Level Fourteen

Chapter Twelve: Arkin

It is said that when your brain sees something that shocks you to your very core; your very being, you cannot fully comprehend it there and then. You need time and deep breathing to fully understand the images your eyes are relaying to your brain.
This was the case with Arkin; he could not wrap his head around what stood before him in his father's chambers. The tale untwisted in the next few seconds as the assassin, who was posed over his father's neck with a wicked blade, twisted to see him standing in the doorway. The assassin swore with such colorful language, Arkin's stomach did a little flip. But the blade was then sent on a downward never ending sweep and across his father's neck.
Arkin was unaware he'd even made a noise until that black, cloaked head shot upright and the figure was leaping across the bed and room to silence him. Arkin was also unaware he had move, his feet carrying him much closer to this dangerous and morbid person than he liked. The figure hissed, pulling back the same blade that had caused his father's death. It was stained red in the light. A deep, rich crimson that held so much pain and darkness. A single drop lipped off the edge and splashed onto the white floor.
Arkin became enraged. He struck out his hand and the figure shied to the left, but not before his fingers grasped the edge of it's cowl and pulled. The hood slipped off revealing a female. A female his age. Black hair shone in the night and cold, unforgiving glowing blue orbs stared back at him. Her eyes narrowed into slits.
"You foolish little wretch. Now I'll have to kill you along side your Senator." He stood like a stone as she brought her blade to his chin. But then there were voices, coming down the hallway. Guards, they'd been alerted somehow. Swearing again, the girl grabbed Arkin by the back of his shirt and jabbed him in the neck. Arkin shuddered in pain and convulsed. Then his body went limp and his vision slowly faded to black.