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It was far too hot, and too far from Acre. My horse, overwhelmed by the heat, hung his head low, and slowly trotted along the dust path.
I was alone on this trail, with none of my kin to watch over me. Forced to keep a lookout for any bandits- or templars- did nothing good for my already frayed nerves, drying out whatever strength I had left.
I found myself wandering through my thoughts, which always led me to memories of my father, Umar. His strength, valor, and ultimately, his sacrifice, were vivid in my mind. He inspired me each and every day to exceed my limits even when I thought I had mastered them.
My emotions were still not dulled, despite all I had done, and I felt myself blink tears away when I imagined him ruffling my hair, as he so loved to do.
I was dragged out of the safety of my memories when I heard hooves behind me, and turned as fast as I could, blade at the ready. I saw white in my peripheral vision, but rather than the white surcoat of a templar knight, it was the white robes of an assassin, a friend. He too was exhausted, leaning forward, the hood falling over, obscuring his face. He raised his head, and his hood fell, and I couldn't fathom what I saw.
It was my father, staring right at me. In a moment of weakness, I called out his name. Umar rode on, ignoring my cry. I needed to keep myself by his side no matter what, so I ordered my horse to keep up. Umar went off the road, and I followed, wanting to understand what magic this was.
He eventually led me to a small lake, with a dried tree on a small island in the middle. I dismounted, knelt by the water, and refilled my flask. Once done, I drank it up, then repeated these steps until I was satisfied.
I turned to look for my father, but he had vanished. I assumed that I had created a mirage in the haze of heat and memories, and yet, the lightness I felt in my heart was real.
“Father, if that truly was you…I hope you are proud of me.”
I felt a breeze, strong enough that it blew my hood back, exposing my face to the sun. It's light was sharper to my eyes than any hidden blade could be, so I shut my eyes in defensive instinct. The wind ruffled my hair, and I could’ve sworn I heard father speak-
“Of course I am, Altaïr.”