Chapter Text
Mortal Realm - The Present Day
Looking in the bathroom mirror, Mai realised she’d somehow managed to get ink all over her face. Again.
Sighing, she ran her fingers through her hair, trying not to look at the bags under her eyes. The ink she could wash off, the bags she was stuck with, at least until she could get more sleep. She really needed to stop getting so caught up in her work.
Right, she thought, I think I need to sleep before I read anything else, it’s reached the point I’m not even sure what I'm reading any more.
Mai showered, washing off all the ink and once she was dressed in pyjamas, picked up Abrams On The Establishment Of Modern Bureaucracy In The Infernal Realms. It sounded painfully boring, but had turned out to be surprisingly intriguing, hence the current lack of sleep.
In the time she’d been studying for her degree and then working as a Three Realms research historian, Mai had come across more than one discrepancy in the early records. This was only to be expected, especially in the Mortal Realm Archives. Records always had some variation and generally, the older the records, the greater the differences.
Out of interest she’d started keeping track of the differences and she hadn't been at all surprised to find the anticipated variations in the Infernal and Mortal Realms’ records. What had surprised her was finding unexpectedly rigorous uniformity in the small part of the Celestial Realm Archives she’d been allowed to access.
All of the earliest surviving records carried identical stories.
Not similar. Identical. The only way Mai could imagine this would happen is if they'd all been deliberately planted by the same person, at the same time.
Several mid-era histories from both the Mortal and Infernal Realms referred to Celestial publications that appeared to no longer be readily available. One book appeared to have been expunged entirely, not just removed from general circulation in the Grand Celestial Library’s collection.
Mai’s well-honed bullshit detector had started to tick. There was a secret here. Someone was hiding information.
Starting to doze, she put aside the Abrams book when she had reached the point where the seven angels fell from the Celestial Realm. Another historian who got it wrong. Six angels had fallen, and one angelic demon had spawned shortly after. Everyone knew that.
Mind you, he wasn’t the only author who got it wrong, it was a fairly persistent error in the earliest Mortal Realm records on the Celestial Civil War.
So persistent in fact that Mai was starting to wonder if it was actually wrong? Six or seven? There were certainly seven demons now, so that meant six angels and that extra hellspawn . . . . didn't it? As she drifted off to sleep, Mai made a mental note to talk again to her angel contact about it all.
Mai had originally met Simeon by chance in the Grand Celestial Library's research archives. Under the eyes of a censorious archivist and deep down in the dusty stacks, it had been a joy to meet someone else who had an interest in her subject. He was the first and only angel Mai had befriended and while he'd already evaded many of her questions, he'd been happy to openly answer others and she had hopes that when they met for lunch in a few days time she might find some kind of answer.
*****
Frowning sadly at her over his tea cup, Simeon shook his head. “I've told you before Mai, I cannot answer these questions. No-one currently from the Celestial Realm can answer these questions.”
Mai sighed and smiled “Last time It seemed very much to me that you wanted to answer them so I thought it might be worth trying again.”
“It’s not a question of “wanting” to answer,” replied Simeon gravely, “There is a geas in place that prohibits any current Celestial citizen from discussing these events with mortals. Now let us turn to something more important, have you considered my suggestion regarding the exchange program?”
Blinking a little at whiplash from the ridiculously fast change of subject, Mai shrugged, “I don’t think there’s any point. At this stage they are asking for undergrads, I have my degree. I don’t want to mess about with something that’s going to derail my career. Besides, researching these questions around the Celestial Civil War is more important than . . .”
“Tch,” Simeon interrupted, exasperated. Looking Mai squarely in the eye he held her tightly by her shoulders and slowly spoke. “No current Celestial will answer your questions. I cannot give you any information that will help you find answers. However, I have a form here. All filled out. You need to sign and submit it. I am sure if you do so, you will stop asking me all these questions I cannot answer.”
Openmouthed Mai looked at him a moment, blushing as realisation dawned. “I’m a fool aren’t I?”
Simeon grinned and ruffled her hair affectionately, “No, you’re just a bit single-minded, that’s all. Just make sure that when you write your own record of the true history, you cover everything. It is beyond time for this to be made right."
Skimming through the form, Mai stopped, “Umm, Sim, some of these details are wrong - I have a degree remember - and you got my date of birth wrong. I mean the day and month is right but I’m three years older than you’ve said.”
Grabbing at the form, Simeon frantically flipped through to the last page. “Sign it, please just sign it - they’re only details, it’s pretty close right?” Simeon’s face was pleading, nervous, his expression settled somewhere between hopeful and guilty.
“Simeon, is something going on?
Exasperated with himself, Simeon puffed out his cheeks in a long exhale. “Yeeees, sort of. It’s just that Uriel is in charge of selection this year and he won’t choose you if you don’t strictly meet the criteria. Honestly you’re the best non-magical candidate for the program and this is the best opportunity for you to learn what you want to know.” His expression finally settled onto miserable guilt. “I don't like this, but I just want something that should happen to actually happen. That’s all.”
Mai smiled and patted his hand reassuringly, “You’re a good soul. I promise I won’t let anyone know how you’ve helped me.” Signing the form, Mai handed it back to the now eager angel and as he placed a hand on it, it vanished completely, submitted without any fuss.
“Done!” he chirped cheerfully, “Now let’s celebrate! You are going to have an incredible year.”
******
After they'd finished lunch and Mai had left the cafe, Simeon made a call. Any casual eavesdropper might have overheard as follows:
“Solomon. Hi, it’s me. You know, Simeon. The angel. That Simeon.”
“. . . . .”
“Oh. How did you know it was me?”
“. . . .”
“Really? What is caller ID anyway?”
“. . . . “
“Oh. Nevermind, too complicated. Mai signed the forms and I’ve submitted them. The rest is up to you.”
“. . . .”
“No, I don’t want to know what you’re planning to do. It probably breaks all the rules and I’m feeling bad enough about this as it is.”
“. . . .”
“Well.” At this point, the casual eavesdropper may have noticed that Simeon sounded somewhat tetchy. “I know it’s necessary. I wouldn’t be doing even this much if it weren’t necessary.”
“. . . ."
“And you'll be contacting the Devildom to let them know?”
“. . . .”
“Fine. I’ll see you back at the Hall when the academic year resumes. Goodbye.”
Simeon hung up the phone, looking troubled. Was this how an angel fell?
It had to start somewhere after all and he’d always firmly believed that if one were prepared to do a bad thing for a good reason it was only a short step to doing a bad thing for a bad reason. Lying on official forms to manipulate exchange student selection. Was this what the slippery slope felt like?
*******
Solomon was shaking his head as he hung up from Simeon’s call. The day that angel really got the hang of mobile phones was going to be worth celebrating. Probably with cake.
Now he was going to have to contact the Devildom soon to let Diavolo know of their progress. Sighing Solomon decided he might as well wait. Mai was only one of several historians who may prove useful. The selection panel met in two days and he’d be magically assessing and screening the shortlisted candidates within the following week. It made much more sense to update Diavolo on the progress of their plan after the screening.
After all, there was no point in getting everyone’s hopes up only to dash them again in a week’s time in the likely event that none of the prospective exchange students proved suitable. Ten years into the program and Solomon was starting to wonder if they’d ever find the right candidate for their particular purposes.