• The dank smell of mold and dampened air stung his nose; an ever-present reminder of where he was. He was used to the smell, really. Used to the cold chains wrapped around his wrists and the solemn stone floor. Yes, Kell was used to being imprisoned. After all, it was part of being a thief, and normally he would have no problem with this situation but this time was different.

    In any other situation he would have no trouble freeing himself from the cell. All he needed to do was fiddle with the lock a bit, and then he was free. But this time was different. The lock was a complex one-a type he had never seen before. And even if it was a familiar lock, there were no tools he could possibly use. The guards had stripped him bare before putting him into his cell, making sure he had nothing to work with. Once inside the cell, Kell made sure to check everything in hopes that a previous cellmate might've left behind some picklocking tools, but his search was fruitless.

    For the first time in a long while, Kell was scared, but not at the fact that there was no escape. Rather, it was the man who had thrown him in here in the first place. A man who knew all of his tricks. The man who had taught him all of those tricks. A man that Kell had admired, respected and trusted with his life. The same man who had taken that trust and buried it under horrible deeds. The man's name was Valerian, and he was once Kell's mentor.

    The thought was disturbing to the sixteen-year old. Valerian had ceased to be his mentor a long time ago. As far as he was concerned, Kell's mentor was a different person. A good person. Not the monster that Valerian was.

    The noise of an unlocking door brought Kell out of his reverie. Raising his head a little he watched as a fur-lined boot slowly stepped into the cell. In the dim light, Kell could just barely make out the shape of a man. He continued to watch the man, eyes following him as he closed the cell door and stepped towards him. Kell's chains tingled slightly as he raised his head to meet the other's gaze. The man was standing over him now, the close proximity allowing Kell to just barely make out his face. A snarl tugged at his lips as he regarded the man above him.

    "Valerian." He growled. His voice was scratchy and rough after days with no water, but it did not lessen the intimidating tone he spoke with. He felt Valerian's eyes run up and down his naked body, and he could practically hear the b*****d's thoughts.

    "Hello, Kellinian. You've grown...into quite the amazing man." Valerian reached out while he spoke, stroking Kell's cheek with eerily loving touch. Kell responded by pulling his head away, spitting on the man's feet. Valerian frowned slightly, glimpsing at the spittle on the stone floor. Sighing, he kneeled down so that his face was only a few inches away from Kell's. Grabbing the boy by the hair, he drew out a knife from beneath his fur cloak and held it against his throat.

    "I see you've lost some manners, since I last saw you." He whispered harshly. He pushed the blade a bit deeper into Kell's skin, taking pleasure in the thin sliver of blood that steadily ran from the cut.

    Kell chuckled-a dry, humorless laugh that caused Valerian's frown to become more apparent. "You're one to talk," he said. "Last I knew, you greeted an old friend by shaking their hand, not by burning their house down while their best friend was still inside."

    "Marcus deserved to die."

    Kell's face fell, burning hatred slowly creeping into his eyes. Valerian had pulled back his blade now, storing it once again beneath his cloak. Kell watched him, hoping his fiery rage would burn through the other's black, crippled heart. Valerian looked up, his gaze cold and dangerous and altogether utterly unaffected by his prisoner's gaze.

    A pregnant pause and then: "What did you say?"

    "I said: 'Marcus deserved to die.' He was an obstacle; a temporary boulder blocking my way to you." Valerian's voice was bitter as he spoke, as if even speaking of the dead man was tainting his tongue.

    The hatred that was present in Kell's eyes quickly washed through his whole body. Ignoring his chained hands, Kell lunged himself at the crouching man, tackling him to the ground. Quickly, he wrapped his hands around Valerian's throat a mixture of hatred, sadness and anger painted upon his face.

    "Don't you ever-ever!-say that again, or I swear I will rip out your throat and feed it to the city dogs!" His hoarse voice was strained as he yelled at Valerian. His hands were shaking, and Kell could feel tears sting his eyes. Why was he crying? How come he couldn't kill this man who had hurt him and the ones around him? Tears ran down his face, dripping onto Valerian's fur cloak. "I'll kill you! I'll kill you for what you've done to me!" He shouted half-heartedly, trying to convince himself that he really would kill this man. His grip around Valerian's neck loosened as he repeated the words over and over to the man beneath him. Over and over and over and ov-

    His eyes widened in surprise as a knife buried itself in his side. Pushing Kell off of him, Valerian withdrew his knife, stood, and dusted himself off. Kell stumbled back, tears still slowly trickling down his face. His hands were clamped tightly over the painful, but non-fatal wound, stopping the blood. Valerian regarded his pupil with a concerned sadness as he hid the blade once more beneath the cloak.

    "I didn't think our first meeting would be a pleasant one, Kell. But I do hope that you'll rid yourself of your foolish thoughts someday soon." A pregnant pause. Kell stared blankly at the floor, his eyes glazed over with astonishment, sadness and confusion. Valerian sighed, turning and opening the cell door. Before he left, he turned back for one last look at the stunned boy. "I love you, Kell, but I'm not afraid to hurt you in order to get you to see the truth." No reply. "I'll have a guard come down with bandages." He said, locking the door behind him as he left.

    Kell sat in silence for a while, tears streaming down his face. As the pain began to subside and the wound slowed its bleeding, the thief pulled his knees to his face. Bloody hands wrapped around his legs tight as he rested his forehead on his knees. His body shuddered as he sobbed.

    "I'm sorry, Marcus." He said meekly. "I couldn't kill him this time. But I will. I'll kill him."