He had no doubt who “she” was. The rumors of a Templar woman—more scholar than soldier, more ghost than woman—had haunted Cyprus for a month. Her name was a whisper: Alexia . She did not seek power. She sought understanding. And that, Altaïr knew, was far more dangerous.
Kyros’s eyes darted to a small iron chest by his feet. “No one. It’s finished. The knowledge dies with me.” psp games assassin's creed
“Who?”
The words were a blade of their own. Altaïr’s jaw tightened. The failure of his Mentor, the betrayal, still stung. He had no doubt who “she” was
But Kyros was already gone. The light left his eyes, and his body slid off the blade like a discarded cloak. She did not seek power
He would trust his blade, his creed, and the memory of a lost love waiting for him in Masyaf. Nothing was true. But she was real. And that was enough to keep the darkness at bay.
Kyros was on the pier, hunched over a chart, muttering prayers to a God the Templars had twisted for their own greed. He was a thin, nervous man, his fingers stained with ink and fear.
