Simurgh sat in the inn, treating himself to a drink. For the past day or so, he had been the hero that had gotten everyone talking. He had saved the life of Icarus’ niece, fought off one of the six Oracle captains, and had even promptly hired Kestrel to join his crew. In the words of Rook, ‘there is no way you’re not creating a stir.’ And, so far, the cartographer had been correct in that regard. He had received pats on the back, toasts in his name (although many of them did not know it or had gotten it completely wrong), and a few had even volunteered to join his crew. He had rejected them.

Kestrel, following her one and only chance to join a crew, had dashed off to start preparing in a feverish panic. Even now, Simurgh could hear her scrambling about on the stairs above, searching through all of her belongings to figure out what might be necessary for a race to the end of the world.

Icarus was, as usual, serving drinks. He would occasionally cast a look at Simurgh, the emotion in it hard to identify, but would always return to serving drinks, stopping by to refill Simurgh whenever he raised his mug.

The taste of alcohol was strong in Simurgh’s mouth as he sat there, thoughts racing through his mind. Odds were, Icarus was going to kill him for his decision at some point. Whether that would be because he was putting Kestrel in danger or because he figured that Simurgh was up to something remained to be seen. Simurgh was not interested in acknowledging the third possibility for Icarus’ theoretical murder of him, and therefore did not dwell on it.

Another toast went up for him, which he halfheartedly joined. He did not have the energy to join in the words, but he raised his mug, alcohol sloshing about in it as his name, apparently the griffon hosting the cheer thought it was Mercer, went up around the patrons.

Simurgh allowed himself a sigh as he received a few more pats on the back. This was not what he had wanted the rest of the day to contain. The plan had been to kick Gareth’s ass, recruit Kestrel, and then get everything ready and take off before anyone had realized what had happened. Unfortunately for Simurgh, however, he had forgotten that it took at least a day for Aigle and Valravn to arrive at Griffonstone from Procella, so there was that plan down the drain.

He sighed and downed the remaining liquid in his mug. At this point, he was certain, a normal griffon would have been drunk past the point of no return. Seventeen refills and counting. But for him? He could stomach a few score more before he started to feel anything. He let Icarus refill his mug, not meeting his friend’s eyes as he looked downward, and then began another drink.

The smell of food began to waft around the inn, and Simurgh noted that Icarus had begun to prepare dinner for those that ordered it. He joined in the requests for a meal, his friend not bothering to give a response aside from adding some more vegetables to the pot. Simurgh’s mouth watered at the smell, but his mind was still overtaken by thoughts of the East, the Edge, and what lay beyond.

Gabriel would be a problem, should he go and tattle to Grover. That, at the moment, was the biggest fear that Simurgh felt. Grover knowing that he was in the city would ruin everything. He knew that it had been a mistake to see the king’s return, but damn it, he had wanted to. And he was a fickle creature, he knew that much. “Damn you, Simurgh,” he muttered under his breath, low enough so that no one in the inn could hear him. “Damn you for letting your curiosity get the better of you.”

When Icarus delivered his food, he ate in silence, and the inn as a whole quieted down, the smell of soup filling the air. Simurgh drank from his bowl with vigor, and it tasted heavenly in his mouth.

When the meal had finished, griffons began to make their ways to their rooms, leaving about a dozen or so in the main area of the inn. Simurgh noted that many of the ‘regulars’ had left early, likely due to a desire to leave the next day. The race was on, it seemed. And he had every intention of being the first to the end of the world.

He clenched his mutilated talon for a second, the stumps on it a stern reminder to him what happened if your resolve broke. He had lost that bet, years ago, for breaking under pressure. It would never happen again. Not on his watch. He saw Kestrel coming down the stairs, and the stumps seemed to feel as if they were being cut apart once more. It had been a clean cut, he knew that much, but it still burned as if all Tartarus had had a hand int it.

He watched as Kestrel went over to her uncle, her words lost to his ears, drowned out by his thoughts. But her meaning was clear, and he allowed himself a slight smile as he watched her. Thirty years ago, he had been much like her. Young, eager, enthusiastic.

He grinned slightly as Kestrel went back upstairs, Icarus having answered her question. Icarus walked over to Simurgh after she had left, a grimace on his face. “She was asking whether or not she expected for us to encounter any pirates. And whether or not we’d be allowed to leave our compass behind.”

Simurgh’s grin widened. Thirty-five years he had been in the business, but he had never changed his view on how to sail. Go where the wind and your heart took you. Seemed Kestrel was in the same vein. “What’d you tell her?” He took a swig from his mug, the alcohol tasting sweeter than it had before. Kestrel had been a good pick.

“That the pirates were practically guaranteed,” Icarus muttered under his breath. “And that the compass would not be ‘left behind’, but that you’d certainly toss it over the side somewhere in the middle of the voyage.”

“It was an accident,” Simurgh said, his words becoming a chuckle in the middle. “I had no actual intention of letting go of it.”

Icarus sighed and pulled a rag out from under the bar, wiping down the tables with a vigor that might have been due to Simurgh’s response. “I expect you to keep her safe,” he whispered, wiping away alcohol that had begun to stick the table.

Simurgh gave his friend a smile. “Do you trust me?”

Icarus gave his friend a look that might have been annoyed, but might have also been amused. “Is that rhetorical, or do you actually want a response to that?”

Simurgh chuckled, but he didn’t say anything for a second. As he sat there, a few more of those in the bar cleared off, heading upstairs to rooms. Around half a dozen sat in the bar, and the sun was beginning to set off in the west. Finally, Simurgh answered in a voice so quiet that Icarus would not have heard were he not standing right in front of the griffon. “I promise you this much: I swear to not repeat my past mistakes. Not the big ones, anyway.”

Icarus nodded and returned to his mopping of the table and floors, turning away from Simurgh and refocusing on his work. Simurgh allowed himself a slight smile. It seemed that, despite all the things they had gone through, Icarus was still with him, at least for now.

He made his way out of the bar, leaving a small pile of coins by his drink, and headed up the stairs towards the room that Icarus had lodged him in. He heard the thumping of Kestrel searching through her room, and he allowed himself another smile. He walked past it and opened the door to his room, the small room greeting him. He made his way towards the window, opening it with a creak.

He looked out over Griffonstone, the quiet city greeting him. He could make out the docks, where a handful of ships were still being worked on, and the silent form of the Tree, its branches rising high into the sky. He felt a wince of pain as he saw a few couples walking about the streets or chatting by the tree. “You paid for catering,” Icarus said, grinning.

“Bloody did not,” Simurgh muttered, grinning as he did so. He took the plate of food all the same. “Why’d you come up?”

Icarus shrugged. “I figured you might want someone to chat to.” He walked into Simurgh’s room and made his way to the window, Simurgh dropping down on his cot and digging into the food. “So, what was bothering you?” Icarus didn’t bother saying it towards Icarus, instead looking out the window that Simurgh had stared out of a minute ago.

Simurgh gave his friend a mild grimace. “You think this is actually a good idea?” He waved a talon at the room as a whole, his meaning clear. “All of… this?”

Icarus let out a slight sigh. “I’d be lying if I said that I think this is a good idea. If anything, I think this is a terrible idea.”

Simurgh nearly choked on his food. He coughed for a moment, but when he finally cleared his windpipe he grinned. “Figured you’d say that. How about a better question. You think it’s a bad idea because of the events going on now, or what happened last time?”

Icarus gave his friend a mild glare. “What kind of question is that?” He ran a talon through his feathers, a sigh escaping his mouth. It took Simurgh a moment to notice the gray in his friends feathers, a detail he had not noticed until this evening. Icarus’ grimace worsened. “If you think that I still regret our previous voyage? Yes, I still regret that.”

Simurgh gave his friend a sad nod, but he then shook his head. “I know you regret it. But do you still…” he swallowed. “Do you still blame me for what happened?” It came out as a whisper, but he swallowed and his words grew bolder. “How much do you still regret my actions?”

Icarus let out a long sigh. “Simurgh… that’s something I’ve tried not to contemplate for the past nineteen years. Now’s not the time to try and ask me about it.”

There was the sound of Simurgh setting down his plate, although he might have dropped it for the noise it made. “Icarus, you and your niece are rejoining the crew. I need to know how much you’re willing to follow me, and how much you blame me for that night. If I don’t know, then how ca-”

“It was nineteen years ago,” Icarus snapped, cutting Simurgh off. “What’s done is done, I do not have the time or energy to argue about a night that happened nineteen years ago. I lost friends that night, yes. And yes, I’d be lying if I said that I don’t entirely blame you for what happened. But I don’t care right now.

“Right now, my focus is my family. If that means jumping on a ship with you to the end of the world, then fine, I’m coming.” He let out a breath of air that sounded like it had been held in for far too long. “But don’t try and probe me for how I feel about that night. This is not the time to be asking me that.”

Simurgh raised his talons in an apologetic gesture. “Point taken.” He sighed and sat down on his bed, leaning back so that his head rested on the mat. “Icarus, I hope you know I never planned for that to happen.”

Simurgh couldn’t see him, but he could imagine Icarus’ sad look grow even sadder as he spoke. “I know. But that doesn’t mean I don’t think you weren’t to blame. You were our captain, Simurgh, dammit. You don’t-”

“I get it,” Simurgh growled, rolling over on his cot. “But I swear to you now: Kestrel will not come to harm under my captainship. I will keep her safe, and I will do that, no matter what it takes. Is that enough for you?”

Icarus stepped away from the window, his talons and paws clicking against the wooden floor. Before he could leave, however, Simurgh’s words stopped him. “They’ll be here tomorrow.”

Icarus’ reply was a sigh. “You really mean it, then. Who’s actually coming?”

“Everyone but Osprey,” Simurgh said with a sigh. “She died a few years back.”

Icarus turned around and walked back towards Simurgh, his eyes wide. “Simurgh…”

Simurgh shrugged, removing his plate from the floor and handing it to Icarus. “We lost contact about twelve, fourteen years ago, shortly before this whole Oracle mess started. She hooked up with a captain, I don’t know what happened to her after that.”

He could hear Icarus nod. “I guess we’ll talk tomorrow.”

Simurgh allowed himself a large grin. “We’ll sail, tomorrow, Icarus. One last time. Together. It’ll be the greatest race of our lives.”

Icarus sighed from the doorway. “You do realize that’s not why I’m coming, right? Let it go.”

“We’ll finally be fulfilling Gemma’s memory.”

Icarus turned to go, not responding this time. He left Simurgh in the room, the window still open. The sound of wind and hooting owls filled the night, making Simurgh smile slightly. He might have gone too far with that comment. But he would be able to do what he had always desire to do. Complete Gemma’s desires. Perhaps that would be enough for Icarus. That, and Kestrel’s safety. You never knew.

He heard the sound of rain on floorboards, followed by a voice. “I can see why you want him on the crew.” The voice was soft, almost gentle, but it had an aura of power to it. “They’re on their way, as promised.”

“Figured as much,” Simurgh murmured, closing his eyes. He didn’t bother looking at the speaker, instead letting his voice just carry in the darkness. “You think this will all be worth it? The end of the world isn’t some wild hoax?”

The sound of raindrops was all he heard for a second, followed by the voice speaking once again. “Why would I lie about it?” There was the sound of water droplets on the cot as well, almost as if there was a miniature storm inside the room. “The Edge, the End, the Wall, call it what you will, exists, yes. That is where we’re headed. How we get there is up to you.”

Simurgh sighed. “I don’t know if I like this. If it didn’t work-”

“The past,” the voice growled, “is not a perfect indicator of the future. Remember that. We will win this time. No matter what it takes.” It sounded not unlike the figure was pacing, with the sound of pattering compounded like the walking of a thousand tiny legs. “I assume you are prepared to give as much as I am?”

Simurgh allowed himself a slight chuckle. “I was before, wasn’t I?” He rolled over on his bed, his eye still tightly shut. “Now let me get some shut eye, you lunatic. I’ll need to be rested before tomorrow.”

The voice came out as a laugh this time around. “Given that I alerted them early this morning, back when you retrieved that map, yes. I think we will need to be ready when tomorrow rolls around.”

There was the rush of wind, and Simurgh could hear the sound of the window slamming shut. He sighed and massaged his temple for a moment, thinking to himself. It was time for one last journey, of that he was certain. He was just glad that he had Icarus with him this time around.

It was early in the morning. Several ships had left already, bound for the east, and The Bounty was already on its final days of repair. Following her joining of its crew, Cetan had begun to finish repairs on the ship, something that many captains had already ordered, and which she, along with the other shipwrights, had been happy to oblige. It paid well and it wasn’t exactly the most painful job in the world, so they had finished repairs on half a dozen ships weeks or even months before they had been ready to be finished.

Cetan wiped her brow with a talon, her eyes surveying the new mast for The Bounty. It had taken her, along with a handful of others, several straight hours of work to finish. Runes now coated the mast, running up and down with an almost friendly glow to them. They were green for the most part, a decision that Cetan was grateful for. While blue ink was generally better for stronger runes, it tended to lead to tricky situations when dealing with repairing or replacing wood on them. Thankfully, given that The Bounty was utilizing primarily green runes, it hadn’t been much of a stretch to convince Peregrine of the decision.

Peregrine, at the moment, stood by her and her crew, watching intently. His green feathers were disheveled, and Cetan was certain she could spot bags under his eyes. All the same, there was a glint of pride in his eyes as he watched the griffons repair his ship. “You work fast,” he commented, his eyes watching as Cetan’s workers began to move the mast into the air, pulling on the ropes from above and below with a grimace.

Cetan grimaced as the mast began to creak, rising into the air as over a hundred griffons began to lift. “I managed to get a few favors from various griffons. For today, they’re helping me get the mast in place.”

Peregrine nodded as the mast began to creak into place, his grin growing as he watched. “So, you think you’ll be ready to sail soon?”

Cetan glanced at him. “If you give me a day or two, certainly.” She paused to shout some orders to those moving the massive mast, the creaking making both her and Peregrine wince. When the creaking had stopped and the mast seemed stable once more, she returned to speaking with Peregrine. “We’ve got a handful of ships left to look at. Aside from those, however, there’s nothing else on my slate. They’re all minor jobs, such as fixing a floorboard or just doing a routine check up.”

Peregrine nodded slightly, watching the mast with interest. “So, how’d your sister take it? Hope she wasn’t too upset?”

Cetan looked away from the mast for a second, giving him a grin. “You kidding? She got hired less than an hour later by some random fellow. Couldn’t be happier, last I saw her. Seems she’s joining in this wild race, same as everyone else.” She paused to shout some orders to the lifters once more, forcing the griffons to spin round to the other side of the mast to stabilize it. Her next words came out slightly slower, as a frown began to grace her features. "Can't say I agree with her captain, but it's not like I can exactly force her."

The dance continued for some time, Cetan making adjustments as those lifting the mast carried it. Peregrine did not watch, however, instead glancing at the tree, where Cetan knew her father was, with a look of mild confusion on his face. The mast eventually creaked into place in The Bounty, the runes on its rim glowing brightly as it fit snugly into the whole. Almost immediately, the griffons in the vicinity, at least those not paid by the hour, dashed off, their work finished.

Cetan grinned and turned back to Peregrine, but frowned when she saw his face. “What’s wrong?”

Peregrine looked as if he was struggling to recall some detail that eluded him. His eyes were looking upward, and the side of his mouth was drawn into a somewhat tight frown. “You sister got hired? By whom?”

Cetan shrugged as she brushed herself off with her wings. “No idea. Some oily fellow named Simurgh. An old friend of my uncle’s, apparently, and my father, although that seems to have changed from the looks of things. All I know is that he saved her life yesterday and that my father punched him shortly afterwards.”

Peregrine’s look of confusion was identical to how she felt. "I thought that your father claimed that Kestrel wasn’t going to join any crews?”

Cetan gave him an odd look before shaking her head. "Never heard of that. Look, the ship’s fixed. Going to give it a once over to make sure that it’s okay?”

“Once over?” Peregrine chuckled, his previous thoughts clearly forgotten. “I’ll be giving her a triple over, if need be.” He gave her a pat on the back as he passed. “Not that I don’t trust your judgement-- I just prefer to see her with my own eyes.” Cetan nodded and Peregrine walked off to the the ship. Cetan allowed herself a grin as she saw him take in a long breath of air as he stepped aboard.

Cetan, meanwhile, was stopped by Simurgh, who walked by her with a whistle. She frowned as he passed, and before he could vanish, she stopped him. “Simurgh.”

Simurgh turned to glance at her, raising an eyebrow. “Hm?” Cetan noticed that he seemed surprisingly cheerful, even more so than his usual nonchalant attitude. He gave her a wide grin. “How can I help you today, o’ master shipbuilder?” He allowed himself a bow as she looked him over.

“Where were you before you came back here?” The question had been bugging Cetan for hours, but she figured now as good as ever to get an answer from the griffon.

Simurgh seemed to feign ignorance for a second. “Moi?” His ignorance didn’t last long, however, switching to a wild grin within seconds. “You mean before I got back to Griffonstone?” Cetan nodded, and he continued. “For starters, I drifted a lot. Visited towns all over the place. You ever been to the Peacocks?”

Cetan raised a talon to forestall him. “Look, you going to give me the nineteen year version or the short and simple version?”

Simurgh let out a sigh. “As I said, I drifted. A whole damn lot. I visited anywhere I could. I almost ran in into Grover once, actually, during my travels. You see a lot when you get around.”

Cetan raised an eyebrow and she began walking, motioning for Simurgh to follow. He did so, grinning from ear to ear. Her sister was clearly in good hands. Cetan led the slender griffon into the main compound of the docks, taking a seat behind her desk.

She sighed, brushing wooden shavings off of her desk. She needed to find a better place to set her notes. She motioned for Simurgh to pull up a chair, which he refused to do, choosing instead to seat himself on a pile of timbers that sat in the corner. He grinned, taking in the variety of woods and materials that were housed in the building. “You work here?”

“Worked,” Cetan muttered. “Peregrine hired me.”

Simurgh, for what it was worth, clapped his talons together. “Congratulations. Seems that Icarus’ relatives do tend to stick to the same profession decisions.” He looked around the building for a moment, surveying the forty foot roof from which many a dismantled ship hung. “You could trap a dragon in here,” he commented, grinning slightly. “You ever see one live before?”

Cetan snorted, leaning back in her chair with a grimace. “No, nor do I ever plan to.” She pressed a talon against her temple. “Like I said before, what’d you do before you got here?”

“I thought I already answer-”

Cetan raised an eyebrow. “Where’d you meet Grover?”

Simurgh allowed himself a chuckle, and to Cetan it seemed as if he was mocking her. “I never said I met him. I was, however, in Maelstrom when he met Iris, and boy was that a story worth hearing.” He gave her a conspiratorial wink. “Oh, the things I could tell you about that king.”

“I’m not asking about you for what you know about Grover,” Cetan snapped, her irritation getting the better of her. “I’m asking what you were doing before you decided to recruit my sister. I still don’t know what it is you want her on your crew for.”

Simurgh leaned back on the pile of timbers, his back resting against the wall. He waved a talon in a wide arc, as if he were a salesman giving a pitch. “Look, your sister has the enthusiasm I look for in my crew members. Is that not enough for you?”

“Is it nepotism or something?”

Simurgh snorted at her suggestion. “First off,” he said, a grin still on his somewhat shadowed face, “I’m not related to her in any way. Second, that’s more likely to be on Icarus’ end. Third, no, it’s not nepotism if I have a legitimate reason for hiring her.”

“Which is?” Cetan leaned forward in her chair, her eyes watching him like a hawk.

“Damn,” Simurgh muttered under his breath. “And I thought that Oracles didn’t let up.” He gave her a grin, although it seemed significantly less excited this time around. “Look, I’m not out to harm your sister. I already had this chat with your uncle less than twenty-four hours ago. Is that enough for you?”

Cetan threw back her head and laughed. “You’re insane. My father certainly doesn’t trust you, and if your word isn’t enough for him, why should it be enough for me?”

Simurgh grinned, and for the first time, Cetan noticed an almost macabre glint in his eyes. “Because your father’s a paranoid git? Seems to be his approach to everything: made a mistake once? Whelp, let’s villainize him.”

“What are you talking about?” Cetan narrowed her eyes, a sudden wariness in her voice that surprised even her.

Simurgh stepped down from the pile of timbers, actually picking one up one of the smaller pieces as he stood. He fingered it gingerly for a second, then, with a sudden swiftness and strength that should not have been feasible with a mutilated talon, he crushed the end of the timber. It shattered, the plank splintering at a set of horrific angles.

“Did not mean for that,” Simurgh muttered, tapping the almost flattened edge of the wood with one of his few remaining digits. “I’ll need to watch myself around that stuff.” He sighed and dropped it. “Look, your father hates me. That enough for you?”

Cetan’s voice came out somewhat weak. “That was… Everfree wood,” she whispered.

Simurgh glanced at it, raising an eyebrow. “It expensive or something? Look, I’ll pay you back. Didn’t mean to break it. I’ll certainly be more careful when I’m back on my ship.”

Cetan glanced from the cracked wood to the captain. “Have you been listening? That was Everfree Wood. Stuffs hard as iron…”

“Must have been faulty,” Simurgh commented. From somewhere under his feathers, he removed a small coin pouch. He reached into it and tossed about a dozen coins onto the table. “That enough?”

Cetan glanced once more from the wood to Simurgh. “For that? Probably a little more, but-”

There was a thud as the entirety of the coin purse landed in front of her. “Just keep it,” Simurgh muttered. “Look, Cetan, I’m sorry we got off to the wrong paw. If it makes you feel any better, your uncle will be watching Kestrel for the entire voyage. Anything asinine that you think I could do? He kept me in check for about fifteen years. I think we’ll be fine.”

“You in it for the glory?” Cetan muttered, doing her best to avoid touching, or looking at, the coin purse. "The race, I mean."

Simurgh shrugged. “I can’t say the thought has never crossed my mind. But, honestly?” He let out a slight sigh, looking back towards the door before continuing. “It’s mostly for a chance to fulfill a promise.”

Cetan swallowed. “What promise, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Simurgh chuckled, but it was sadder than his usual attitude, making Cetan’s stomach broil with worry. “A long time ago,” he began, making his way back towards the pile of timbers. He stepped over the broken piece of Everfree with a grimace, but he sat on the pile once more. “There was a griffon named Gemma. Beautiful, smart, a wonder with words, everything you could ask for in a griffon.”

Cetan frowned. “Did she sail with you, because Icarus never me-”

“I’m getting to that part,” Simurgh murmured. “There were four of us who originally got the sailing in our team started, thirty-five years ago. Me, your uncle, your father, and her. Your mother was somewhere in there as well, but it was truly the four of us who got everything started for real.

“Suffice to say, we were thick as thieves. On some occasions, we were the thieves.” He grinned. “I’d be lying if I said that I never truly had feelings for Gemma, but it was your uncle who had the true love for her, as some might say.”

“No one says that.” Cetan’s voice was hoarse. She was uncertain whether or not she wanted to ask her questions, or wait till the end. But they were there, pounding through her head, and she was certain that she wouldn’t like all of the answers.

Simurgh shrugged. “Fair enough.” From his position on the timbers, he almost reminded Cetan of a drunkard, telling his story for another drink on the house. His talons were moving through the air, making wild gestures, while his paws sat crossed and planted on the wood. “I always assumed the pair of them would ‘get it on’, as they say. Eventually, Gemma did actually end up…” Simurgh swallowed, as if this part was particularly painful for him. “Anyway, there was a storm.” His words were coming out faster now, much faster. “It started, and I was certain there was no way back to any city without sinking us. She died.”

He sat there for a second longer, the abrupt ending to his story sort of hanging in the air like fog. Simurgh looked pained, as if even giving that version of the tale brought great suffering upon him. Cetan frowned. “Is that… all?”

Simurgh nodded, his expression pained. “That’s all of it.”

“How’d she die, exactly?”

Simurgh glared at her. “I'd rather not get into the details, if that's all the same to you.” He ran a talon through his feathers, brushing them back in an almost windswept style. “Look, Cetan, I feel like we got off to the wrong-ish paw. Look, I worked with your father for fifteen years. That incident,” Cetan could hear a world of bitterness in his words as he continued, “is the reason we decided to split in the first place. You father resents that fact. Your uncle, at the very least seems a little forgiving.”

Cetan raised an eyebrow, pausing look at her ledger slightly. “So, Icarus is the one who you seem to have hurt, yet it’s my father that hates you?”

Simurgh nodded. “That is correct. Embarrassing, and definitely odd, but true all the same.” Cetan noticed that he cast a nervous look back to the shattered piece of wood on the ground. Simurgh allowed himself a slight sigh. “I have no interest in getting your sister harmed. I’ve made mistakes like that in the past, so I have zero desire to repeat those mistakes of mine. That enough for you?”

Cetan shook her head, drawing a rueful grin from the griffon. “Makes sense,” Simurgh chuckled. He stepped towards the door of the building, rolling his eyes slightly. “My ship should be here later today, if you have any desire to stop me from getting this thing started.”

Cetan shook her head another time. “That’s not up to me, as unfortunate as it is. I’ve got no chance of persuading her otherwise.” She gave him a mild smirk. “My father, on the other hand? He could-”

Simurgh raised an eyebrow, a smirk of his own growing on his face. “Stop me? I’ve never let him do it before? I doubt he’ll be able to do it this time.”

Cetan gave a sigh in reply. “Keep her safer than you did Gemma, whoever she was.”

“I already tol-” Simurgh’s reply was fierce, filled with frustration. He removed his talon from the door, turning back to face her with a sudden grimace on his face. He clenched his mutilated talon, and for a moment Cetan flinched. Simurgh let out a sigh, his tone becoming a bit calmer. “I’ve already told you who she was and how she died.”

“And that’s clearly not enough,” Cetan growled, her words harder than she expected. “I have a million questions for you, but you’re not going to answer a single damn one, are you?”

“Stormlord, girl,” Simurgh snapped, letting out a sigh as he continued. “I already gave you the whole reason why none of your bloody relatives trust me. Isn’t that an ‘answer’? Or do you need a three hundred page biography of who Gemma was?” His glare was stormy, a sudden shift from his sad tone earlier. “I already swore to your uncle that I’d keep Kestrel safe, what more do yo-”

“She’s my damn sister!” Cetan snapped, leaning so far forward that she was prepared to leap at the griffon. “I want to her be safe! What don’t you get about that?”

Simurgh opened his mouth to reply, but the swinging of the door stopped him from continuing, not least because he received the door right into his face. Icarus, his eyes wide, came into the building, apparently oblivious to the fact that he had hit Simurgh in the face. Icarus gave Cetan a nervous look. “You seen Peregrine?”

Cetan raised an eyebrow. “I just fixed his ship ten minutes ago. Yes, I’ve seen him. Why?” She refused to acknowledge Simurgh, who sat to one side, massaging his beak, instead focusing all her attention on her uncle. She could feel her heart stopping for a second, dread creeping into her chest.

Icarus glanced at the door, apparently finally realizing that it had hit something, and then let off a tiny gasp when he saw the wincing Simurgh. “Simurgh, what are you…” He shook his head. “It’s not important. The Vagabond is on the horizon, and Gabriel came into my inn a minute ago yelling something about how Peregrine had just told him something about Kestrel. You know anything?”

Simurgh raised an eyebrow. “Well, I guess that’s our cue to leave. Icarus are your things packed?”

Cetan allowed herself a moment of doubt once more at Simurgh’s comments. He was worried, she could tell that much. “What did father want?” Her words came out more terrified than she had expected. Apparently Simurgh was good at planting fears in her head.

Icarus grimaced. “I have no idea,” he murmured, raising a talon to forestall Simurgh before he could interject. “He said something about Kestrel, but aside from that, when I said she wasn’t there, he dashed off. You got any ideas?”

“Peregrine mentioned that father mentioned…” Cetan trailed off, which apparently spurred Simurgh into action.

“Time to skedaddle,” he muttered, scooting his way around the door that was still stuck in his path. “Guess that means Aigle’s here, with the rest of the crew, no less.” He gave Icarus a grin, making Cetan want to strangle him, given their recent conversation. Simurgh patted Icarus on the back. “Let’s grab Kestrel and get on board the ship.”

Icarus didn’t move from his spot, making Simurgh grimace. “Simurgh,” Icarus began, his voice surprisingly cool. “What might Gabriel meant by wanting to find Kestrel? Something that Peregrine told him?”

“Why do you think that I know a damn thing?” Simurgh snapped.

Cetan made her way around her desk towards her uncle. “You think that Kestrel might be at the docks?” She said before her uncle could speak. “She’s there every other day, why not now?” She grimaced and nodded at Simurgh. “Especially given him and his ship.”

“My ship as well,” Icarus murmured, holding the door open for Cetan. She shoved Simurgh aside as she exited, and Icarus seemed no more cheerful towards the oily griffon. Simurgh raised an eyebrow as they passed, but neither of them spared him a glance. “You think she’s waiting for the ship?” Icarus continued, grimacing as he followed his niece. The two of them quickened their pace as they talked, forcing Simurgh to jog to keep up.

“How would she know the ship?” Cetan snapped, shooting daggers at Simurgh as she dashed. “It’s just another ship to her, isn’t it?”

Icarus grimaced and shook his head. “You don’t ‘miss’ The Vagabond. We were a pair of idiots back in the day. Your father, Simurgh and I painted her with a set of sails that had a massive eye on it. Really, really stupid of us.”

Cetan, her voice coming out in pants, raised an eyebrow. “Why would you all do that?”

“Peacocks.” Simurgh’s words came out unasked and unbidden, but they gave him a grateful nod all the same. “They’re an empire off in the east. Nasty lot. Their emperors and empresses, however, have been known for their eyelike patterns on their feathers. We thought it was the coolest damn thing.”

“You ever get those changed?” Icarus’ words came out as they rounded a corner towards the docks, where they could make out the last few ships that had yet to leave the city. Only three or four remained, the majority of them even going through the final preparations before setting sail. In the distance, however, they saw the answer to Icarus’ question.

A sleek, almost cheery looking ship could be made out less than three hundred feet from where they stood. The sails were, as Icarus had described, triangular pieces of cloth, which had a massive, blue eye drawn on them. The eye itself was crooked, like the one who had drawn it had done so while drunk.

About a score of griffons could be seen milling about the deck of the ship, and Cetan noticed that her uncle’s worry, while still present, seemed to have lightened as an almost surprised grin spread across his face. “That’s all of them,” he whispered, almost absendmindedly. “You weren’t lying.”

Simurgh allowed himself a satisfied nod. Cetan muttered a curse. “Where’s Kestrel, you idiots?” She felt her words becoming more panicked by the second, as the thoughts of why her father sought Kestrel began spinning through her head. “If dad wants Kestrel, who knows what he’s worried about?” She swallowed. “If the Oracles are ba-”

“Calm down,” Simurgh said, allowing himself a slight chuckle as he nodded to a nearby roof. Kestrel sat up there, back legs dangling into the air as she watched the ship. “Seems that zero Oracles have returned to the city so far. You fears, at least now, have been unfounded.”

Cetan allowed herself a panicked laugh, relief evident in her voice. “So why did dad…”

Simurgh shrugged. “Gabriel does what Gabriel wants. There’s a reason he wasn’t first mate.”

Icarus snorted, but when he spoke there was just as much relief in his voice as there was in Cetan’s. “Shush. He helps run the war with the Oracles for a reason.”

Simurgh gave him a grin. “I’ll be honest, the Oracles have been fairly obvious in keeping away from anything Gabriel’s got his hands on. I may give him flack, but you’ve got me there.”

The pair turned their attention back to Kestrel. It was Cetan, however, who spoke first. “Kestrel, dad’s looking for you!”

Kestrel looked down at her sister, raising an eyebrow. “Why does he want me?”

Cetan was about to speak, but she frowned as she noticed the small necklace hanging around her sister’s neck. “I don’t know,” Cetan said, her voice more nervous than she had intended, “but could you come down?”

Kestrel shrugged and leapt from the roof to where Icarus and Simurgh stood, her feathers becoming disheveled as she landed. “That the ship?” She said to the two of them, a wide grin spreading across her face. She nodded towards what the other three now identified as The Vagabond. Icarus nodded and Kestrel’s grin widened. “We taking off, then?”

Simurgh opened his mouth, but Icarus cut him off. “I want to speak with your dad first, see why he wanted you.”

Simurgh winced slightly, something that Cetan noted but made no comment on. Her opinion of the griffon was rapidly dropping as the day went on. Simurgh ran a talon through his feathers, a grimace growing on his face. “Anyone got any ideas as to where Gabriel is? Or does it really matter at this point?”

None of the four made any comment, instead focusing on the approaching ship. Cetan could make out a grinning, silver feathered griffon at the helm. From the way she held her eyes, Cetan assumed that the griffon could likely be Simurgh’s sister.

“Aigle hasn’t changed a bit,” Icarus muttered under his breath, apparently looking at the same griffon as Cetan. He glanced at Simurgh. “You have the fountain of youth or something stowed away in that ship?”

Simurgh grinned and waggled his talons in what was likely meant to be a spooky manner. “Not currently, to my knowledge. Right now, we’ve mostly got a handful of coins and the odd trinket. Nothing that spectacular, at least not now.”

“If you had come to me with that quest,” Icarus chuckled, raising a grey-feathered wing, I would have joined up long ago.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Simurgh chuckled. He paused to glance at Kestrel. “You got your things? I’d like to leave as soon as possible.”

Kestrel’s mouth formed and ‘o’, and she dashed off. Cetan swore under her breath, dashing off after her sister. As she followed a speeding Kestrel, she could hear the chuckling voice of Simurgh and his "What?" as they left the older two behind.

The two of them made their way to their uncle’s inn, Kestrel taking the lead as a panting Cetan followed. They arrived after a few minutes of sprinting, Cetan having to stop at the doorway and begin panting.

Kestrel sped her way into the inn, leaving Cetan to pant at the doorway. Rook approached her, a mild grin on his face. “So, Kestrel’s taking off, from what I can gather?” The cartographer tipped his hat to her slightly, and it was evident that he was trying not to laugh. “Seems like she’s left you behind.”

Cetan rolled her eyes as she took in massive gulps of air. “Tell me about it. Turns out you can get hired four years younger without any experience, so long as you get attacked by an Oracle.” She mentally allowed herself an image of Simurgh getting kicked off a cliff for his meddling, but it soon faded as Rook spoke.

“So, you taking off with Peregrine?”

“Day or two,” Cetan muttered, rolling her eyes. “Still got to handle another ship or two.”

Rook nodded, an absent look on his face. “Quite the time to be hired, isn’t it?”

“Once again,” Cetan sighed, “you can tell me all about it. Quite a mess, all things considered.” She gestured at Rook with a talon. “You going to be involved in the race?”

Rook snorted. “Me? You want me to have a chance at the greatest power the world’s ever seen? No thank you. Now’s a good time to take an extended vacation, honestly. This is the least hospitable time to go and try exploring.” He let out a sigh. “No, I think me and the crew are going to go visit a place we’ve wanted to see for a while. Maybe visit the princess in Equestria.”

“Stormlord help us all,” Cetan muttered under her breath. Louder, she said, “At least you’ve got a clear idea of where you and your crew are headed. Me, I don’t know where anyone’s headed.”

“‘Tis a problem with sailing,” Rook chuckled. He pushed his hat a little bit further up his head, away from his eyes. “If I’m to be honest, half the time I don’t know where I’m headed.”

“Everyone knows that,” Cetan murmured. There was a thudding of paws and talons on wood as Kestrel came charging back down the stairs, a bag slung over her shoulder. It was about the size of her head, and it clanked and rattled as it shook. “You got everything?”

Kestrel let out a sigh. “Sadly, no. I don’t know what I’ll need, so I tried to bring as much as possible for the job, but I ran out of room somewhere near the fourth book.” She paused to give Rook a grin. “Rook, good day.”

“Same to you,” Rook chuckled. “Mind if I walk you two to wherever your ship is?”

Cetan nodded. “Would appreciate that.”

The three of them made their way back to the docks, Kestrel taking the lead while Cetan and Rook chatted. It was mostly small talk, with the two of them discussing various ship designs and runic functions, but it was an enjoyable conversation nonetheless.

When they arrived at the dock, however, all thoughts of ship models and runes faded from their minds. Gabriel stood at the edge of the harbor, near the now docked Vagabond, by which he was locked in some kind of argument with Simurgh and Icarus.

“Simurgh, damn you,” Gabriel was shouting, his voice carrying through the harbor. “What the hell are you thinking? She’s my daughter!”

Simurgh let out a snort, but whatever his response was did not carry nearly as well as their father’s, and it was lost to Cetan’s ears as her father continued to shout. “Listen to me,” Gabriel snarled, stepping up close to Simurgh and grabbing him by the feathers on his neck. “I don’t care what you’ve been doing for the past twenty years. I don’t give a damn about how you’ve changed. You’re a risk-taker, and that will never change.”

Simurgh did something, Cetan was unable to determine what, exactly, but Gabriel winced and let go of the oily griffon’s neck. Simurgh’s reply was quiet, but at this point they were close enough to the argument, to make out a fair bit of it. “Doesn’t matter what you think,” Simurgh was saying, his voice bitter. “You’re too busy dealing with the damn Oracles to focus on-”

Gabriel attempted to punch Simurgh, making Kestrel let out a panicked gasp. To Cetan’s shock, and that of Kestrel, who looked ready to scream, Simurgh’s talon went up, catching Gabriel’s punch with a speed that did not seem possible. “Simurgh,” Gabriel hissed, and Cetan was certain that he was ready to kill, given the anger she saw in his eyes, “you will not finish that sentence. Don’t you dare. If you want to keep your tongue, I would advise you to hold it.”

Icarus stepped forward, separating the two combatants. “Enough,” he whispered, his eyes sad. “We don’t have time for this.” He gestured to where Cetan, Rook and Kestrel stood. “She’s ready to leave.”

Gabriel muttered a curse under his breath, and Cetan could feel her heart beating in her chest. “Icarus, I told you to keep her out of this mess. I thought we agree-”

“An Oracle wants her dead,” Icarus muttered, nodding to Kestrel. “I don’t know why, but dammit, Gabriel, if they came into Griffonstone looking for her, they’ll come anywhere.”

“And I’m-”

“Sailing with Grover,” Icarus hissed. He waved at Kestrel, who looked ready to cry. “Simurgh will keep her safe, and I promise you that I’ll die before I let harm come to Kestrel. But you cannot think that bringing Kestrel onto Grover’s ship is a good idea.”

“She’d be here with Shikra.”

Simurgh threw back his head and laughed, and Cetan noticed Rook slinking conspiratorially into an alley elsewhere, clearly unwilling to get involved in this argument. “You must be joking. You think she can keep Kestrel safe from Gareth?” Cetan didn't see it, but she could feel Kestrel pressing close to her. She thought she could feel the beating of her sister's heart as the argument went on before them.

“Theoretically,” Gabriel muttered.

“What about Gale?”

“Gale wouldn’t-”

There was the sound of Gabriel’s back hitting the pavement with a thud. Simurgh had punched him so hard that he had been knocked off his feet. “You see that?” Simurgh hissed. “I can overpower you. Have you ever talked to a member of the Oracle Six, face to face? No. You haven’t. But I have. And I promise you, they’ll be coming for Kestrel, one way or another. You want her alive, I’m your best bet.”

Kestrel ran up to them, her face pale. “Stop!” Her voice shook, but there was a fierce determination in her eyes.

Icarus glanced at Kestrel, a worried look on his face. “Kestrel…”

“What’s going on?” Kestrel whispered. “Why are you fighting? I was just going to get my stuff-”

Gabriel pushed himself off the ground, glaring at Simurgh. “This bastard seems to have forgotten that I forbade you from joining a ship.” He glared at Kestrel as well. “And you forgot it as well, it seems.”

Kestrel shrugged, but there was a hint of fear in the action. “He offered to take me on. And he knows why the Oracles are after me. I saw him defeat Gareth, dad. You think that anyone in Griffonstone can say the same?”

Gabriel’s eyes were wide as he looked to Simurgh. He mouthed something to Simurgh, but Cetan was unable to figure out what the words were, but whatever it was it made Simurgh shrug. Gabriel then looked at Kestrel. “Is this even about the Oracles at this point?”

Kestrel’s face fell, terror beginning to flare up in her eyes as she gave him a pleading look. “This is my chance to join a crew. Please.”

Gabriel glanced from his daughter, the incredulous look on his face growing, to the mild grin on Simurgh’s face. He made his way to Simurgh, his eyes cold. “If you get her killed, I’ll have you hunted down for eternity.”

Simurgh patted Gabriel on the back. “It won’t happen. But if need be, I’m willing to bet you wouldn’t have to search for that long.”

Gabriel let out a long sigh, glancing from the terrified look on his daughter’s face, both of their faces, to Simurgh, whose expression was still a mischievous grin. Gabriel massaged the spot on his chest where Simurgh had punched him. “What have you done?” Gabriel murmured, his words coming out slow and catching in his throat.

Simurgh raised an eyebrow. “You still think I’m going to answer that?” He allowed himself a bitter shake of his head. “Never.” He turned to Cetan and Kestrel, the latter of whom he gave a grin and a bow. “Ready to go?”

Cetan swallowed, looking at Kestrel. Simurgh was terrifying, she'd since realized, and her fears had only increased. Kestrel, however, seemed eager as ever. “Yeah,” she said, pausing to walk over to her dad. “I’ll come back safe,” she said, patting Gabriel on the back. “Besides, Uncle Icarus’ll be with me. He’ll keep me safe. He’s never let me down before.”

Gabriel allowed himself a sigh. “It’s not Icarus who I don’t trust.”

Icarus stepped forward to his niece, giving a grim nod to Gabriel. “I’ll make sure to-”

A shout came from The Vagabond, a cheery, high-pitched voice that made those standing on the dock jump. “Simurgh, can you hurry it up?”

“Aigle,” Gabriel muttered, a slight smile tugging at his mouth. “Of course.”

Kestrel turned to go, a nervous look on her face. “So, I can go?” Gabriel nodded, and Kestrel dashed off, Simurgh and Icarus following close behind.

Cetan and her father stood at the docks, watching as Kestrel was shepherded onto the ship by the older two griffons. Cetan swallowed, not wanting to look at her dad as she spoke. “Is he really that powerful?”

Gabriel’s mouth pulled itself into a sour knot. “I don’t know,” he growled, running a talon through his feathers. “I don’t know who he is at this point.” He sighed. “But if Icarus is there to keep him in check, Kestrel should be safe. From Oracles, almost certainly. Simurgh is less certain, but if all goes well, Icarus will be his conscience, as always.”

“And you’re okay with all of this?” Cetan whispered, watching as her sister waved to them from the edge of the ship as it pulled away.

Gabriel turned to her, his eyes blazing. “No. But it’s better than the alternative.”

“Which is?”

“Simurgh going down other routes,” Gabriel grunted, pausing to wave to Kestrel, who was beginning to vanish with the ship. “He wants her and Icarus on his crew. Which means that he needs them for something.”

“And what other routes would he have taken?”

“There’s a reason we split,” Gabriel whispered, his voice suddenly hoarse. “He’ll do what it takes to survive. He’s a fool. A clever, cunning, deadly fool, but that doesn’t change it. He’s the oldest of of our crew, and likely going to be the longest lived.”

“So…” Cetan frowned, thinking. “He’s what, fifty-five?”

“You really think I’m that old?”

“No, but Icarus is fifty, so…”

“Point taken,” Gabriel smiled, although there was a significant sadness to his eyes as he saw Kestrel and The Vagabond vanish into a speck as it began to speed away. “Simurgh isn’t younger than sixty, honestly. He just showed up in Griffonstone, thirty-five years ago, and gathered us up into a crew. The ringleader of our little gang, as it were.”

“He can’t be that old,” Cetan whispered. “He’s far too-”

“Spry?” Gabriel allowed himself a bitter chuckle. “Able to knock me onto my ass? Should be weak and frail, after all. But Simurgh’s… enigmatic. Turns out he ages really well.” He let out a sigh. “I just wish I knew that he was here before he got to your sister.”

Cetan glanced at him, her frown worsening. “She was pretty eager to join, even with you being punched to the ground...”

“The Siren Call of Simurgh,” Gabriel growled. “If he ever writes a memoir, that’ll be the title.” He began walking away from the docks, and Cetan followed. As they walked, Gabriel continued to explain. “He’s a troublemater and a bit of a pretentious arse, but back when we got started, he was the one with all the mad ideas. Problem was, he was pretty good at coming out with his ideas at the right time. We just fought a dragon and survived? Let’s go visit the place where it came from. We just encountered a deity? Let’s go try and find where it lives.” His words turned bitter as he continued. “We just defeated an incredibly powerful Oracle? Let’s go jump on a ship and let them chase after it.”

Cetan let out a sigh. “You never should have given her that necklace.”

Gabriel spun around, his eyes widening. “Necklace?”

Cetan frowned. “The one in the shape of a water droplet? Gareth was after that, from the looks of things. Probably cause of that this whole mess got started.”

Cetan, unlike her sister, had learned far too many words from her time at the docks. But the one her father said in that moment was both exotic enough and vulgar enough to break through her tolerance for curses. Gabriel continued to swear for another minute or so, breaking off into a mad dash. “Should have figured it out far sooner,” he muttered, leaving Cetan to stand there, awkwardly, as her dad vanished around a corner.

Author's Note

Big thanks to Aeluna and ShadowblazeCR for their feedback in getting this chapter ready to release. Apologies for the delay on this chapter. NaNoWriMo distracted me from getting through final edits, and then Shadow came around offering to help out with the story, and I certainly wasn't one to skip out on a chance for even more feedback.

It's unusual to have a chapter dedicated to a single character- the closest I've got in all of my drafts is one involving a variety of characters with Passerine thrown into the mix, and a few chapters here and there dedicated to the Oracles as a whole, but this one was entirely revolving around Simurgh. Hope it was a good read to have some time just focused on him doing things and ~~imitating Newt Scamander~~ give roundabout responses.