Murni’s kite soars into the Malaysian skies. A heavy wind pulls it out to sea, its streamers spiraling up like red dragons with elongated tails. A line of low clouds look like smudges of white paint against a sky-blue canvas. The mid-day sun burns hot.

“Fly far into the wind,” Murni yells to the face on the kite. She holds the string with her left hand and pulls her black hair back with her right. “Take me with you above the clouds!”

“Don’t think there are no crocodiles because the water is calm,” her father says. “Remember the spirits of the sunken city are always watching.”

“It’s just a story,” she says. “There’s no sunken city! You joke!”

Her father closes his eyes and slowly raises his hands above his head. His multi-colored robe blows against an angry gust of wind as the water parts and the sunken city begins to emerge. Buildings, huts, and a crystal palace rise above the water and continue to rise into the sky. He opens his eyes and looks at her as the spirits of the city go about their business.