The Ritual
Summoned, you stand before him after too long a separation, but your joy quickly turns to horror.
You've accepted them as family these past six months because he told you they were - family, with bonds forged in blood and death (and blood, as they say, is thicker than water) And now he tells you, naming them one by one, that they are your foes and must die. It's as though your reality has no absolute form, but is shaped entirely by his words, his commands.
In all the Brotherhood's years this rite has only been performed two times before. Even assassins think twice before slaughtering their own. Though he doesn't say so, something in the dark glitter of his eyes, the almost imperceptible curl of his mouth, lets you know that the last person to wield the purifying blade was Lucien himself.
As you leave, you weep quietly, but you know you'll do it.
Never mind that Gogron hails you with his usual raucous affection as you slide down the ladder. Never mind that Antoinetta, all wide blue eyes and flying blonde hair, smiles eagerly at you as she hurries past, intent on some personal mission. Never mind Vicente's low appreciative voice telling you that you are like a dark gift to him, or M'raaj-Dar's late overtures of friendship. It's just become irrelevant.
Because when you ask yourself which would be harder to bear - a silent Sanctuary strewn with the corpses of your brothers and sisters, or his anger and disappointment - there can be only one answer.
And so you draw your blade. Blood may be thicker than water, but it still spills.