BY DAY six I've more than learned my lesson and vow never to step out of line again. Despite being unable to smell the rancid water expelled from the pump, its murky-brown appearance and slimy feel against my skin is more than enough to set my stomach churning. The men around me, though glad the job isn't theirs, seem to suffer just as much. Their faces twist in disgust from the smell, hands clasped over their mouths and noses when they come too close or manage an unfortunate step into a puddle on deck.

Thankfully, the bilge only needs to be emptied once a week, but by the end of the first week, I realize it's much easier to spend two or three short afternoons on the pump rather than a whole day. So, much to the crew's displeasure, they have to endure the stench for at least two days of the week under my operation.

Three weeks with these new duties feels like an eternity, especially when I'm trying my best to act like the perfect seaman, keeping human as often as possible and hiding in the lookout perch instead of escaping to the skies. Reepicheep, at least, is great company. The two of us sit in the dragon figurehead on our days off and reminisce over all the adventures we shared and all the ones yet to come. He tells me stories and teaches me old Narnian songs and will watch the horizon in silence when the view across the Eastern ocean is calm and beautiful.

It's nice to have someone familiar I can be myself with. Usually, that person is Caspian or Nyssa, but with my best friend staying behind in Narnia to help Trumpkin keep things in order and the King being far too busy with his duties, I haven't had someone close on the ship. Of course, I've befriended a few of the crew members, but it's not the same when I only just met them a few months ago. I've known Reepicheep for years. And right now, it's safe to say he's the only thing keeping me sane.

Our arrival at Brenn is a relief. I spot the isle on the horizon just as the sun is setting, shouting from the figurehead lookout for the crew to hear. It gives everyone a fresh surge of energy and renewed excitement. We don't reach it for another few hours, though. And by then it's dark and the sky is lit up by the nearly full moon and constellations I've never seen before.

Carefully, we pull into Redhaven, the capital of the Seven Isles. The crew is as lively as I've ever seen them as we tie down the Dawn Treader and Drinian and Caspian seek out the harbourmaster, leaving Tavros in charge of watching the ship. No one is allowed to step foot off the deck yet, causing everyone — especially myself — to become an anxious, impatient wreck.

Finally, the two men return and announce to the crew they're free to spend the night in the city so long as they're respectful and not too loud, and that there's a nearby tavern recommended by the harbourmaster. This gets the men very excited, and they're headed off into Redhaven without a moment to spare.

"Are you going, too?" I ask Caspian, watching the enthusiastic crowd of Narnians disappear down the dock.

He snorts, shaking his head. "No. Someone must watch the ship."

I raise an eyebrow, glancing behind us at the men settling into their posts for the first night watch. "That's a terrible excuse," I tell him.

He just crosses his arms and leans against the bulwark. "A tavern is no place for a king."

I scoff at that.

"Any place in Narnia is a place for its king, sire," Reepicheep states. And since the Seven Isles are part of the Narnian Empire, his statement holds true.

I offer the mouse a nod of approval. "Well said, Reep."

"Thank you."

Caspian still looks unswayed, but I can see in his eyes he's considering it. So I give him a last push, elbowing his ribs playfully.

"Come on, Cas," I drawl. "When's the last time you took off the crown?"

He frowns, shooting me a look that says I haven't and you know that.

A knowing smile crawls across my lips. "Exactly," I say. "You need to take off your fancy long jackets and waistcoats and get out of that stateroom — get off this ship. Have fun for a night."

Reepicheep nods his agreement. "Think of it as rediscovering the Seven Isles and its culture."

Caspian looks between us, his resolve breaking with a hesitant laugh. "Alright, you've worn me down. I'll go." He meets my triumphant gaze with mocking brown eyes. "Let me take off this fancy jacket, first."

He discards the long, red coat with gold threading so he's only wearing a loose, maroon shirt and brown trousers. Not quite the average seaman but definitely less king-like.

The three of us cross the gangplank onto the wooden dock, standing upon unmoving ground for the first time in months. It causes me to stumble and my head to feel like it's swimming, but after a minute my head clears and my body seems to remember how to operate on land.

A sense of freedom washes over me, standing on soil again and beyond the deck of the Dawn Treader. It's refreshing and begs me to spread my wings, stretch my legs, explore every inch of this archipelago before we leave in a few days. When are we leaving?

I glance at Caspian. "How long before we set sail again?"

"I told the harbourmaster four days, at least. However long it takes to refill our stores and make any repairs we need." His eyes are soft. "It should be long enough to renew relationships with the governor of Brenn." And for you to continue your search.

"After that, we'll sail west to Muil for a day, then continue to the Lone Islands."

I nod my head, and Reepicheep seems to mirror my thoughts.

"A sound plan, sire," the mouse says.

A wide grin spreads across Caspian's face, and when we find the tavern the rest of the crew has disappeared to, he pushes open the heavy door and gestures us inside.

It's dark, despite being lit by dozens of oil lamps along the walls and tables, and smells of wine. The tables are occupied mostly by the crew, but among the Narnians are a number of strange men — locals or sailors stopping in port, like us. I notice Drinian speaking to a group of them in the corner, their table decorated with drink glasses. While he's busy gathering what information he can, the men are laughing and passing around ale, gambling over games of passage and nines.

The fauns, satyrs, dwarves, and minotaurs receive wide-eyed stares from everyone, and when Reepicheep leaps up to stand on the bar, the man serving drinks behind it lets his eyes bulge for a moment.

He scans me next, then Caspian. "You're from Narnia, then?" He asks.

"Yes." Caspian reaches for his coin purse. "How much for wine?"

"Seven Trees."

"We'll have two. Thank you." The king hands over the payment, settling onto a barstool beside me.

"Never had Narnians here before," the man continues, filling two glasses with sweet-smelling wine. "What brings you to Redhaven?"

"Exploration," Caspian answers vaguely. "Narnia hopes to rekindle relationships with the Seven Isles."

He sets the wine in front of us, smiling humorously like such a thing is impossible after so long. "Wouldn't that be something."

Cas's friendly smile turns tight at his words and the man leaves to attend to his other patrons.

Reepicheep does his best to reassure him. "I'm sure he's only in disbelief as it's been well over a thousand years since our last interaction with the colonies, sire."

The king nods, taking a sip of his wine. "Yes, I'm sure that's it. Should we find a game of merels to win?"

I stand from my seat with my drink in hand, grinning wickedly at him. "Absolutely."

We spend the rest of our night drinking wine over card games and laughing when Rithar loses one of his shoes in a gamble, then loses the other shoe and his coat before finally winning it all back.

I talk to the other sailors and locals in the tavern, trying to learn anything about the chimæras. make sure to keep my birthmark in full view, just in case anyone happens to recognize it. But I get nothing. Nobody has ever seen or heard of shapeshifters in the Seven Isles before. I do, however, get the name of an old, batty fellow who might know something.

"If anyone knows a thing about shapeshifters in the Isles," the carpenter tells me, "it'll be Keilin."

I feel hope flicker in my chest. "Where would I find him?"

He snorts, throwing back a swig of ale before responding. "Hard to say, miss. He's always off somewhere new and doesn't stay in one place long. Ask around the east side of the city, I'd say."

"Thank you."

The man regards me curiously, wiping away the dribble of ale in his beard. "What's got you so interested in shapeshifters anyway?"

I purse my lips hesitantly, dragging my fingers along the grains of the wooden table's surface. "Nobody knows where they are for a reason, and I have a responsibility to tell them it's passed."

He grunts thoughtfully. "That sounds important. Good luck, miss. I hope you find something."

I thank him again, feeling the extent of my exhaustion weighing me down as I stand up. Caspian returned to the ship an hour ago with Drinian, leaving about half the crew to continue with their drinking and gambling for the night. Now, I leave the light of the noisy tavern behind, making my way back to the ship and settling into my hammock for the last few hours before the sun rises.

I'm not sure what Caspian's plans for tomorrow hold, but I already know mine: Keilin.

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"Where the fuck does this old bastard live?" Rithar demands, trudging along the street beside me wearing an irritated scowl.

"He doesn't," I mutter shortly. "Apparently, he's never in one place long."

"And how is this nutter supposed to be more helpful than the governor?"

Sighing, I ignore his question and keep walking, scanning the buildings for one called The Brass Toad Inn. All morning, we've been roving the east side of the city in search of the elusive Keilin. We got lucky at one of the food markets earlier and have been following his trail since, going to taverns, inns, and more strange markets. I'm surprised to find most people know exactly who I'm looking for when I mention his name, even if they haven't seen him recently. For a batty old guy, Keilin seems to be quite sociable.

"Here." I finally spot the inn we're looking for, much to Rithar's eternal annoyance, and step inside.

The inns here are much like the taverns, filled with gamblers throwing dice and a bar offering wine and ale. I weave between the tables, walking up to the bar for the innkeeper.

The small man behind the bar looks up at us, muttering, "ale's seven Trees, wine's eight."

"Thanks," I say, "but I'm looking for someone and wondering if you could tell me whether he's passed through here or not."

The man looks unfazed, continuing to scratch numbers in a large book — likely the inn records. "Name, then?"

"Keilin."

He pauses, finally designing to look at me for longer than a second. "You lookin' for Keilin?" He says. "Why the hell for?"

"I was told he might be able to help me."

"Help from him?" He laughs incredulously, shutting the book and sending dust motes swirling up into the air. "First I've heard anyone say that. He just left here about an hour ago."

I start. "Do you know where he was headed?"

He shrugs. "Never ask. Saw him head that way out the door, if it helps." He points in the same direction we just came from down the street.

"Unbelievable," Rithar grumbles.

I smile, thanking the man before leaving the inn and hurrying back the way we came.

Rithar throws his hands out in exasperation. "What are we supposed to do now? Ask everyone on the street if they've seen this guy? We don't even know what he looks like."

I clench my jaw irritably. Caspian could've chosen anyone else to send with me but he chose him? Aslan help me. I'm going to kill them both.

"We're only an hour behind him and there's two of us looking," I point out hotly. "Shut up and start asking around."

Muttering curses, he crosses the street while I cover the other side, asking everyone I pass. Mostly, I get "sorry, I haven't seen him" or no response at all as I'm simply ignored, but sometimes I get an answer like, "I think I saw him earlier" or "he passed by a little while ago," which gives me hope. Rithar seems to be getting the same responses as I am and we hurriedly continue down the street, looking for anyone who might fit the description of a strange old man.

I must admit I feel like an idiot questioning everyone in sight, but I can't care enough to stop. I have to find him.

"Witchslayer."

My head whips around, landing on Rithar as he crosses the street toward me. "What?"

He points to a person walking along ahead of me. "That's him."

I don't waste any time. "Excuse me," I call, catching up to the man he pointed out and repeating myself when he doesn't appear to hear me. "Excuse me."

The old man turns his head, looking down at me as he draws to a stop. "Yes?"

He's wearing a large coat with patchwork fixes and a heavy leather bag across his chest, his worn boots discoloured and covered in dry mud.

I swallow my nerves. "Are you Keilin?"

He doesn't answer. Instead taking in my appearance and letting his eyes go wide after a moment. "You're a Narnian."

I nod, wondering how he noticed so quickly. "Yes."

"But it's been centuries," he mutters. "Why are you here?"

"I'm looking for something and I was told you might be able to help. Are you–?"

Slowly, the old man stoops down and picks up what I can only assume is a tiny ordinary stone from the sidewalk. He straightens, turning the grey thing between his fingers. And after a moment's inspection, he tucks it into his bag and meets my gaze expectantly. "Yes?"

"Are you Keilin?"

"Yes. And you are?"

I hold out my hand excitedly. "Arryn Witchslayer."

Keilin takes my hand, giving it a firm shake as his blue eyes fill with wonder. "And what are you Arryn Witchslayer? I know you're not human."

My red hair turns blonde, my skin lightening and taking on freckles as a demonstration. "I'm a chimæra."

He stares at me with his mouth hung open in awe. "Incredible," Keilin breathes. "And what's your companion?"

I turn to look at Rithar, standing a few feet away and listening to us. A pain in my ass, I want to say. But instead, I respond with, "human."

Keilin smiles this wild, crooked smile that makes me grin.

"What can I do for a chimæra and a human of Narnia?"

I return my features to normal and hold out my hand, palm up. "Do you know what this is?"

"The mark?" He peers down at it, shaking his head. "It looks like an 'x,' but I'd think it's much more than that."

I was expecting him to say as much, so I'm not disappointed. His next answer is what I'm really nervous about.

"Do you know if there are others like me here? Or anywhere?"

Keilin raises an eyebrow. "You are the first I've ever heard of or seen."

I can barely manage my next words. They come out in a rough whisper I'm not sure he can even hear. "What do you mean?"

The old man glances between me and Rithar, unsure how to react to my obvious distress. "To my knowledge, there are no shapeshifters in the Seven Isles," he says. "There never has been."

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author's note

hello i'm so sorry this took so long i went on a camping trip with my family last week and ever since then i've been so drained and haven't had a real chance to recharge. usually i'm dying to get my hands on my laptop to write something but this time it was weird. i didn't have any inspiration or desire to write, so this chapter might be a little strange idk i don't really like it

well i've slipped back into my teen wolf phase and i'm on my knees for my blue-eyed betas isaac and liam ugh currently fighting the urge to write a whole teen wolf fic series even tho i still haven't finished my tmnt one yikes i have issues

edmund, lucy, and eustace will make their appearance in the next chapter and my children will finally be reunited! it's going to be so damn cute i really hope i can have it out on schedule this time lmao

see y'all with chapter 42!