August 12th, 1257

I'm tired. I am so very tired.

My life has stretched on to unnatural lengths, greatly lengthened by the Apple of Eden, along with the lives of the people around me. My eldest son, Darim, for example. Even before Malik and Maria had been murdered, the three of us were well into our sixties, and it was even unusual to live to that age. Especially for assassins. But to live to age ninety two...

My body ached with age, and I could feel my life dimming. It did not sadden me. On the contrary, I was somewhat grateful. I was ready to move on. I had been ready to move on for many years; many decades. I had outlived my wife, my best friend, and my youngest son, Sef. There was nothing here for me anymore. Not even Darim, who was getting on in years himself. He didn't need his father anymore. He hadn't for many years.

I often found myself wishing that I would fall asleep one night and never wake up. I tried to ignore my disappointment when I did, in fact, wake up in the mornings.

I stood in the entrance hall before my library, watching as my only remaining family member, Darim, approached me. In the glint of the torch light around us, I could see that his once dark hair, that was so like his mother's, had fragments of gray in it. My own hair, once a warm brown, was now completely silvery-white.

"You have seen to my books?" I asked.

"Yes," my son said, "Some we sent with the Polos. The rest will go with me, to Alexandria."

"Good." I said quietly, nodding my head slightly, "Very good."

"Father, I don't understand." said Darim suddenly. I looked at him as he continued, "Why did you build a library if you did not intend to keep your books-?"

I cut him off. "You should go. When the Mongols return, Masyaf must be empty."

"I see." said Darim, crossing his arms over his chest, "This is not a library at all; it's a vault."

My eyes flicked away from my son's face, towards the small brown sack I held in my hand. I lifted it slightly, feeling how oddly light it was. I did not need to ask what he meant it as a vault for, because we both knew; the Apple of Eden.

"It must stay hidden, Darim." I said quietly, "From eager hands. At least until it has passed on the secret it contains."

I thought about all of the chaos it had caused in my lifetime alone. The events of Solomon's Temple. When Al Mualim used it to control the minds of the people of Masyaf. Abbas attempting to steal it. The death of Maria... All that chaos... All that grief... I knew that if people knew its location, the Templars especially, they would attempt to seize it, and I can't let that happen. I figured that it would be safer, far below the fortress, where it could safely fade away from history, to be forgotten.

"What secret?" asked Darim, taking a small step forward.

"Go, son." I said sadly, "Go be with your family, and live well."

Darim took another step forward, and we quickly embraced. "All that is good in me began in you, father." he said into my ear quietly.

We broke apart, and made eye contact one last time. I gave him a small, sad, ghost of a smile, before stepping back onto the downward sloping hallway that lead to my now empty library. I pulled a lever, and the door shut between us, cutting me off from Darim, and the rest of the world, for what would likely be the last time.

I walked down the hallway slowly, extinguishing the torches lining the walls around me as I went, the voices of the people I had once known echoing in my mind as I went along as fast as my ancient body would allow.

"In much wisdom, is much grief." said the voice of Al Mualim, "And he that increasith knowledge, increasith sorrow."

"What does it tell you?" asked Maria, "What do you see?"

His own voice spoke up in reply to his wife's questions. "Strange visions and messages. Of ones who came before... Of their rise, and their fall..."

"But what happens to us, Altaïr?" Maria said, "To our family? What does the Apple say?"

"Who were the ones who came before?" I asked myself, jolting back to the present, "What brought them here? How long ago?"

Next I hear both Maria and Malik attempting to convince me to rid myself of the Apple, their voices telling me that it isn't healthy to be dwelling on it for as long as I have, and that I should abandon my studies of it completely. Maria sounds desperate. Malik sounds irritated. The one-armed Dai even suggests that I pitch it off of a tower, into the river below. I argue, of course. I tell them to say I sent it away somewhere, if they are questioned on it. I insist that no one must ever know that the Apple is here, until the time is right.

I place the Apple carefully on a pedestal before closing the secret wall panels, blocking it from view, locking it away for what I hoped would be a very long time.

I took a deep breath and sighed, placing my left hand on the wall where the Apple was now hidden behind. I bowed my head slightly towards the ground. I was exhausted, more exhausted than I had ever been in my entire life. My work was done. Maybe now I can rest. Even for just a moment.

I turned from the wall, and slowly made my through my darkened library, to the small chair in the very center of the room. I pushed at the cushions hesitantly before sitting down with another sigh. On an impulse, I reached with my right hand and pulled out the final key to the library from within my robes. It glowed faintly, like a candle in the darkness around me.

I settled into the chair, an odd sort of coldness settling over me. I closed my eyes, so I did not see the beginning tendrils of white fog begin to creep around the room, nor did I see the shape of a person materialize before me, watching me.

When I did open my eyes again, at first I assumed it was another illusion created by the Apple. It wouldn't be the first time that it did something like that, feeding off of my memories to produce images of the people closest to me, that I had lost. However, this one seemed different some how. For one thing, I wasn't actually holding the Apple when this image appeared. For another, the image didn't have the tell-tale golden glow around him.

Malik wore his Dai robes and he had his arms- both of them- crossed over his chest as he looked at me. He looked young again, about in his mid-twenties. It made me sigh in relief, for he looked much better than when I last saw him alive.

I gaped up at him; I couldn't quite believe it. "Malik?" I whispered.

"Altaïr." he greeted.

I looked down at my old, withered hands, and then back towards the man standing before me. To my surprise, Malik cracked a small smile.

"It's good to see you again." said Malik, a hint of amusement in his voice, "You've gotten old."

"I don't understand." I said, "Why are you here?"

"I've come to take you to the others." said Malik.

I released a quiet sigh through my nose. "So, I suppose this is it, then?"

"I'm afraid so." said Malik. There was a slight pause before he added, "You don't look too disappointed."

I wasn't. In a way, I was relieved. "I suppose not."

The white fog was thicker now; I could barely see my library anymore. My hands gripped the chair tightly. I couldn't stop staring at Malik. It had been so many years since I had seen him last, and the last time I saw him he wasn't exactly... well. He looked stronger and happier than I had seen him for even a few decades before his death.

"Are you ready to go?" Malik asked eventually.

I didn't hesitate before answering, "Yes."

Malik offered me his hand, and he pulled me to my feet. As he did so, I could feel years of age and hardship fall away from me. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. I looked at my hands again to find them as young and wrinkle-free as they had been sixty six years ago. My eyes widened slightly, and I looked back at Malik, who looked amused.

"Come on, Altaïr. Lets go." said Malik, starting to turn away, and beckoning for me to follow, "Everyone's waiting."

I'm sorry that took so long to post! I had intended to do it AGES ago, but I didn't really have the time...

Any-who, this is the official ending to this series, but I may end up writing about Malik's death, mostly because I think it would be interesting (if kind of cruel) to write about, what with the beheading and all. Just let me know if you're interested.

And about the thing with the Apple extending Altaïr's life... well, that was the best explanation I could come up with for him living to ninety-two, where as the people in that time period tended to live to about age forty. They were considered to be long-lived if they made it to fifty. Ninety-two was unheard of.

I already have another series planned out, so keep an eye out for when I post it. :)