Epilogue
An eagle soars overhead as I look up at the towering spire of the Cathedral of the Holy Cross. People shuffle past me, probably annoyed at my decision to stop in a middle of a populated area. But I can't go on. This is where it all started. This is where I met Khara.
A small group of Templars pass me, sending suspicious looks my way. But still I stand, looking at the spot where everything changed. So much has altered from that first moment I saw Khara.
I have changed, most of all. Nothing seems to make me happy anymore because once something has a chance to, it's instantly smothered by an image of Khara. Of what I loved but still wasn't able to save.
Will has changed too, but he's still a Templar. He's now known as William of Montferrat and from what I've heard, is almost never happy. I've seen him, seen the cautious and accusing look in his eyes as I walk past. Maybe he's still searching for Khara. I don't know whether he recognises that it's me or not, or whether he knows about what happened to Khara. I don't know whether he still loves her, or misses her. I don't know whether every time he recounts a memory with her, he feels angry and his eyes water like me. All I know is that he has an instant dislike of assassins. I think there is no one better to blame for that than me.
Malik told me earlier that we have an important mission soon and that I should be preparing. I didn't catch what it was about in detail. From memory, it was something about going to Solomon's Temple. I'm in no mood too. I constantly feel angry and I try my best to not take it out on others. But sometimes it's not enough and I end up wishing to see Khara again, just one more time.
"Khara," I whisper to no one in particular. "My Khara. You're gone. Why? Why did you have to go?"
Memories wash over me, her smiling face causing tears to roll down my cheeks. Every recollection is a constant reminder that I will never see that beautiful face again, that I will never hear her voice, that I will never again have any more memories with her. I try to tell myself that she's gone, that I need to let go. But I can't.
Was six months enough to let go? No. Will my whole lifetime be enough? Never. She's carved her own place in my heart that won't leave until I die.
But maybe one day I'll think of her and be happy that I could have those moments. Maybe one day it'll get a little better and I won't cry anymore. She told me to take a leap of faith and live without her. It seems impossible, it seems useless. But maybe that's how it needs to end, because that's how it all started.
A leap of faith.