Rich beams of sunlight flood each and every  crevice of the beautifully vivid rainbow of colour that embrace the boy's vision. He was running, running flat out, sprinting even, toward a sight that had rested into such routine that it felt like habit to his eyes. Ahead of him, lay the classic garden playground. Freshly mowed grass hung comfortably upon the ground, and the scent of the sweet floating tendrils was delight to Haksha's nostrils. An ocean of blue, yellow and green lay in front of him - a climbing frame. Attached was a lean and strong swing which could propel Haksha and his four brothers high into the sky, making them feel like kings of their natural world. To his left, peacefully lay a merry-go-round which spun them round so fast that they were dizzy with glee by the time the final gyration collapsed. And lastly, the most popular of them all, the gigantic mirror-colour slide, winking rich sunlight that beamed from a cloudless sky.

It was a very warm day in Anukonia, and Haksha played in shorts alone, his dark brown skin glowing with health and happiness. He was eight years old, and the imaginary games he often played with his similarly dressed ten year old twin brothers Raika and Raiku were never not involving at least one of the three main establishments of the grassland. Haksha couldn't remember a day where they didn't pretend to be lords of the castle, or alien invaders, or knights rescuing a princess from a viscous and ferocious battle.

Sometimes their four year old brother Pika would chase after them, trying his upmost best to be like his brothers. He invariably was the princess who needed saving, or the dragon which needed slaying, but just for fun. 

Surrounding the boys was a gigantic fence, which marked the end of the mini pocket of paradise. Haksha's father frequently ventured into the land beyond the fence, for his work and his labours. From what Haksha had learned from listening in on conversations between his mother and father, he worked in some sort of position of power and had a lot  of responsibility. 

Haksha's mother Leila dutifully took care of the children. The boys could glimpse her now, watching over them. She was guarding their innocence of course, with frequent smiles and words of warning whenever she thought one of the boys were about to enter even the tiniest bit of peril. She had always been very astute at noticing these moments, and only she knew how to appreciate this skill. None of her sons had ever broken, or even twisted a limb, despite their constant yearning for danger and adventure.

Leila was a very knowledgeable woman, and acted as the grand headmistress of the school that the boys attended; their brightly coloured living room being the only classroom. Despite having to juggle the learning of four, eight and ten year olds, she had quickly taught Raiku, Raika and Haksha advanced reading and thoroughly decent mathematical capability. Partially this was because all three boys were extremely intelligent. In addition, the boys had not only learned Anukan (the regional language), but also Pagean (the universal language) which was spoken across the world, most significantly by the wealthy super powerful countries that lived to the North East of the world map. 

Leila's protective nature made her a great mother, and a great nurturer. But an extremely protective nature holds fatal flaws: she was extremely fearful to expose her sons to the harsh reality of Anukonia, whose poverty stretched endlessly in all directions around the luscious enclave which the family had buried themselves inside of. Leila rarely let her sons out of the land near their house, and when she was forced to set them free into the real world, she would ensure that they were well-distracted from the seemingly infinite poverty. 

She was just tying some of the boys' freshly cleaned washing out upon the outdoor clothes line when the slam of a door inside the house jolted her into awareness of a newcomer  entering their midst. Except, upon investigation, it was not a newcomer. Not at all. Leila recognized the looming dark figure whose eyes glinted darkly with the weary blackness of experience.

She didn't know why he was there, but she knew who those eyes belonged to: her eldest son, Zeek.

"What do you want?"