If Minagh had any idea he'd be walking and sailing for 4 months, he'd have told that God damned demon to go fuck itself. Finally though, after so long of moving and camping, he had arrived at the city of Calcutta in India.

"Argh..." Minagh said, looking out at the city. "Finally. Ugh, my legs..."

He sat down on the ground on the side of the road and took off his boots. They had been badly damaged by the constant walking and as soon as he took off his left boot, the sole fell off and threw up a small tuft of dust as it hit the ground.

"That's not good," Minagh muttered to himself. He took off the other boot and picked up the scraps in his arms, then stuffed them into his bag. He would dispose of them later.

As he stood with bare feet he noticed eyes upon him from several Indian men. Minagh felt off about their gaze before he remembered where he was: India, or the British Raj to those where Minagh was from. Here he'd be seen as little more than an invader taking what he desired. He would not make any friends here easily given his complexion.

Minagh took his other boot off, then gathered his ruined footwear and stuffed them into his bag. He stood, his feet warming in the dirt beneath him. So, he was in India... now what? He had no other direction other than to come to India. He knew no one here, and he was an outsider, an invader, a conqueror, in the eyes of those that called this city home. But, he had made the tiresome journey, and he needed new shoes if he was going to get anywhere else.

Minagh entered the city, trying not to imagine how often the path had been cleared of animal feces and other detritus. He walked past stalls on the road, British troops patrolling, Indian citizens unsure of his presence, and animals just wandering freely.

What was he going to do?

"You!" said a boisterous Indian man behind a stall, pointing at Minagh. Minagh stopped, cocking his brow, then walked over.

"Are you who I'm here to see?" Minagh said bluntly. The merchant nodded, not entirely understanding the statement.

"You need shoes, yes? I have shoes. I have many things. Look!"

The man began to show Minagh boots of varying qualities, but the Irishman's eyes began to shift to something behind the merchant. A soft, dull glow from underneath a rug. It was pink, and soon, it was all Minagh was paying attention to. What was that?

"Oh..." the man said, walking to the rug. "You like?"

"What's under the rug?" Minagh asked, looking at the man properly. It was here the man's facade faded.

"It is nothing, friend. Not illegal, not-"

"I'm not with Britain," Minagh said quietly. "To be honest, they can go to hell. I'll buy some shoes... if you show me what's under the rug."

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Emboldened by the promise of a sale, the merchant complied. He turned his back to Minagh, lifted the rug slowly, then produced a glass jar corked at the top. But it was what was inside that Minagh found most interesting.

Inside was a woman, maybe eight inches tall, with soft pink wings the colour of a ballerina's slipper and hair to match, cut short in jagged layers over her face. Her skin was nut brown, and her eyes were pools of a brighter pink, almost like taffy. She wore a dress that might have been made of leaves, still green despite the heat and looking worn. She looked at Minagh, and shouted in the jar, muted by the glass.

"Impressive, no?" the merchant said. "A... fairy, I think you call it. They are real, my friend! Now, shoes!"

Minagh quickly dropped his entire wallet on the table. "I want her."

"Oh, she is not for sale, my friend," the merchant said, quickly hiding her under the rug again. "She is precious to me."

"She's alive," Minagh said. "You are holding her like a prisoner."

"Like your Britain holds us?" the merchant retorted, clearly getting angry. Minagh's eyes narrowed.

"I am not with them. I told you that. But what you just said means you are just as bad as them!"

People were stopping, beginning to take note of the argument. The merchant took the wallet and threw Minagh the boots he had bought.

"Leave!"

"No," Minagh said, holding the boots in one hand. "Give me what I want. Now."

As Minagh grew angrier, the merchant took notice that Minagh's brown eyes flashed violet, his veins bulged in his arms, and his hair seemed to billow without wind. But he stood his ground, instead beginning to pack his stall up.

"You will not rob me!"

"You just robbed me. These boots aren't worth 600 pounds!"

A guard walked over, and placed his hand on Minagh's shoulder. "Is there a prob-"

Minagh, in his anger, turned around and laid a heavy punch into the guard's face. His eyes became violet proper, and the guard flew back as if hit by a steam piston, his skull crumpling. There was a scream, then pandemonium. The merchant knelt before Minagh, clearly afraid.

"Please don't kill me," he said, but Minagh ignored him. He walked over to the rug, ripped it away and grabbed the jar with the imprisoned fairy. Then, he turned on the spot and ran... but faster than he was used to. He made out of the street like a galloping horse, barely missing people and other objects, and stopped in an alleyway a good kilometer away from the panic.

Minagh knelt down, looking at the fairy inside, then he took the lid off the jar, tossing it aside. The fairy, very slowly, climbed out and sat on the rim as he held it.

"Do you speak English?" Minagh asked.

"I do," she responded. "I hope you don't think I grant wishes."

Minagh smirked. "No. I just... I saw you in the jar and I wanted to get you out. That's all. You're free now."

Minagh gently set the jar down and sat down as well, putting on his very expensive boots since he'd left his wallet there. The fairy watched him, clearly unsure if he was being truthful. Then, Minagh stood and walked out of the alleyway. She watched him leave, before taking off into the sky to continue watching him.

Minagh walked back to the edge of the city. He wasn't going to find a guide here... but he found more proof there was more to the world than he knew. He continued to walk, leading the fairy to the wilderness.

When he began to set up his camp again, she made herself known, landing on the ground in his vision. He wasn't surprised, or made an effort to capture her. He held out the last of his jerky, an offering of food.

"You're not like other humans, are you?" the fairy asked, taking off a minuscule piece of jerky.

"I don't think so anymore," Minagh said. "That weird Markotet guy said I'd get power, but I didn't expect to have... speed and strength like this..."

The name rang a bell with the fairy. "Markotet? You're sure that was the name?"

Minagh nodded and the fairy smiled, though this was difficult to see. She flew over to his face so he could she hers in detail. If she was human sized, Minagh might have made a pass at her before he'd met Clementine.

"I'm Frostpetal," she said, keeping her eyes on his.

"Minagh."

"Well, Minagh," she said. "What do you know about our world?"