The Peregrines

Chapter 21

{Video is mine}

{ Edited - 14th Oct, 2021 }
{ Edited - 9th May 2024 }

The snake girl let out a disapproving noise and whispered under her breath, causing the python to retreat and wrap around her neck once more. Throughout it all, my gaze remained fixed on the book.

The one we had misplaced was already remarkable, even though I had only glimpsed it briefly one night, illuminated by the flickering orange flames of the peculiar children's burning home. However, this new book was on a whole different level. Not only was it significantly larger, but its intricate design made the previous one seem like plain old toilet paper.

The pages were covered in vibrant maps, crafted from a material sturdier than paper, possibly calfskin, and adorned with gold trim. The margins were filled with lush illustrations, legends, and blocks of explanatory text.

Millard noticed me admiring it and said, "It's nice for you to join us, Kira. . . . Isn't it stunning? Excepting perhaps the Codex Peculiaris, this edition of the Map is the finest book in all peculiardom. It took a team of cartographers, artists, and bookmakers a lifetime to create, and it's said that Perplexus Anomalous himself drew some of the maps. I've wanted to see it in person ever since I was a boy. Oh, I am so pleased!"

"It's really something," I said, and it was.

"Millard was just showing us some of his favourite parts," said Olive.

"To take their minds off things, Timone suggested it," Millard explained, "And make the waiting easier. Here, Kira, come and help me turn the pages."

I quietly moved closer to Millard and slid my fingers under the oversized page, needing both of our hands to turn it. We carefully examined the Map. I found it captivating, especially the remote and unfamiliar regions.

Of course, Europe with its intricate details was clearly defined, but as we ventured further, the information became more uncertain. Large portions of Africa remained unknown, like uncharted territory. The same was true for Siberia, although the Map of Days had a unique designation for Russia's Far East: The Great Far-Reaching Solitude.

"Are there loops in these places?" asked Bronwyn, pointing to a void that stretched across much of China. "Are there peculiars there, like us?"

"Certainly there are," Millard said. "Peculiarness is determined by genes, not geography. But large portions of the peculiar world have simply not been explored."

"Why not?"

"I suppose we were too busy surviving."

We flipped through more pages, searching for empty spaces. There were plenty, each with whimsical names. The Sad Kingdom of Sand. The Angry Land. A Bright Spot Overflowing with Stars. I silently repeated the words, savouring their shape. Along the edges were terrifying locations labelled as Wastes on the Map.

In Scandinavia's far north lay The Frozen Wasteland. Borneo's centre was known as The Sweltering Wasteland. The Arabian peninsula was often referred to as The Merciless Wasteland. At the southern tip of Patagonia stood The Gloomy Wasteland. Some places, like New Zealand, Hawaii, and even Florida, were not included in these descriptions.

As I gazed at the Map of Days, even the most intimidating locations stirred up a peculiar desire within me. While Millard chattered away about the Map's history, my finger followed a boundless and uncharted desert in Asia.

The Winged Creature's Endless Flight. A whole new world awaited exploration, and I had barely scratched the surface. Perhaps it was wise to leave some areas on the map empty. To allow the world to retain some of its enchantment, instead of prying out every single secret.