Reverberating chants echoed against the glazed walls of santuario divino. Samehn didnot know what that word meant but his surroundings told him this was a place of worship, '' was what his fair skinned superiors used to address this building. The language was not his own, he had been forced to learn it after coming to this place.

  The chants were in English, also not his language but atleast he knew enough of it to go about his daily life here. It was also partly thanks to t his that he was chosen from twenty thousand others to leave home and come to this place.

  It couldn't have been too many months since he had arrived in this foreign land, but then again he had no way of ascertaining how many days had elapsed.

  He found his predicament embarrassing. At first he had tried counting the days–that was easy ofcourse–all he had to do was use a sharp object to carve a mark on his room's wall–sharp object could hardly be called rare here– but either due to his tight schedule or the psychological pressure he had given up on that after the twenty-first day.

  Three weeks is all it took for him to start losing himself, he was still better off than most if his peers though who had completely lost their sanity within a week.

  He knew his father would be disappointed in him, 'Real men donot let their minds play games with them', he would frown and say. All while looking down on Samehn with unkind eyes, but he wondered whether his father would still hold true to that opinion if he were here in Samehn's place.

  Samehn was born to a family of hassasins. His ancesters had served in the Persian court, they were the empire's blood hounds. His lineage was one that he was immensely proud of and thus had deigned to join the foremost criminal organisation of the world.

  He thought he made a decent assasin himself, atleast enough to be ranked among the second best if not the best but he couldn't have been more mistaken. Upon his arrival he had to start from the lowest rungs. But he never harboured resentmen—rather he couldn't harbour any. The only sentiment that he felt during his time here was fear.

  Samehn stood to the side, among the ranks of the low files– 'sewer rats' as referred to by the upper ranks. Their heads bowed and postures stiff as if invisible chains clung to their limbs rendering them as immobile as corpses frozen in time.

  Slavery had long been abolished in the civilized world but this was a place the outside world could never touch. It was like an immiscible realm housed inside a dome that separated it from the rest of civilisation.

  A criminal organisation through and through yet to all exterior appearances it left no impression of being one.

  The buildings all donned white exteriors, the plastered walls shone when the rays of the summer sun bounced off of them. Spring breeze carried the sweet scent of chestnut and the golden brown branches swayed in their own tranquil rhythm, tranquil yet unbending to perturbations.

  Under different circumstances such a place could be called a paradise on earth, Samehn would have acknowledged it as one too had he not been all too familiar with the souls residing in the interior.

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  Samehn's living quarter was one such whitewashed building, he had been ecstatic when he first saw all while inwardly jeering at the serenity of the place. He held true to the opinion that assasins should be merciless and crude in their ways, violence should be their law. Only after spending a week here did he realise what violence truly meant.

  The insides of the buildings were constructed like fortifications, each room had sturdy soundproof walls with only one exit. No rooms were to be shared among two or more people. Samehn found this arrangement wasteful afterall each room had ample space for four., he thought. As for the exits? Well they had were unlocked by traditional lock and key, no elaborate arrangements.

  He remembered asking the warden for the keys and receiving a disapproving glance as reply. That was the first ill omen, the second one was his friend's mutilated corpse, ravaged by hounds on the following morning after he snuck into his room the night before –using a pin for the key hole.

  There were no artificial lights within his room, after nightfall a looming silence descended over the entire complex even the night birds dared not utter a sound. Over time regulations got stricter, capital punishment was issued for speaking out of turn, speaking too much, creating noise after curfew etc. Nobody knew when punishment would descend, most of the stringent rules weren't explicitly jotted down. The warden apparently had unrestrained prerogative over their lives. The killings too were open secrets, most of the convicted just disappeared, the luckier ones could have their friends identify their corpses at the foot of a cliff or drowned in a pond and get some form of burial. All deaths were recorded as accidents due to unfamiliar terrain

  During morning hours Samehn and his fellow mates had lessons in italian. They initially hadn't been familiar with each other as only one person each was chosen from each region but had inevitably grown closer owing to their shared predicament. All communications they had with each other was during these lessons. Later they had combat training and shooting practice where speaking was not allowed.

  All traces of sentience disappeared after the sky darkened, the silence, sharper and more invasive than the sharpest of blades was enough to drive people to insanity. The soundproof walls trapped all wailings inside. Having been a perpetrator his entire life, Samehn had never felt more like his sorry victims.

  Finally a day arrived when the torturous monotony was broken, today was the crowing ceremony, or so they had been briefed by the warden. The heir apparent was to be designated so by offering a ritual to the 'creator'.

  Samehn was a theist but only in name, he never associated great meaning with the concept of god to him, his trade was his true God the only object that ruled his conscience. If it had been the Samehn of a few months ago, he would have looked down on such worship. What right did a horde of criminals have to pray for mercy and peace. But all questions dissolved in his gut before seeing the light of day while facing that devilish warden.

  The sanctuario divino was different from the other buildings, it was the only building that was not white washed. Sculptures portraying exaggerated depictions of violence lined the walls both on the interiors and exterior. Samehn didnot know whether it was because of the translucent black gauze covering his eyes that his surroundings appeared so wan and grey. All the other lowfiles beside him had similar predicaments, it was to emphasize that they were slaves who saw nothing but what their masters willed them to see. What did his master will him to see? Light of emancipation? Definitely not!

  Samehn had been to places of worship before and he felt that this one was thoroughly unlike one. In the colossal edifice with its exquisitely carved walls, majestic dome and squadrons of meticulously lined mortals there was no radiance to speak of, no no...he felt the atmosphere too solemn, this was a place where no one ever smiled....save perhaps one.

  Glass paned windows let in scant rays of diffused sunlight, which in turn illuminated the carnage depicted in the walls and at the foremost end stood the 'creator'. Although 'stood' is wrong, it be more appropriate to say 'sprawled' on the wall. Through the sheen of his black gauze he could barely makeout the face of the ginormous sculpture, a mangled mess of flesh and eyes was all he saw.

  Samehn felt that compared to that, the celestial being up ahead looked more seraphic. The only speck of radiance in the wan and soulless hall. Untainted by the degeneracy of the place they stood in. Despite his impaired vision he thought he saw a smile on that face one that reached their eyes.

  A youth of less than sixteen years, draped from heat to toe in a white tux, a mantle fdraped over their shoulders–inland in silver. Samehn couldn't discern whether the youth was a boy or a girl, their features–as Samehn indistinctly observed– were neither too feminine or too manly. He deduced it must be a boy, women were rare in this trade. Rare yet not obsolete. Samehn felt it'd be a shame to assign a mortal gender to such an entity, if anything they appeared closer to God than either of the mortal sexes. The other tenants of the hall shared similar thoughts.

  The youth's path was obstructed by a row of nuns dressed in black habit. Unrelenting they towered, displeasure written all over their faces. The two forces were at a stalemate, neither side willing to concede.

  The most imposing nun at the middle thundered imperously, her deepset eyes darkening like clouds before a storm. Samehn caught the gist of the exchange spoken in italian

  'YOU! Who do you think you are? tainting the sanctity of the creator!'

  By all means any adult facing such vehement reprimand ought to be intimidated. Yet the white garbed Celeste stood unshaken, their smile never once wavering.

  The youth didn't need to reply though as the very next second a man standing upfront, dressed in lavish formal wear went down on one knee in an elegant motion as he declared 'greetings milord heir'. Subsequently all the others including Samehn fell to their knees, echoing the declaration.

  The youth turned away from the nuns to address the crowd of people kneeling before his feet. It was in this way that he replied to the head-nun's question.

  'I am Ah-vah', they replied and declared. In a voice that was neither too shrill or too grave yet it resounded clearly in the ears of everyone present.