· · · · · · ·

· Indian Children ·

· · · · · · ·

"If you ever need anything else, drop by!" Michal called as they left. Licht smiled tensely, but also raised a reluctant hand to wave them goodbye. When the angel and the mermaid had disappeared entirely, Michal still stood atop the hill for a long time, staring into nothingness. Licht was wise enough to not ask her to come inside.

Seira's stairway led the through the beige clouds of a sunrise and soon took an almost horizontal slope. The mermaid herself had discarded her idol form and sported a tail again, slipping across the steps much like a snake would. The movement was mesmerizing and on top of being somewhat drowsy from the steadily increasing energy of the halo, this led to his unawareness of Seira's brief phone conversation, that and the wind's angle. Only when she stopped moving did he look up.

"You like my tail that much?"

"Uh ..." He then noticed the cellphone she held, in other words, the perfect excuse to change topic. "Are you aware of how damaging the radiation of those things can be?"

"Don't worry, it's a magical cellphone, like our idol microphones. Hanon's idea." She stored it in her hammerspace and continued, "I just talked to Kaito. Lucia is with Titania, Kadru and a bunch of other daughters of nature, they're having a four day conference. You know, eating cake and talking about citizens and magic. They've never been too sure where the Selkies belong, heh ..." She laughed lightly, but ended with a sigh. "Anyway, Kaito said he'll try to get in touch with her and perhaps she can meet us at the conference today."

"Have you told him?"

"No, he was rather curious why I suddenly wanted to find those them. To be honest, I didn't know what to say. Hi guys, Michel dropped out of the sky again?"

"I'm glad you didn't tell anything. I'd rather not meet them yet."

Seira frowned. "You'll have to. Lucia is your best chance at getting in touch with the former Aqua Regina, who will know where your family went. But also ... you may need her to back you up in case we meet others. Not everyone accepts your change of heart, or cares for it."

He looked away.

"Michel ... I just want to keep you out of trouble."

"I know, that's exactly why I want to avoid going there ... I'll talk to Lucia once she is away from the others."

Seira's face brightened up. "Wonderful! In that case, we'll only need to do a bit of a filler episode till then!"

"A what now?"

"It's a way of saying that we've got time to kill. I have an idea about where we can go and if you're worried about what people will think of you, this might actually help. But first ..." She raised her voice into a wordless hum and with a single elegant gesture spread the clouds apart, leaving the orange sky to reflect on the deep ocean. They were so high that they could see the horizon as a disc all around them. The continents were scattered at the edges, barely visible stripes; they were not high enough yet to see them flat.

"Have you ever learned the names of the lands?"

"Some, but I didn't care for it. The Ancients have names for the continents in their own ... our language, but that's about it."

Seira pointed to the west, where the sun's touch made the land clearest. "Africa." She came closer and tipped her fingers against the golden rings around his neck. "Did you know that over there, this tradition still exists in some cultures? But they use it to elongate women's necks, not merely as jewelry."

Then, she pointed to the east. "Australia. Like Africa, it holds a great deal of barren land, but there are less famine due to the different economical structure, though that will change if the refugee number is going to increase."

Finally, she pointed to north. "And there is Asia, and that is the tip India, the land my ocean is named after in human language. There I would like to take you, if you're alright with it?"

"Why not? As long as we've returned as soon as I can speak Lucia without getting a mob on my back."

"Great, then please sit down?"

"What? Why?"

"Oh come on, don't be so suspicious. It will be fun."

He reluctantly sat down, legs leaning over the white stairs. For a moment the magic faltered and he could feel the wind's icy cold, but then the stairs merged into a single path and took a deep spiral dive. Only Michel's single step remained while the path behind him dissolved. Laughing, Seira fell back and within a moment's notice had disappeared beyond the curve of the slide.

Somewhat reluctantly, Michel pulled up his legs, promising himself that the moment this would get undignified, he would simply fly. That moment came soon, as his step merged into the slide with a bump and he fell on his back, leaving his wings to stick out awkwardly in all angles.

By the time he arrived at the bottom, he was one disgraceful mess. The landing on a very poofy invisible cushion didn't help.

Seira already was on her legs and smiled as she asked, "And? Wasn't that fun?"

"No," he grumbled.

She was disappointed. Somehow, this was worse than his injured pride. But by the time he had untangled himself, it was too late to say anything about it.

They were in what seemed to be a cave, with dim magical light burning out of nowhere in particular. It was almost like a small house, full of stored sea treasures, baskets, a bed and a closet, which Seira mostly disappeared into. "Michel, can you turn that big basket there upside down?"

He did so and found it full of shells and makeshift jewelry. "I sell those," Seira said behind him. "See, sometimes I need money on land — Ah, got something your size after all!"

Seira appeared from her closet again and held out a stack of clothing. Around her was a pile of orange and golden clothing, scattered carelessly.

"I have a set of clothing for most countries that line my ocean and I can roughly understand most the languages," she explained. "Here, you can easily wear mine. You'd look more suspicious if you would try passing for a man, even your voice sounds female; the albino look is already going to draw enough attention as it is."

When Michel accepted the clothes, they changed colors to green, white and blue; Seira's magic so they would match his pastel coloration.

"What do you mean, I look like a woman?"

"Oh come on. Now just go change and hide your wings," Seira said before scooping up some clothes for herself and disappearing into another cave.

· · · · · · ·

The honking of horns was all about, stemming from a chaotic mixture of cars, trucks and rishkas. They walked past dirty kitchens, children played with makeshift toys and there was a market where the poor were rich to the sellers, and the buyers left poorer than they were before. The monsoon had been weak this year and it showed in every movement of the humans, from the few wealthy to the many beggars.

In the middle of this city stood a land mark of wonder and a painful contrast to the poverty. The Taj Mahal was am illusion of richness and devotion, the cost of a vain last wish. Seira and Michel reached a relatively quiet part of the city and from there they watched it.

"The Mughal empire was a time of great prosperity. Shah Jahan was a man of peace, twice he stopped his son Aurangzeb from invading other countries, but he is best known for the grave to his most beloved wife. Her death broke him and he built such a costly monument to indulge in the whims of someone not around to see it. I cannot admire anyone who prices their love over their kingdom. A long time ago I stood here with Rina and held this symbol in awe, but she pointed out just what it meant. He wasn't as bad as Sara, but ... strange, right? Such a good man, but not good enough to see his people above his wife."

Michel silently agreed, but he could sympathize a little more than Seira. Grief hadn't driven Shah into a destructive frenzy, for all the failings.

"Should a sinner make his way to his mansion, all his past sins are to be washed away. The sight of this mansion creates sorrowing sighs; and the sun and the mood shed tears from their eyes. In this world this edifice has been made, to display thereby the creator's glory," Seira continued. "Those words were spoken by Shah Jahan. But you don't believe you can be forgiven, do you?"

"Well, definitely not by entering a location. Also, if it was to honor God, he would have spent the money elsewhere," Michel remarked as he kicked away a plastic bag on the ground. "Why are we looking at this thing anyway?"

"Because this evening, we'll enter its subterranean crypt to intercept a black market trade."

Michel turned to her sharply. "What do they trade?"

"Nagas. The Amagis aren't the only magical family who have problems with the fact that way more humans now believe in magic. In fact, Kadru is at that conference right now to find a place to evacuate her children to. India has become quite a prolific source of supposed magical medicines, and the naga are easy prey. They use them as pets, medicine or delicacies."

Michel's cold disdain turned into repulsion. It was moments like this when the feeling that he should have reformed the world were hardest to suppress, and the memory that he himself had once fed on sapient beings only helped build up a silent rage. Icily, he said, "Alright, I'll help. What do you know?"

"The traders have teleportation power and the managers of the area are in on it, that's about it. With as many visitors as the Taj Mahal gets, it was only a matter of time before another magical creature noticed what was going on below. Nobody —" she caught herself just in time. "I have no useful powers for this. Giving them ear pain doesn't take away their ability to aim a gun at me, and I'm hoping you can provide distraction."

He nodded and didn't comment.

"Thank you! We may not be able to save all in the world, but if we can add even just a little happiness to anyone's life, it's good enough. But first, I'll have to find some things for make this basket more comfortable."

· · · · · · ·

The sun set, the visitors were made to depart. Once silence had fallen, a pale stairway briefly flicked in the sky, invisible to unbelieving eyes. Seira and Michel stepped onto the roof of the Taj Mahal, inhumanly quiet themselves. The evening air was still hot, but here a cool wind reached and Michel breathed in deeply, grateful that the city's stench was less thick here. Then he looked around and found he knew the language that appeared in calligraphy all across the place. He could only conclude that professor Amagi had known the language and had passed it onto him.

He turned to Seira to ask what she knew of the writing, but she was occupied with her basket, only her legs stuck out.

"Seira, it's probably large enough already."

"Yes, yes, but it doesn't hurt to make the inside a bit more wide, right?"

"Try not to hurt the laws of physics too much, they bite. I can know, I used to have a dimensional bubble where you could swim in the air. Maintaining it was a pain." He hadn't finished speaking or Seira yelped.

Muttering angrily, she crawled back up from the basket. "I'm a magical mermaid princess who can make stairways in the edge of dreamland, I assure you, physics only bite when I acknowledge their existence."

Michel smirked, less at Seira than the memory that long ago, when he had attacked Kaito and he had gotten lost at sea; Lucia had completely forgotten she could simply swim to Hawaii. Not exactly fond memories, but nevertheless amusing. How much trouble those princesses could have avoided if they'd take physics a little more into account, like swimming over to their enemy and knocking the microphone out of their hands?

"Anyway, what's the point of these writings?" he said, pointing at the calligraphy all around.

"Oh, they are texts about judgment, if I recall correctly. I'm not sure why, I'd have expected tomb writings to be about hope, but well ..." she sighed. "Want to look around? According to my informant, the traders should only be here half an hour from now.

"I think I'll do that, if only to know the area if something goes wrong," he claimed. But in reality, he was curious. Spreading his wings, he made his way across the Taj Mahal, looking for the calligraphy.

"Surely, with each difficulty there is ease"

Optimistic thinking that he still had trouble accepting, but it was right for as far as he knew. Hadn't the princesses told him this years ago? They had been born with everything, yet not. In retrospect, a lot of his motivation had been mere jealousy. Not, like he had always tried to tell himself, a pure desire to fulfill the will of God and save the Earth. God's will was the last thing he had been executing.

"Therefore, as for the orphan protect him, As for the beggar, oppress him not, And as for thy Lord's favor, declare it."

But maybe there had been some spark of truth in his claims. Though what he once had followed hadn't been a true commandment, the reasons why he followed them were something he still could believe in; to better the world. This gave him an idea. Their upcoming little mission would be dangerous, and he was fairly sure he had not lost how to do a bombastic entrance.

"Seira, I have an idea. How about we play this with a little fanfare?" he said upon return.

· · · · · · ·

The crypt was not particularly large and composed of only gray stone, crude compared to the elegant octagonal home of the cenotaphs above. The hunters had already arrived, given passage through a glowing blue door where once had been a wall. Their merchandise was a seemingly small number of naga, ... seemingly, since the naga were small : all children, they were easier to handle. In wooden crates with barely enough holes, many black snakes had been piled up. Ordinary snakes, till one realized their hisses concealed words that were pleading and fearful. It didn't matter. The hunters had long since grown immune to these weak voices.

There were three cages too within which more humanoid naga were on display, two whose upper bodies were that of children with snake where legs would be expected, and one who seemed human entirely save for her eyes and the thin blue scales. None of them seemed older than five and none of them seemed afraid like human children would be, their fear was not to be seen in expressions or tears. It was in the balls they had curled into, the perpetually wide open eyes standing black and the speed with which they responded to every sound.

Their captors waited, occasionally joking to hide their anxiety. This trade wasn't merely something they needed to conceal from the law enforcers, but from the crime world as well. After all, right now there wasn't much competition and they liked it that way. Hence their highly unusual trading point ... they had all the money needed to share with those overseeing the monument, and the mutual benefit was secrecy. The traders weren't found out, and the maintainers could wash away the money loss of when long ago, when they had used many funds of the Taj Mahal's restoration process for other purposes. Back then, the global chaos had made it easy to put things under the cover. A decade later, it wasn't so easy anymore.

The wait was always longest, but today was worse than usual. The strange echoes they heard above were largely to blame and they made several calls to the Taj's supervisors. But every time were assured there could be no visitors, the area was officially sealed for "maintenance". The buyer was letting them wait too and the their magical door flickered strangely. They'd used it long enough to know this meant a fluctuation in the magical energies and so they expected a berserk naga to appear from it sooner or later. Those who considered closing it were told the noises came from above, and so the men argued about what to do.

Slowly the noises changed. A clear voice was formed and it told them one of the passages written here :

"And you consume inheritance, devouring altogether, and you adore wealth with immense love. No! When the earth has been leveled — pounded and crushed — and your Lord has come and the angels, rank upon rank, and Hell on that day is brought, pulled by seventy thousand sets of reins, each set of reins by the hands of seventy thousand angels, as it groans and seethes in fury; on that day man, the disbeliever, will remember his prodigal conduct in it, but how will remembering avail him?"

The voice seemed to come from all directions, but soon clustered together at the entrance of the crypt. Down came what at first appeared to be an albino lady with long hair, until the veils behind her folded open to reveal four feathered wings.

"Don't worry about the seventy thousand though, you'll only have me to deal with tonight," Michel grinned.

At least one of the men must have understood the language and cowered back in fear of divine retribution, but another simply pulled his gun and aimed. He shot, but his target was no human. Michel's eyes saw far more than those of humans could see within the same time and his speed superior. He shifted to avoid one bullet, and blocked another with a flute morphed into shield. With such little space he quickly came close to his targets, changed his flute back to its ordinary shape and forced out the black whips.

With one swift movement he had flown out of the crypt, dragging along the humans. In the hall above he finally had enough room for a decent fight, and with full force flung them against the wall. Hearing this, Seira promptly entered through her stairs and started opening the crates and cages.

"Don't worry, I've come to save you," she whispered in Sanskrit, hoping they would understand. The children cowered back, some snapped at her and scraped her skin open with their fangs. She ignored the stinging pain and very softly started to sing. It was just a whispered lullaby, and a poor translation at that, but it had all her compassion in it. The children calmed down and though distrustful, allowed her to pick them up.

Some struggled at sight of the basket, thinking of it as another prison. Seira first placed in the largest children, and it was their comfort won that led in the others. The insides were abnormally large for what only appears as a one meter tall weaving, and once they found it much larger and full of cushions and grass, they were more eager to get away from the stone and cages.

"I will bring you home soon," Seira promised at the end of her song and closed the basket. While space was warped inside, the weight was still the that of the number within and she could barely lift it up. With more than one deep breath, she managed to get it on the first step of her stairs and from there on decided it was time to invent the magical dream escalator. It worked.

She was about to vanish when a shot drew her attention to the crypt entrance and she feared Michel had been hit, but the fierce glow that came from above didn't falter yet. Another shot, now it dimmed for a second ... with all willpower she suppressed the urge to run up. If she herself got shot, things might only get worse. With the basket, she vanished to a safe location.

Michel had found an interesting way to use that halo. If he pulled in too much energy than he needed, it would expand. The light not only blinded his enemy, but affected the invisible currents around him to dizzying extents. They could not aim clearly, but he saw everything as sharp as he should. Once scrape across his arm only and a hole in his wing and he snatched away the first gun, absorbing it into the black tendrils of his flute. He kicked the man over and rapidly looked for the rest.

Two of the men had fallen to their knees, he thought they called for forgiveness, it didn't matter. The other two shot again, but the left gunman was tackled by one of the two prayers. Michel went for the last, staying at distance and once more using the whip to knock him over. He caught the gun and claimed it as well.

The sudden chaos came to a startling halt, and Michel became aware of himself again. The beating of heart was one thing, and he didn't understand why. There was the sound of injured and confused humans, and the last was the clapping of hands. To this he looked around frantically, then found a human standing in one of the doors.

This person was different from the traders, an old man who looked strangely friendly. The sort that hands out candy to children and needs help crossing the street, and somewhat stereotypically British. The man's gaze was used to a strange world, and held Michel's for a moment long enough to betray the angel's own tainted immortality. The man smiled, said something in foreign language.

It didn't matter. Michel turned away and whispered, "Seira."

The stairway appeared from the ceiling. This time Michel didn't walk it, but flew through the eye of the spiral. Only a few feathers remained in the trail.

· · · · · · ·

Seira released the naga children on her island. It was a temporary solution, but it would do for now. Michel's many monsters appeared from the bushes, investigating and welcoming the visitors, but he only paid attention to Seira as another text he had read haunted through his mind.

"And when the female child was buried alive, it shall be questioned: for what sin she was killed?"

The unborn Seira, waiting in the dreamspheres for her birth that should have come years ago. What kind of a monster had he been that he had not seen his own evil? She had been as innocent as could be and he had sacrificed her so simply. Oh, he could tell himself he wasn't like that anymore. Alright. But just the fact that he remembered didn't change that it had happened. Michal did something to make up for her past, and the more he thought the more it seemed ludicrous he had spent ten years feeling horrible about what he was, yet never doing something. He hadn't changed much at all, he realized. So focused on his own suffering that he didn't see what was going on around. I'm such a disgrace was a mere substitute for I'm so miserable.

Seira had sat down against a tree and yawned for the fourth time since arrival. She had only gotten a few hours of sleep after Licht's concert, and some in the afternoon of their day in India, but that helped her little.

"Seira, is there anything you need help with?"

She looked up. "What do you mean? I'm fine, I just need to rest a little."

"You couldn't find anyone to help you build that shelter and you don't don't have any guard or warriors either to help you with things like that black market. Just where is your kingdom?"

"When did you get so sharp?"

"I just learning how to perceive," he said. "I've spent years above the earth, seeing nameless people fight each other over conflicts that shouldn't ever have seen their involvement, and people being abandoned where they needed help the most. We didn't watch below the oceans, but I can guess something is wrong when royalty is doing charity without any supporters."

"You learn well then. Yes, I have a problem in my kingdom. They don't want their leader to be someone who just happened the get the most of the ocean's energy. There's nothing to be fought, and no plague monsters to be defeated, if that's what you believed. I don't think you can help with this, Michel." She stood up. "Speaking of my kingdom, I'd better return."

Her stairway already started to shimmer before her and Michel quickly stretch two wings aside, blocking her way. "No. As a friend I'll tell you to sleep. You won't achieve anything when your worn down physically."

She smiled and shook her head. "That's another you need to learn, Michel. Sometimes it's more important to hold up an image of strength than to actually have strength. Right now, it may hurt matters more if it looks like I'm slacking off than whether or not I'm tired."

She gently pushed his wings aside and stepped onto her stairway and said, "But thank you for caring."

· · · · · · ·