"You are convicted of the crime as a traitor to the Ascendancy Agency." The Head of Security scowled at him, practically spitting those words at him in disgust. Jonek did not need to be a mind-reader to guess what he must be thinking of him, for he exuded pure hatred.

Jonek knew that the Head of Security must be wondering how someone could ever betray the Agency especially when their cause was a brave and good one, but what everyone didn't know was that this was not the truth.

It was a lie.

Yet, he was not surprised that the real culprit had put the blame on him. This- becoming a scapegoat- was something he had expected all along. Frankly, he couldn't care less for himself or his safety, and yet he knew that he ought to at least try and defend himself or share his theories with his interrogator and torturer.

It was really cruel of the Agency to make the young lad, Maren Santos, his interrogator. Though he did not bear any love for the lad, he felt that Maren was a good guy, someone who was capable of great things as long as he was guided in the right path. He liked Maren's hesitancy before he came to execute certain decisions for it showed that he considered everything thoroughly.

Jonek sat in his jail cell, not minding the grime and dirt of it. After all, before he had become more actively involved in the Agency's missions, he had always remained in his dilapidated residence back at Alara's home. His own house was barely a house, let alone a home.

Jonek grinned to himself when he recalled the first time his precious goddaughter had paid an impromptu visit. The look of shock on her face when she noticed the complete lack of furniture and food was extremely amusing to him. There was little doubt in his mind that she had expected him to have a stock of a carton of eggs, fresh herbs and water for they were things that he often brought along whenever he visited her.

Eggs had always been a rarity for them as there was always a low stock of them. Clean water was easier- the black market's top five popular products sold were water, costing five tears. Herbs was something he never bought, thanks to Alara's gift for herbalism.

And now, poison too, reflected Jonek as his mind thought of the day when he had passed by the laboratory. Tania de Allura and Alara had been working together, laughing merrily while they joked as they experimented with various herbs and poisons.

If I die, at least I can die knowing that my goddaughter is happy and adapted well to this new life. Valesque will take care of her well.

One of the reasons why he was reluctant to engage a lawyer or defend himself was because firstly, he could not afford one. The other reason was after deliberating what would hurt Alara more when she regained consciousness. He was concerned that his sensitive Alara would be heartbroken when she found out that he was still being relentlessly abused and persecuted while she was still recuperating from her peracute wounds; or that he was dead from torture.

Worse still what if someone reported to her about his whereabouts when she regained consciousness? If she knew that he was being mistreated during his interrogation after confessing to his crimes as a traitor, as a mole hindered her road to recovery, he would never forgive himself.

Besides, Jonek knew Valesque well. One did not have to meet or be with someone physically to get a good judgement on their character. At least, not for him. They had been in contact for so many years that Jonek knew Valesque well enough that the moment one of his pawns could possibly drag him down from his tight hold on his fragile power, that pawn will be discarded as soon as possible.

Jonek had witnessed this discarding several times. He was often given the role as the Messenger to the Assassin of the Agency to deliver the information as to who the Assassin's next target was. That was how Valesque got rid of moles or spies that were not known publicly for the Assassin's methods of killing were ingenious ones.

The most undesirable role of all. To be an Assassin would render that person to become as soulless as a corpse and haunted by the deaths of those they have murdered forever.

Deep down, Jonek was aware that he would end up dead either way. For others, the best way to die was a peaceful one with all of their business settled.

For others, it was to die in a dreamless sleep.

For others, a natural and painless death was best.

All these 'ideal' ways to pass on all had one attribute in common: peace.

I would like to pass away peacefully too. For that to happen, the hurt his goddaughter would feel when the news was delivered to her must not be too intense.

If he died a traitor, it served as a reason for his death and closure for Alara. It certainly would hurt less compared to her knowing that he had to die as his purpose was to serve as someone else's scapegoat.

So, he confessed his sins as a traitor.

The hands of his executioner one was thuggish and full of calluses, and Jonek noted that the executioner was extremely muscular.

How many people did he have to execute to be able to gain that much muscle mass? How much of a toll does his job weigh upon his soul? God bless him- he certainly never asked for such a tragical occupation.

The executioner forced his head down on a wooden stump, and his head hit it a tad too hard, for Jonek could feel a sticky liquid starting to ooze out. The tension in the field of the Agency was so thick that you could slice and serve it on a plate. They've already drawn the first blood- I imagine that they'll do well as a phlebotomist.

Thank you, Valesque. Gazing out, Jonek closed his eyes and breathed in the fresh air, enjoying the blasts of cool wind as it brushed past his face. He smiled when he felt the wind ruffling his hair up messily, the same way young Alara would when she was a wee child. As he opened his eyes, he looked not at the wrathful crowd, but at the picturesque view of the serene azure sky and lush greenery of the field. If one looks far enough, one could be blessed with the sight of towering mountains that were coated with snow. It was a sight to behold.

So is my hometown, but it is too far to be seen from here. His one regret was that his last visit to the Grittie Market was when he confronted Alara about her supposed 'eloping'. How things have changed now in just a mere blink of an eye. Still, he was thankful that at least in his mind, he could envision the old bustling crowd; the old Denica selling her jewellery; his clumsy and senile friend, Larken, collecting rocks and piling them in unsteadily on his desk.

He winced at that. He detested whenever Larken did that, for the rocks often collapsed in a matter of seconds and often fell in a rowdy fashion. Larken often got a puerile kick out of his reaction whenever the bulbous rocks fell in a Domingo fashion for Jonek tended to groan and wince as rowdiness was something he detested.

You stupid fool, Larken. I'll prepare an abundance of rocks in Heaven, so come find me when you're ninety. Don't meet an early grave like me, old friend.

A tear slipped out of his eyes when he saw a majestic dove flying in the azure sky, its long wings spreading out carefreely and flew in such a liberating manner that Jonek wanted to do the same thing too. No wonder Lara loved doves so much when she was younger.

"What's that, Jonek?" He looked to his right, and was pleasantly surprised to see a young Lara kneeling by his side as she pointed at the dove, her eyes full of curiosity.

"A dove, Lara."

"A dove? Wow. It looks so peaceful! I want to be a dove when I grow up."

Jonek could not help but laugh at the girl's childlike innocence. "Doves happen to be a symbol of peace, you know."

"Wow, really?"

He nodded his head feebly, kissing Lara's small hand as tears streamed down his face. "Really. You're my dove, Lara." He rasped that last part chokedly, and his heart broke when the figment of his little girl vanished.

Clinging on to the old memory of his goddaughter, he was ready.

"What are your last words?"

"Please be kind to me. Forgive our sins and forgive the traitor. Understand the traitor has their motives and pitiful circumstances that led them to this. Take care of my kin. Though they are not of my bloodline, take care of them when I cannot."

Her hand jerked.

"I am sorry." Jonek bowed his head solemnly.

The heart rate monitored and started beeping rapidly, as if it was in a state of distress.

The executioner snorted and swung his axe.

Her eyelids fluttered, as if trying to open them.

Jonek took his last breath as the axe swung for a final time.

Her fingers were tapping now, and she was struggling. And then...

The sharp blade sliced his head off in one quick motion. Swift and deadly.

Her brown eyes flew open, wide.

"Take my necklace... go into my room... it's the key to a chest in my room on how to build Transcendence and other inventions..."

"Nothing you say will make me leave Rielle..."

"Go Alara GO!"

Fire everywhere, soot in her lungs.

Her hands scratched furiously at something... dirt... no, a human? Am I in combat now?

Fire.

"ALARA! Alara, can you hear me, it's me, Maren..." A ragged sob. A warm caress on her cheek.

I need to save them... help them...