, nor cut down in some glorious battle, not with a belly full of rum in his own bed; a beautiful woman at side surrounded by riches and splendor as he had so fruitlessly dreamed. No, Edward Kenway would simply drown, and be forgotten to time. This is all the young pirate could think as he sank into the dark waters, his vision slowly turning black.

It was then he saw them, a vision of people sitting around a table, drinking and laughing in a place he did not recognize. Some were friends, Ben Hornigold, Ed Thatch, the young James Kidd. Some were unfamiliar to him, a rough and angry looking man, with the wildest eyes he'd ever seen second only to Thatch. Another next to him, fair haired and clearly so drunk he didn't know where he was. Then a larger man, with rosy cheeks who looked merry as the day was long, as if he hadn't a care in the world. But as they laughed and sang and drank with the others, Edward decided they fit in just as well. Then the vision changed. First he saw Thatch, the strongest man he knew, broken and bleeding as his body was tossed overboard, down into the drink below. Next he watched the portly fellow, who had just been so happy, as he cried and begged, swearing it was all a mistake, just before the floor fell out from under him and the noose around his neck went taut. A similar fate befell the drunken fellow, though he was laughing all the way. Next he saw the dark haired man, ranting and raving on a deserted beach, his mind clearly lost. Then he saw himself, looking sickly and weak, kneeled over a young woman he did not know, beautiful even though she looked ten times worse than he.

But, no, that wasn't right. He did know her. How did he know her?

"I'll be with you, Kenway. I will."

He heard her say, just before her eyes closed. He knew they would not open again. The vision shifted a final time and he saw himself, looking much older, and so damned tired. His hair was no longer sun bleached, in fact it was so dark it nearly looked black in the low light, as if he had not been to sea in many years. Edward could only watch as a sword was pushed through his own heart. He watched as he fell, watched himself lay there and die, with nothing left to fight for.

Then, strangest of all, there was the man made of light. Garbed in golden robes and ornaments, with light emanating from his very being. He stood a full two heads taller than Edward, his body appearing translucent, as though he were not really there. Slowly he shifted his gaze from the corpse at his feet, and locked eyes with the still living young man before him.

"Edward Kenway." He said, his voice low and smooth.

"This is the path my people... My family, had laid out for you. One leading only to ruin, and misery. They believed their needs may only be met with suffering, or perhaps they simply took joy in that fact, refusing to seek an alternative. I, however, have found a different path. A better path. Choose wisdom, Edward, not greed. Do not waste this gift."

And with that he was gone, and it was dark again, only for a moment, before Edward's eyes shot open and his head snapped around frantically. He was at least thirty meters below the surface, and could still see the fires raging from the ruined ships above him. With no oxygen left in his lungs he kicked and pulled, screaming towards the surface with a strength unknown to him. Finally he broke through, his vision blurred as he greedily sucked in as much air as his body could hold. He could not rest however, with explosions ringing in his ears as the powder reserves on the ships around him were being set alight. And so he kicked off towards the island ahead, swimming for all he was worth. What felt like hours later he finally crawled ashore, his arms and legs jelly, his breathing ragged. Despite this, he laughed as he collapsed onto the sand, not believing he had survived.

"Havana... I must... Get to Havana."

Edward turned his head slightly, glancing at the man who, similarly, was laid out on the beach a few paces away from him, gasping and clutching his sides. Edward was about to retort, make some witty remark about building them another ship, when something in the back of his mind stopped him, and what he called his 'other eyes' clouded his vision, bathing the world around him in blue without his permission for the first time since he was a child. Except, not everything was blue. The man before him was shrouded in red, blazing, bleeding red, so bright it hurt to look at, as though this man were the most dangerous thing that he had ever laid eyes on. And perhaps, he thought, he was.

Not one to question his instincts, Edward kept his mouth shut, slowly pushing himself to his unsteady feet. He began to approach the strange man cautiously, but had barely taken a step before the dark haired man reared back, brandishing a pistol at him. "Back away pirate!" The man spat at him, his eyes wild, but unfocused.

Edward did as he was told, raising his hands and taking a step back.

"Easy mate, easy. I mean you no harm. Now, what say we get you on your feet, aye?" He said, putting on his friendliest face. The man faltered a moment, seeming to weigh his options, before he lowered his pistol. Edward stepped forward slowly, extending a hand down towards him, which the man gratefully took. Edward pulled him to his feet and, in one smooth motion, slipped a small dagger out from under his belt and drove it straight into the man's torso, just under his sternum.

"Sorry, mate." He simply said, pushing the man away from him and snatching the pistol from his hand. The man, as though he did not understand what just happened, stumbled away with a curious gaze as a red circle blossomed outwards on his chest. He glanced down for a moment, then back up at Edward with his head cocked, before tipping over like a felled tree and landing face first in the sand. A few moments later, and Edward was alone again. He sat down on the spot, finally able to properly catch his breath. Try as he might though, he could not collect his thoughts. He seemed to remember dreaming something, something awful, but he could not recall, could not bring anything from the dream to the forefront of his mind. He shook his head, as though trying to dislodge any trapped thoughts before sighing, glancing over at the body next to him. He eyed the strange outfit, almost like an officer's blue uniform save for the queer white hood and copious weapon belts and pouches. Taking in his own singed and tattered rags that had once been a decent shirt, he stood again and moved over to the body. Disrobing quickly, he pulled the strange outfit on before tossing his own clothes and the poor naked sod he killed into the ocean behind him. He then went to dispose of the strange bracers the man had been wearing as well, but again something stopped him. Curious, he slipped one on and fastened the straps. He eyed the thing for a moment, before realizing there was some sort of mechanism on the underside. He fiddled with it and nearly took off his own nose when a blade sprung forth with a deadly hiss. The thing was sleek and wicked looking, clearly made from a finer steel than anything you might find in the West Indies, and sharper than a razor to boot. He flicked his wrist again and the blade retracted, hidden once more. With a smile fitting only a child who had found a new toy, he quickly slipped the second bracer onto his other arm and then set about rummaging through the man's pockets for anything useful. He pulled a strange glass cube from one pouch, examining it for a moment before putting it back. From another pouch he produced a few folded pieces of parchment, though before he could read them he heard a cry in the distance, followed by a gunshot. Mind you, Edward Kenway had no fear of danger, but he would seldom head towards it unless a great prize waited beyond. However, despite all logic, he dropped the papers, taking no notice as the tide licked past his feet and swept them away, and took off running towards the sound. It wasn't long before he came upon a clearing on the other side of the small island, occupied only by several corpses and the uniformed men who had made them. It was then he spotted the man on the ground, babbling about how he was no pirate.

"I assure you sir, this is all a mistake!"

The man cried, and Edward felt a pang in his chest, the image of a noose dancing behind his eyes. He saw the man in charge lining up a shot, ready to kill the poor man laying at his feet, and something inside him snapped. Without a second thought he charged forward like a man possessed, extending the blades on his wrists as though he had done it a thousand times before. The officer had barely begun turning towards the thumping sound behind him before Edward was on him, pushing both blades into his back and lifting him up with with them before slamming him into the dirt. He barely paused before sprinting to the next two soldiers, who hadn't even realized what happened before they each had a blade in the back of their necks and were being planted face first into the ground. There were only three left but each had realized they were under attack. Swords and pistols drawn they faced him, but Edward did not care. He slashed out towards the nearest one, catching his shoulder and cutting a clean line across his face. He used the man's momentum to spin him around and shove a blade into his back. The poor soldier hadn't even hit the ground before Edward was away from him, turning his attention to the next. The man brandished a knife and slashed at him wildly. Edward parried each blow but could not find an opening until, from the corner of his eye, he realized the third man was carefully lining up a shot. He buckled the knee of the man in front of him with a kick before grabbing his arm and wrenching it painfully. The soldier dropped his knife with a cry and in an instant Edward had them spun around, holding the man in front of him just as the other fired, shooting his comrade dead. The third soldier stared open mouthed at what he had just done, dropping the spent pistol. The last thing he would ever see was Edward in front of him, knocking his sword aside and sticking him several times in the torso in quick succession. The man fell dead as Edward stood there, breathing heavily, trying to calm the adrenaline surging through his veins. He could not believe what he had just done. Not that he had killed these men, he had killed before and was sure he would kill plenty more before his time was done. He had just never done it so viciously, or, for that matter, so efficiently. It was as though his body knew how to fight in ways that his mind did not. He would have pondered this, and many other things, longer but just then he heard a soft whimper behind him. He turned around to see the man on the ground had pulled himself to his feet. His hands were out in front of him, as if to placate some beast who hadn't decided whether or not to eat him yet.

"Are you going to kill me?" He asked meekly, stammering over every word.

"Now why would I save you only to kill you mate?" Edward asked, incredulous. Seeing the man was still unconvinced, he spoke in a softer tone. "Calm yourself friend, I mean you no harm. The name's Edward Kenway." He said, extending his arm. In an instant the man's demeanor changed, his shoulders sagged and his breathing evened out before a brilliant smile lit up his face and he took Edward's hand.

"Oh, thank heavens sir, you saved me indeed! I would surely have been killed by these men had you not arrived." He said, shaking Edward's hand vigorously, his smile only growing wider as though all the bloodshed he had just witnessed were a thousand miles away and in another lifetime. "I am Stede Bonnet sir, and a pleasure it is to make your acquaintance. Alas, I fear we may yet die here, as that poor fellow-" he said, gesturing to a corpse that lay nearby, "-was my captain, and since I've no art for sailing myself..."

"You have a ship?" Edward asked, and Stede pointed out to the water behind him. Indeed, sitting out in the bay was a fine looking schooner, rather small but would do more than well enough in getting him the hell off this island. "Worry not Bonnet, I can pilot your ship." He said with an easy smile. Stede first looked shocked, then relieved before his expression became questioning.

"Edward... You're not a, uh, a pirate, are you?" He asked nervously. Edward stared blankly a moment before raising a brow, "and if I am?" He asked simply.

Bonnet stuttered, waving his hands frantically, "I meant no offense sir, none at all! It's just that, well, you've got a certain, ehm, air about you and-"

"Easy man, I was only joking. I'm a privateer." Edward said with a laugh. "Where are you heading then Bonnet?" He asked.

"To Havana, I am a merchant you see, off to sell my wares and the like, before these ruffians set upon me. Can you believe they actually thought I was a pirate? Me! A pirate!" He said with a jolly laugh. "And, your destination sir?"

"Well, my destination is anywhere save for this godforsaken island, and Havana fits that description quite nicely."

"Natural allies then!" Stede said happily. "Unfortunately, I've no rowboat, so we'll have to swim..."

And so it was that Edward Kenway found himself accompanying his funny new friend to Havana, intent on nothing more than finding passage back to Nassau.