FOR THIRTY-TWO days, the wind doesn't falter, the currents flow strong, and the food stores remain sufficient. The nice weather and even better sailing conditions put the crew in surprisingly high spirits, leaving them to belt sea shanties to the salted breeze for hours.

The blood has long been washed from the deck planks, injuries sustained from the pirate attack healed over and leaving only scars, including my own.

For thirty-two days, the Dawn Treader with her lithe dragon hull and rich purple sail cuts through the eastern ocean without so much as a few clouds blocking out the sun. For thirty-two damned days, nothing exciting happens. Nothing at all.

I find myself stuck back in the loop of night watches, hauling the ropes, cleaning the deck, working the rigging, and even operating the bilge pump, as I'm the only one of the crew who can essentially turn off their sense of smell. Thankfully, I have Caspian's company to fall back on when I need to, breaking up my routine with a sparring session or even just talking with him on the stateroom balcony.

My real saving grace is my shifting, though. Whenever I find the time, I'll take to the sky and practice my winged forms, hoping to perfect a simple pair of wings I might add to my human form if need be (the real trick has been finding a way to accommodate for my bodyweight without altering too much of the existing bone and muscle structure). Or, on the slower sailing days, I'll swim just behind the ship, perfecting my marine forms, studying the creatures of the ocean, and riding the white-crested wake of the Dawn Treader.

And on the days my bones ache and my muscles burn and my skin is marked with too many bruises to count, I climb the dragon figurehead and sit in the lookout's perch, watching the horizon for all it might bring. Which is exactly what I do on the thirty-second day of our voyage to Brenn. In fact, with the golden sun shining upon the prow, I decide to lay along the dragon's flat snout in my red cat form and bathe in its warmth.

The ocean is calm and doesn't spray up to mist my fur, and the massive sail behind me catches any wind that might be a bother. It's the perfect place to laze in the sun, out of the crew's way and with the best view to offer. I know it's unlikely we'll have such perfect weather for the rest of the voyage, so I make sure to enjoy it while I can, the shanties sung by the men lulling me into a state of almost-sleep. Until the loud shout of the spotter rings through the air, calling about something in the water.

"Off the larboard bow, captain! Looks like men adrift!"

I straighten, sharpening my eyes to see whatever Baziras spotted in the water. It does look like men — three of them — with their heads and shoulders bobbing just above the water, no evidence of a shipwreck or a boat in sight. They don't seem to be panicking, either. Just calmly treading water in the middle of the ocean. How did they get so far out?

"Bring her about!" Drinian orders. "Take in the sail and prepare to weigh anchor!"

The Dawn Treader veers to larboard, the riggers working quickly to take in the sail while the deck crew prepares the anchor. We draw closer to the men adrift and I watch as a fourth appears, their head breaking from the water to reveal long, golden hair.

I narrow my eyes, focusing on their calm expressions and unusual lack of clothing and how their arms don't appear to be moving at all...

I suck in a breath, stiffening when I realize where we are: between Terebinthia and the Seven Isles. Right in the damn middle of the Bight of Calormen.

Without a thought, I leap from the dragon figurehead into the ocean below, taking on my mermaid form despite the pain it inevitably brings. The water is cold and bites at my skin, the familiar tang of salt on my lips when I resurface and hear Rithar yelling from the main deck, "Man overboard!"

Quickly, I swim from the ship's path and toward the figures in the water. I have no idea how to approach them or what to say first, but even if I do, I'm not sure I'd be able to. I'm too busy staring, hard as I try not to.

Three of them appear to be women, while the fourth must be a man. Their faces are long and angular, with skin that seems to glow beneath the water's surface like opalescent pearls. They have large eyes of the lightest blues and greens, their hair long and ranging from golden yellow to black. Their strange beauty steals the air from my throat.

Only when I draw closer can I confirm my assumption, seeing for myself through the blue water their large tails surging back and forth, keeping them afloat.

"You're Merfolk," I breathe, not bothering to conceal my disbelief. Not when the four of them look just as stunned as me.

"You come from Narnia?" One of them asks. And her voice is like a sound I've never heard. I can't think of anything to compare it to but a soft, low-pitched hum with slight variations.

I nod my confirmation and the Merpeople look between each other with an expression I can't place.

"Narnian ships have not sailed since the Dark Age," the one with golden hair states. Behind me, I can hear shouting from the Dawn Treader and a loud splash as someone dives overboard. Caspian, if I have to guess.

"You are a chimæra."

I meet the merman's curious gaze. "Yes; I've come hoping to find others. Do you know where I can find them?"

He just shakes his head, and one of the mermaids answers for him. "They have not been seen in forty years."

What?

"They came in droves for days," adds another, her hair like black ink. "And disappeared."

My heart flounders. "Disappeared?" I repeat hoarsely. "Where?" Cornelius said they went to the ocean. He said they left Narnia to hide here. They're supposed to be here.

The one with golden hair reads my despair with a pitying frown. "I am sorry, young one. No one knows."

"Some believe they reached the end of the world," the dark-haired merman says softly.

I might be crying, but I can't tell with the saltwater already clinging to my skin. "Can you help me spread a message to them? If you ever come across one?"

The blonde mermaid nods, prompting her companions to do the same.

I lift my hand from the water, showing them the birthmark that's caused the world so much trouble, but brought me love all the same. "Tell them Arryn Witchslayer bears the mark and defeated Jadis. That Narnia is safe to return to. Tell them they don't have to hide anymore."

"The White Witch?" One whispers, exchanging a wide-eyed glance with her friends.

But the mermaid before me just nods again. "We will do what we can."

I wish I had more words to offer her and express how much their help and kindness means to me, but in my stricken state all I can manage is a quiet "Thank you."

And by the light in her green eyes and the sad smile on her lips, I think those two words say everything I need them to.

━━━༻❁༺━━━

Dusnun is there to help me climb back aboard the ship, immediately offering a towel to both dry and cover myself with. I thank him, wrapping the soft fabric around my body while avoiding the prying gazes of the crew around me. They want to know what the hell I threw myself into the ocean for.

"Captain's angry," Dusnun warns in a low voice.

I figured he would be. I completely stepped out of line by jumping overboard without warning.

"Any orders from the king?" He asks.

I glance behind me, at the four Merpeople and King of Narnia treading water in the ocean below — the strangest council between nations I've ever seen.

"No," I respond. "He's just talking with them. Unless he starts drowning, he said to wait for orders."

"Are they mermaids?" One of the men demands, cutting into our conversation impatiently.

"Merfolk," I correct. "Yes."

My confirmation earns a surge of shocked gasps from everyone gathered, and they rush to the bulwark to get a better view of the fabled people of the ocean, long disappeared from Narnia's shores. I can't blame them for their behaviour. I jumped off a moving ship into the ocean on the off chance that it might have been them.

Dusnun claps my shoulder, glancing toward the quarterdeck where the displeased captain awaits. "Good luck," he mutters.

I manage a thin smile and make my way toward Drinian while the rest of the crew is preoccupied with their King and the Merpeople in the water. And the young Telmarine is right, he does look angry. But I keep my head held high and ascend the stairs to the upper deck.

Standing at the helm, Rynelf shoots me a brief look that says good luck, just as Dusnun did.

I meet Drinian's diamond-hard gaze, feeling my resolve falter for a moment under it. "I want to apologize for acting out of line," I begin. "I shouldn't have jumped overboard without saying anything. It won't happen again."

"You do well to apologize," he mutters. "I have half a mind to assign you bilge pump duties until we reach the Seven Isles." His words are sharp. And despite knowing I well deserve it, I still pray he'll have a change of heart. Working the bilge pump is by far the worst thing I can think to do on this damned ship. I'd have more fun spending every waking hour of my life with Rithar.

Still, I nod my head, concealing my irritation. "I understand, captain."

The older Telmarine lifts an eyebrow, his expression unreadable as it's set in its usual half-scowl. "I know your young heart pines for adventure," he says. "And the weeks on this ship feel like they never end, but a crew must be able to rely on one other in the worst of circumstances. We can't do that if you're off breaking rules and stepping out of line every time something out of the ordinary happens. Is that clear?"

I nod again, his disappointment already feeling like punishment enough. Why can't I ever keep myself in check?

"One more off-step and you'll be working the pump for three months. For now, three weeks." Drinian turns to look out across the main deck, but still speaks to me. "Find dry clothes, take your lunch ration. We won't raise anchor for at least an hour."

I don't feel like doing either, but I bow my head and retreat belowdecks, swiping a stick of jerky from the food stores on my way to the crew's quarters. My hammock resides deep in the Dawn Treader's stern compartment, a bag containing my belongings suspended next to it. Close to nothing is kept on the floor if it can be helped — a precaution taken to avoid possible water damage or items sliding around in large swells and battering the hull.

I dig through my clothes, taking a moment to run my fingers over the comforting, worn, blue velvet of an old shirt before pulling on a loose, white cotton one and blue velvet trousers. I forgo the red waistcoat worn by the crew, but tie on the belt and slip my boots on before trudging back up to the main deck.

All I really want to do is don my hawk form and escape from the ship and the crew for a few hours. All I want is somewhere to think without the creak of the wooden planks and the constant swaying of the deck under my feet, where I can feel the endless sky at the tips of my wings and the wind against my feathers, the only sound so far away from the ship my own heart beating in my ears. But with my latest diving act, I'm sure there isn't a man aboard who would appreciate me disappearing so soon. So instead, I cross the deck to the stateroom (also doubling as Caspian's cabin) and wait there for my friend to return.

I circle the lavishly decorated room, running my fingers over the intricate carvings in the wood accents and the painted murals between the shelving, depicting a time long past — the time of High King Peter and King Edmund and Queens Susan and Lucy. Images made real from the pages of my favourite story books.

And between them, carefully displayed as if proving these people to once be real, are a magnificent sword with a lion head hilt, a glass cordial and dagger, an ivory horn, a bow with arrows of red fletching, a silver torch, and a second sword of much less grandeur than the first.

It's been a while since I took the time to remember the Pevensies and all the times we shared together, the nights and days of our trek to Aslan's How, the battle preparations, the celebrations held at the palace afterward…

I've been so busy securing allies and fighting wars with Caspian the last few years we haven't had the chance to relive the brief ten days we knew them for. Ten days, I think in awe. What a short time to know someone.

My hearing picks up on a commotion outside, and a minute later the stateroom door is pushed open to reveal a dripping-wet King Caspian wrapped up in a towel.

He fixes me with a hard look. "Do that again," he warns, "and the next time something exciting happens I'll lock you in here"

"Sorry," I mumble.

The king sighs, tightening the towel around his shoulders. "What did Drinian give you?"

I turn away from the sword in front of me. "Three weeks on the pump."

He doesn't look surprised. "I'm not going to have it revoked."

"I know." I deserve it. I need it, as a matter of fact. And he knows it as well as everyone else. It's not easy moving from the whole word to just a ship in the middle of it.

Caspian's expression softens as his initial anger wears off. "Meseina promised to bring word back to her people."

I nod, feeling faraway with the reminder of what the golden-haired mermaid told me about the chimæras.

Disappeared.

"Good," I manage. Narnia needs this alliance with the Sea Nation. But when I meet his gaze, he seems to be waiting for something else from me.

"What?" I ask.

"Did they know anything?"

They're gone.

"They said they passed through and weren't seen again. No one knows where they are, or if they made it to the end of the world."

Pity fills his brown eyes. "Did you still ask them?"

I nod, biting the inside of my cheek as I trace the scar on my thumb.

"We'll keep looking," he says. And he's right. Though we're following an invisible forty year-old trail, I won't stop. I can't. I'll go mad if I give up so soon. Even if it leads to nothing. I'm the one who made them leave, and I'll be damned if I don't try to bring them back home.

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author's note

a bilge pump pumps bilge water from the bilge lmao

in layman's words: water leaks into the lowest portion of the ship (the bilge) and collects, becoming rank and gross (bilge water), and needs to be pumped out using what's called a bilge pump. the job of operating the pump was usually given to the lowest ranking crew members for obvious reasons lol

also, punishments on ships in medieval times are known to be quite serious and usually included lashings or keelhauling, but the narnians are way more civilized than that so arryn just got a really shitty job instead

this chapter would have been released way earlier but I've been working full-time running summer camps all week and I haven't had any time to finish it off until now i'm sorry

btw it's canon that arryn sleeps in edmund's blue shirt from the pc timeline oop–

school starts in one month and i'm having flashbacks from last year of waking up at 5am to make it to my 4-hour in-person classes every day i'm not ready

anyway i hope y'all enjoy the rest of summer!