The group found themselves standing on solid ground once more—a welcome relief after the surreal events on the floating island. The last whispers of the wind spirit's magic faded.

  Creed immediately took charge, pulling out a well-worn compass and a detailed map of the region. He studied it for a moment, turning the parchment slightly to align with their surroundings before nodding to himself.

  "We're here," he said, tapping a spot on the map. "If we head southwest, we should reach Tempest City before nightfall. The path is clear, and we shouldn't run into any trouble—assuming no more 'dark lords' decide to take an interest in us." His dry tone earned a few chuckles from the group, the tension of their strange adventure finally easing.

  "Chirp"... Okay, walking. Just walking. Normal walking.

  Fiara stretched her arms, rolling her shoulders. "Good. I could use a proper bed and a meal that wasn't offered to a wind spirit." She shot a teasing glance at Mikalien, who was still scribbling notes about Anema in her journal, her eyes alight with excitement.

  Muta cracked his knuckles and grinned. "And I could use a drink. Maybe three. After dealing with confuseding trolls and floating islands, I’ve earned it."

  Sora, who had been quietly preening his ruffled feathers, let out a soft, agreeing chirp. The idea of a safe, warm place to rest sounded heavenly—especially if it meant no more unexpected examinations or bizarre rituals.

  Mikalien finally looked up from her notes, blinking as if remembering where she was. "Oh! Right, yes, the city. But—Creed, do you think we could stop by the Arcane Society first? I need to document everything about Anema and the trolls’ cultural misinterpretation before I forget anything! This could revolutionize our understanding of spirit interactions with mortal and also the Har—"

  "Mika," Fiara interrupted, pinching the bridge of her nose. "One thing at a time. First, we get back. Second report back to the guild. Then, maybe, you can bury yourself in research. But after we’ve all had a chance to rest."

  Mikalien pouted but didn’t argue, tucking her journal away with a sigh. "Fine, fine. But I’m writing down everything the second we get to an inn!"

  Creed folded the map and tucked it away, his expression calm but resolute. "Then let’s move. If we keep a steady pace, we’ll make it before dark."

  With that, the group set off toward the southwest, the dense forest gradually thinning into open plains as they walked.

  The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the grass, but the path ahead was clear. For the first time in what felt like days, things seemed… normal.

  Well, as normal as they could be for a group that included a hyperactive halfling researcher, a harpy who’d only just discovered he had a tail, and an orc who was already fantasizing about his next ale.

  Sora trotted alongside them, his wings tucked comfortably at his sides. He wasn’t sure what awaited them in Tempest City—more questions, more oddities, maybe even more people who’d want to poke at his feathers—but for now, he was just glad to be on steady ground.

  The only thing that mattered was putting one foot in front of the other—and making it to the city before nightfall.

  Sora flexed his talons against the dirt path, savoring the solidness beneath his feet. After everything that had happened, something as simple as walking felt almost miraculous.

  ...

  Why does my tail keep doing that? Sora twisted his head to watch as his feathered tail flicked unconsciously behind him. I never even knew I had this thing until Mika started poking at it. How does that even work? Well it did make sense to have tail since I'm a bird right?

  Ahead of him, Mikalien was practically vibrating with unspent academic energy, her fingers twitching like she was mentally writing three different theses at once. Sora instinctively sidestepped away from her.

  Fiara and Creed walked in comfortable silence, while Muta hummed some orcish drinking song under his breath. The normality of it all was...

  Nice.

  Weirdly nice.

  But Sora's wings twitched. Anema said the winds were "whispering" about me. What does that even mean? And why do I get the feeling that "finding my way" isn't going to be as simple as just... walking into A city and calling it a day?

  With a resigned chirp, he picked up his pace. Whatever came next, at least there’d be solid ground under him. Probably. Hopefully.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Maybe he’d just stick very close to Creed. The elf seemed to know what he was doing.

  Surprisingly—or perhaps unsurprisingly, given how bizarre their day had already been—nothing else happened on the journey back. The road to Tempest City remained peaceful, the only sounds being the rustling of grass and the occasional distant call of birds.

  As the towering walls of the city came into view, Sora’s nerves settled slightly, replaced by a growing sense of curiosity.

  The massive stone walls loomed overhead, weathered yet imposing, their surfaces etched with intricate runes that pulsed faintly with protective magic. The gates themselves were wrought iron, embellished with swirling designs resembling storm clouds—fitting for a city known for its tempestuous weather and even more tempestuous politics.

  Though Sora doesn't know what the pattern meant to represent but was in awe nonetheless. Whoa… Sora thought, his golden eyes wide as he craned his neck to take it all in. This place is huge!

  While Sora was admiring the wall, Creed smoothly presented his adventurer’s ID to the gate guard, who gave it a cursory glance before nodding and waving them through. As they stepped inside, the city unfolded before them like a living tapestry of noise, color, and movement.

  The streets were paved with cobblestone, polished smooth by centuries of foot traffic. Buildings rose on either side—some squat and sturdy, others tall and elegant, their rooftops a mix of slate shingles, wooden planks, and copper domes that had long since turned verdigris green.

  Merchant stalls lined the main thoroughfare, their owners hawking everything from spell components to skewers of sizzling meat. The scent of spices, baked bread, and the faint metallic tang of magic hung thick in the air.

  Sora gaze darted around, taking in the dizzying variety of races—humans, elves, dwarves, even a few beastfolk like himself, though none were harpies. A group of robed mages hurried past, arguing about being late for class again, while a street performer further down juggled floating orbs of light to the delight of a small crowd.

  Mikalien, practically vibrating beside him, leaned in. "Amazing, right? Tempest City’s one of the biggest trade hubs on the continent! The Arcane Society’s headquarters is here, and the birthplace of airships along with—"

  "Mika," Fiara cut in, though her tone was more amused than annoyed. "Let him breathe. First time in a city this big can be overwhelming."

  Sora chirped in agreement, his tail flicking nervously. Overwhelming is an understatement.

  Creed led them down a side street, where the noise faded slightly. The architecture here was more residential—cozy townhouses with flower boxes under the windows.

  A few cats lounged on windowsills, watching the group pass with lazy interest.

  Even the cats here look fancy, Sora thought, eyeing one particularly plump tabby wearing a tiny, jeweled collar. Do I need a collar? Do harpies wear collars? Wait, do I even count as a pet?

  Sora shook his head, ruffling his feathers. Focus, Sora. You’re not a pet. You’re-

  Muta clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder, nearly knocking him off balance. "First time in a proper city, eh? Don’t worry, kid. Once you’ve had a taste of the Drunken Kraken’s ale, you’ll feel right at home."

  Sora chirped uncertainly. Ale? I don’t even know if I can drink that. Do harpies drink ale?

  "Guild first," Creed interrupted, rubbing his temples. "Before we do anything else, we need to report what happened. And… explain the airship situation."

  Muta groaned. "Yeah, that’s gonna be fun."

  After weaving through the city’s lively streets, they finally arrived at the Adventurer’s Guild—a massive, multi-story building with a wooden sign depicting a sword crossed with a wand. The doors swung open with a creak, revealing a lively hall filled with adventurers drinking, arguing, and comparing loot.

  Creed hesitated at the entrance, inhaling deeply, then exhaling like a man preparing for his own execution.

  "You good?" Fiara asked, raising an eyebrow.

  "No," Creed admitted.

  Then they stepped inside.

  The moment they stepped inside, Sora was hit with a wall of noise and movement. The guild hall was packed with adventurers of every conceivable race and profession, clustered in groups around wooden tables, some celebrating, others arguing, and a few already passed out in the corner.

  So many people Sora’s feathers puffed up again as he took in the scene:

  A squad of heavily armored adventures were arm-wrestling at a corner table, their laughter booming as one of them slammed another’s fist down hard enough to crack the wood.

  A pair of rangers, clad in forest-green cloaks, were quietly but intensely debating the best way to track a phantom stag, their fingers tracing invisible maps in the air.

  A burly minotaur leaned against the bar, nursing a tankard the size of Sora’s head, while the bartender—a wiry gnome with an impressive mustache—refilled it without even asking.

  A group of rookie adventurers, their armor still shiny and unscuffed, huddled together near the quest board, whispering nervously as they eyed a posting for "Basilisk Egg Retrieval (Caution: Petrification Risk)."

  And in the far corner, a lone, hooded figure sat silently, a black-sheathed greatsword leaning against their chair. No one seemed to dare approach them.

  Creed ignored the chaos and strode straight for the reception desk, where a sharp-eyed human woman with her dark hair tied in a tight bun was sorting through paperwork.

  The guild’s reception desk was manned by Linda, a sharp-eyed human woman with her dark hair tied back in a no-nonsense bun. The moment she spotted Creed, her expression darkened.

  "Creed," she said flatly. "Where’s the airship?"

  Creed cleared his throat. "Ah. About that. We, uh… lost it."

  Silence.

  Linda’s eye twitched. "You lost it."

  "To goblins," Muta added helpfully.

  A vein appeared on her forehead.

  Then—

  "YOU WHAT?!"

  Linda’s shriek tore through the guild like a thunderclap. Every conversation stopped. Mugs froze halfway to lips. Adventurers froze mid-drink. A dwarf dropped his tankard. Somewhere in the back, a bard’s lute string snapped from the sheer force of her rage. Even the minotaur at the bar flinched

  Sora, startled, let out a high-pitched "CHIRP?!" and jumped and nearly leapt into Fiara’s arms.

  Fiara winced. "Yeah… that went about as well as expected."

  Linda slammed her hands on the desk, her face turning a dangerous shade of red. "That was a guild-commissioned airship, Creed! Do you have any idea how much that cost?!" IT WAS BRAND NEW TOO!"

  Creed held up his hands in surrender. "In our defense… the goblins really wanted it."

  Linda looked like she was about to strangle him with her bare hands.

  Mikalien, ever the optimist, piped up. "But we discovered a floating island! And met a wind spirit! And studied troll culture! That’s valuable research, right?"

  Linda’s glare shifted to her. "Mika. Shut up."

  Mikalien shut up.

  Sora, meanwhile, was seriously considering bolting out the door.

  After what felt like an eternity of shouting, Linda finally collapsed into her chair, rubbing her temples. "You’re all on probation. And you’re paying for that airship. Somehow."

  Creed nodded solemnly. "Understood."

  Fiara sighed. "Guess we’re taking every low-paying job for the next six months."

  Muta groaned. "Ugh. No more fancy ale for me."

  Linda glared at them one last time before her gaze landed on Sora, who was still trying to make himself as small as possible. Her expression softened slightly. "...And who’s this?"

  Creed glanced at Sora, then back at Linda. "Oh. That’s… complicated."

  Sora let out a nervous chirp.

  Linda stared.

  Then she sighed. "You know what? I don’t even want to know. Just… get out of my sight before I change my mind about throwing you all in the debtors' prison!"

  The group didn’t need to be told twice.

  As they hurried out of the guild hall, Sora finally exhaled, his feathers settling.

  "Well," he thought. "That could have gone worse."

  Then he heard Linda’s distant scream: "AND STAY OUT!"

  …

  "Or not."

  Fiara clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Welcome to the party, birdie. It only gets weirder from here."

  Sora wasn’t sure if that was a promise or a threat.

  I think… I think I liked the floating island better.

  But as they stepped back into the bustling streets of Tempest City, one thing was certain—his life was about to get a lot more interesting. As a certain Being watched in amusement.

  Hehehehe this is gonna be fun.