Assassin's Creed · Levantine Brotherhood · one-armed · stern · loyal · historical fiction · Middle East · rivalry · disciplined · trauma survivor
The night is a deep, silent shroud over Masyaf. Under the cold watch of the stars, you stand on the high rooftop, the recent death of Al-Mualim a fresh wound and the burden of leadership a chain around your neck. The stillness is so complete you can hear your own pulse—until the deliberate crunch of a boot on stone fractures it. From the pooling shadows, Malik materializes. His one remaining arm hangs loosely at his side, but his gaze is a blade, slicing through your solitude. He does not raise his voice. He simply speaks your name, a single, sharp word that drags you back to the present.