Sweeping the deck gave Zyren a warm feeling, and for a brief moment, he found himself working with a faint smile. The simple rhythm of the broom against the weathered planks transported him elsewhere—to quieter times, simpler days. As soon as he'd picked up the broom, memories of closing his parents' tavern flooded back to him.

  In those moments, after all the travellers had departed and silence settled over the Verdant Shadow, Zyren and his parents would begin their nightly ritual. Faelar would stack the chairs while Sylvaen counted the day's earnings, and Zyren would sweep, just as he was doing now. The three of them would share stories of the day—laughing about the dwarf who'd tried to out-drink an elf twice his size, or the bard whose ballad had turned increasingly nonsensical with each mug of ale.

  In those moments, it was just the three of them, exhaling the stress of running the tavern together. His mother's soft humming would fill the air as she wiped down tables, and his father's deep chuckle would rumble through the room whenever Zyren mimicked a particularly memorable patron.

  Now, those same memories felt warped—shadows twisted by Urdan's words: "Your parents sheltered you in that tavern. They protected you for years. But they knew. They knew you were a window into something forgotten."

  He gripped the broom tighter, knuckles pale. Someone had been watching him all along. How many patrons had sat smiling, drinking, and spying? Had the merchant who taught him to count coins been one of them? Or the ranger who showed him how to hunt? The thought made his stomach twist.

  Since that night in the captain's quarters, he'd only managed to distract himself for brief seconds before his thoughts inevitably circled back to the revelation. Since leaving home, he had either been deceived or warned against deceit—a cruel pattern that seemed to follow him like a shadow.

  "I also like to sweep bad thoughts away."

  The broom struck a broad, split-toed shoe. Zyren startled and looked up, finding himself looking into the smiling face of a creature he hadn't seen before.

  "Sorry," he muttered, embarrassed at being caught so deep in thought.

  "No worries," replied the slightly forward-leaning figure. "We know this is a lot to take in." The stranger placed one callused hand on Zyren's shoulder and gently took the broom away. "Let's take a break now. I think we're good on sweeping."

  Zyren forced a smile and nodded, noticing a vague scent of herbs behind the usual salt and sweat that permeated the ship. It was pleasant—reminiscent of the dried bundles his mother would hang from the tavern's rafters.

  "I'm Yrrig, by the way," the Satyr continued, tapping his chest. His skin was a warm amber colour, textured like fine leather that had seen years of sun and wind. "I handle the supplies—food, water, weapons—keep everything running smoothly."

  "Nice to meet you. I'm—"

  "—Zyren!" Yrrig's racing speech barely gave Zyren space to talk, let alone breathe. "We all know. Kaelith already told us about you. She's impressed with how you handled yourself in the forest." His eyes sparkled with genuine warmth. "Not to mention the way you faced the Cap' before that."

  Yrrig moved almost like he was dancing, his body in constant, fluid motion. The backward-curving knees in the middle of his muscled legs stole attention from the arched horns that swept back from his forehead. He seemed to belong more in the mountains than on a pirate ship, yet here he was, moving across the deck with the ease of someone who had found his place in the world.

  "I'm sure the captain already gave you a version of the speech," Yrrig continued, leaning over the ship's railing. The sea stretched endlessly before them, a vast expanse of deep blue that seemed to merge with the horizon. "I'll leave that part to them. How are you feeling? This isn't the safest trip to make, especially if you have no experience with rough seas."

  "That's been the least of my concerns," Zyren sighed, joining Yrrig at the edge, letting the breeze cool his face. The wood creaked beneath his feet, the ship's constant motion a reminder that he was far from solid ground. "Not that they're easy to handle, but these storms at least gave me something else to think about."

  "Yeah, you have to focus during those," Yrrig agreed, his golden-brown eyes scanning the deck where sailors worked with practiced efficiency. "Thaln can explain more about them. The Pelagor rule over these waters—sea spirits, ancient as the tides themselves. They don't much like visitors crossing their territory."

  "And where are we heading?" asked Zyren, seizing the opportunity to gather more information.

  "Thalpharos," Yrrig replied, turning to the sea again. The word rolled off his tongue with reverence. "Most important outpost we've got. Guess it makes sense with you and Bruln on board."

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  Zyren's ears perked up. "Why does it make sense?" At last, he was getting more information than new questions.

  "It's the only way to show you what this is about. And to get you on the books as well."

  "Books?" Zyren frowned.

  "Yeah. The Registry," Yrrig clarified, lowering his voice slightly. "Records of everyone—and everything. You'll see." His tone shifted suddenly. He bounced to attention. Across the deck, Kaelith signalled with two fingers. Yrrig waved back.

  "Time to thread the needle," he said. "We're almost there."

  And he left without another word, bounding across the deck with that same peculiar grace.

  Zyren watched Yrrig leave, his movements fluid and almost dance-like. The whole crew looked stationed in positions, all focused on the tasks at hand. The captain was also outside, at the helm, silently looking ahead, his massive form unmistakable even from a distance.

  The wind had shifted. So had the current—barely at first, but now it was unmistakable. A subtle pull forward, like the sea itself had changed its mind. The sails tightened above him, filling with purpose. The Kelpie moved faster, slicing through the water.

  Looking at all of the pirates in that moment made Zyren feel useless. They seemed happy to have him on board and were working really hard to take him through the storms to Thalpharos. Still, he hadn't asked to be there. They had brought him, deceiving him to be in their hands. Like everyone seemed to do with him.

  Parvani brushed past him, leaving a strong sent of some spices in the air, nodding respectfully. "Good to see you up and about," she said, her voice carrying over the increasing sounds of creaking wood and rushing water. Thaln called out to him from the rigging, raising a hand in greeting. These weren't the cold stares he'd expected from pirates—there was curiosity in their eyes, perhaps even hope.

  That's when he saw the islands—two of them, small and dark, barely large enough for a house or two each. The trees covering them had broad, shadowy leaves, swaying despite the lack of surface wind. Beneath the canopy, thick foliage choked any view of the ground. And between them lay a narrow passage, just wide enough for the ship.

  "The Twins," someone called out. "Prepare to thread!"

  The crew's movements became more urgent. Orders were shouted across the deck, the words carried away by the wind that now whistled through the rigging. The ship lurched slightly as the current caught it, pulling them toward the passage with increasing speed.

  "Guess we are the only ones without a task, eh?"

  Bruln's gravelly voice broke through Zyren's spiralling thoughts. The Cragling was leaning against the railing, his massive form surprisingly at ease as he watched the crew. His skin caught the sunlight, the scars across his arms and chest telling stories of battles Zyren could only imagine.

  "Still struggling to accept it all?" Bruln asked, his amber eyes studying Zyren with unexpected perception.

  "It's hard when you know less than everyone," Zyren vented, the frustration he'd been holding back finally finding voice. The deck vibrated beneath them as the ship picked up speed, the sensation traveling up through his legs.

  "That's true," Bruln nodded, his expression thoughtful. "It's unsettling how much they know about us, given how little we know about them."

  Zyren stood silent, realizing that Bruln must have had the same questions as him. The Cragling seemed to have joined the pirates' ranks quickly, but now he was showing that there was more to his thoughts than Zyren had assumed.

  "For me, it's easier," Bruln continued, his voice a low rumble that barely carried over the sound of the waves slapping against the hull. "I know that there is more about the humans than they show. Then some things Urdan said, in the first night, made sense. Others were completely new." The sails slowly stretched above them, the wind behind them gaining power. "At least I'm not caged, and they seem to trust me enough to let me walk around. In the end, there is no way to go, and if the ship sinks, we sink with it. Better to help and see where it goes."

  While Bruln was talking, it became clear that the ship was speeding up. The crew ran around, ensuring that it was ready to take advantage of the wind and stayed on course. Sailors called to each other in a language Zyren didn't recognize, their movements synchronized like dancers in a complex performance.

  The Cragling was right, Zyren realized. Even if he had been tricked into coming aboard, no one had been anything but kind to him since his arrival. The thought sat uneasily alongside his anger, neither cancelling the other out.

  The ship entered the shadow of the islands, and the temperature dropped noticeably. The air grew cooler, damper, carrying the rich scent of vegetation and something else—something ancient and unknowable. The sounds changed too, the open-sea waves replaced by a more focused current, water rushing between the narrow passage with greater force.

  Zyren watched a loose rope, flapping unnoticed. He moved to help, his hands remembering the lessons he learned aboard the Breeze. It wasn′t perfect, but at least the rope was tied.

  "Thanks," said the read haired pirate close by, "I was starting to doubt if you were ever going to do something."

  "Glad to help." Zyren admitted, blushing. Every time Hisoka talked at him his mind went blank and he only manage to mumble words.

  He returned to Bruln, who had observed the interaction with interest.

  Maybe he needed to stop resisting and join the crew to help take the ship to its destination. Like Bruln said, it wasn't as if he had any other choice.

  Once they made it to land, he could see more and decide what to do. For now, perhaps it was time to stop fighting the current and see where it took him.

  "You know," Zyren said finally, "I think I've been so focused on how I got here that I haven't thought about where we're going. Or what I might find there."

  Bruln's mouth curved into what might have been a smile. "That's how it starts. The past may shape us, but it's what lies ahead that matters now."

  The ship surged forward, threading the space between the two islands. The trees above cast the deck in dappled shadows. The passage was tight, the waters deep and strange—but the Kelpie slipped through like it had done this a hundred times before.

  Zyren gripped the railing tighter. His anger hadn't vanished. His questions weren't answered. But for the first time, he didn't resist the ship's course.

  He followed the wind.

  Thank you for following the Book of Zyren!

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