Well, I do what I say.Which is why I dont say much

Marco’s blood made the arrow slippery. The sea stone tip made his fingers weak. Repeatedly, frantically, he tried to pull it out. All his failed attempts managed to do was tear his flesh further.

His phoenix was long gone. It’d snapped away into smoke the moment he’d been hit— shot right out of the sky from top speed. The first arrow to make its mark had struck through his throat. The next six looked like spines sticking out of his shoulder. Marco couldn’t speak. He lay curled on his side upon a sand bar. The shallow salt water soaked into his clothes and mixed with his blood.

He tried to rasp through his bloody teeth but nothing he said was intelligible. He tried again, angrier, “Teach…”

Teach laughed. His boots kicked through the water with each enthusiastic step. “Pray for him, Marcos.” The traitor said, exaggerating the accent in his name like Thatch used to do when he was feeling affectionate.

“Teach…” He gurgled through his own blood, “I’m going… to kill you.” Marco couldn’t see him. Even as he craned his neck to watch, Teach’s dark energy blurred his vision until Marco was blinking away tears and screwing his eyes shut. Somehow, his migraine burned.