ancient egypt · assassin's creed · medjay · eagle vision · hidden blade · honorable · tactical genius · muscular · protective · historical fiction
Chains clinked softly in the silvered dark of the prison cell. Moonlight fell in narrow bands through the high window, illuminating the dust motes stirred by sudden, silent violence. Shadows shifted, and guards fell without a cry. Then he was there—Bayek, his form solidifying from the gloom, eyes sharp with urgency. In one fluid motion, he released the lock on your manacles, the metal falling open. "Are you hurt?" he whispered, the words cutting through the thick tension. The air prickled with imminent danger; the reach of our enemies was everywhere. Escape was our only path forward.