"No, please! I won't do it again!" The boy hurried down the grim, gray corridor after the imposing man, who walked purposefully towards the boy's room.
"I'm serious. I'll be on time from now on!" The boy passed the man and stood in front of his bedroom door barring the way. The man didn't answer, he simply put his hands on the boy's shoulders and firmly moved him aside. He then entered and began methodically pulling books off of shelves and stacking them into a large basket.
"Father, please!" The boy desperately grabbed his father's hand. "Give me another chance."
"I don't believe in second chances Këj, you know that."
"But, Father-"
"And besides, books aren't helpful. They fill your head with nonsense and questions."
"Questions show that you're thinking, though."
"Thinking isn't any good for an assassin or a bounty hunter. All it does is get you killed." Këj's father turned to go but paused at the door. "Remember this, son, our way is not to think and question, but to survive."
"To survive...yes, Father." The boy bit his lip as his father left but added softly to himself: "But survival without beauty...it doesn't seem to have meaning." He slumped down on the concrete floor and dropped his head into his hands. "What is beauty anyway? Why do I care about whether it's here or not? All it seems to do is get me in trouble. But still..." As the winter evening shadows grew his eyes closed and he slept.
He dreamed that spring had come and the chill, musty compound had been opened up to let the fresh breezes cleanse the stale air. The perfume of life purified the darkness and dispelled the deathly silence.
Then, the scene changed. Fires had sprung up and everything was burning. Këj saw people running to-and-fro and tried to help them, but he found that he couldn't move nor utter a sound, but could only watch as all he knew turned to ash.
The fire was over. The world, as far as he could see, was scorched and barren. Picking his way through charred rubble Këj finally came upon a single snow-white flower. As he bent to pluck it, beings of fire surrounded him and snatched at the blossom which shone like a star in that gray world. Këj found himself protecting the flower although he couldn't think why he should. Then he lay on the ground beside it. The fire beings were gone, but he could see his blood staining the ash crimson. He reached for the flower and suddenly it was in his hand and its center was shot with red.
Suddenly he felt a hand and a knife against his throat. He half woke up and instinctively kicked out, feeling his foot connect with someone's midriff and hearing the startled, winded gasp and the clatter of the blade onto the floor as his attacker fell forward onto him. He opened his eyes, grabbed the knife, and flipped his assailant onto the floor in the same breath. In less than a blink of an eye, he had his knee across the other's chest and the knife at the other's throat. "Who are you?" He shook his hair out of his face.
"Who do you think I am, idiot?"
Këj's eyes widened. "Assis?"
