Literature
Altair: Her Face
Death. I knew what I would see when I entered that door. I knew what awaited me as I lowered the last dead Templar guard down. His throat had been cut wide open with my blade, my trusted Hidden Blade, the one I never went without. Death. I brought it. I wrought it. I saw it. I was it. Death on two legs. Death robed in white. Death coloured red. I knew it. I dreaded it. Stepping over the ultimate body, I stopped. In the doorway. Immobile. Completely still. As if I too had died. Perhaps I had. I wished I was dead. What greeted me… She was gone. Only the lifeless body remained on the floor, the grey rug under her dark with blood. Her blood. Still steaming and hot to the touch. I felt the last heat of her vitality as my knees made contact with the thin fabric of her last resting place. Her face. I try to banish it from my mind…. Her unblinking eyes… Which I closed with fingers that shook. Now. Finally. After the rush of the hopeless pursuit, after the explosion of violent death I had