After the Fall
Mikhail had lurked around an Anunnaki Estate for years before his friends convinced him to inhabit it. They were safe houses used by angels on missions that kept them from Kiri for long periods of time. This led to the Seriphs knowing where to find him when a lost gumiho needed to be assigned assistance. The angels’ primary objective was to keep balance. Not between any perceived good or evil but a balance of creation. They were supposed to keep caelestes and majikal items from extinction, keep history makers around for their chapters, and any other errand the Fates thought to extend to them.
Zephaniel, an angel just under the Seraphs, landed in the backyard of the Anunnaki Estate causing the wards to shudder. Yangin came out of the home, hands ablaze but halted when Mikhail knelt before him. “Mikhail Arch, fallen for the loss of innocents, you are being given a chance to renew grace.”
Mikhail lifted his head in question, “The only way to right the wrong is to bring Chisanu Binnya into custody. The Seraphs have stated-”
“They are the ones who have sent me. This will not be a complete absolution. You are to help a gumiho find the final Yeonghon Urn in existence.” The larger man placed a hand on Mikhail’s shoulder. “Do well so you may return home.” He slid his blindingly white wings out in a full stretch before launching himself into the air.
“What’s a gumiho?” Yangin was still uncertain on his feelings of angels, they did not have enough emotion for him to be comfortable.
“They are Korean nine-tailed foxes. Cousins of kitsunes.” Mikhail waited a moment before walking through the house and to the front door. A knock sounded just before he could open, Yangin staring past him to see who it was.
A young teen stood with sand hair just past his shoulders, black jacket covering a white shirt. He flinched as the door swung open and began mumbling in Korean before his face flushed. “I’m sorry.” He hesitated, staring wide eyed, “I was...told. Ne, told to come...here.”
“You are the gumiho?” Mikhail moved back to let him into the house. Yangin moved further away, watching the kid closely, feeling his majik swirl around him.
“Maho.” He pointed to himself. Mikhail paused for a moment before speaking with him in Korean. The relief that flooded his face was matched by the astonishment on Yangin’s. Mikhail led Maho to the living room, very focused on the conversation, as Kamran came skulking around a corner near the stairs.
“I swear he’s programmed or something.” He glared at Mikhail. Yangin raised a brow in question. “It’s an angel thing, they know the language of their charges. Don’t know how it works yet though, he won’t tell me.”