The firelight flickered against ancient stone walls, casting dancing shadows that seemed alive with history. Arkan stood in the heart of the Brotherhood's mountain sanctuary, the same place where countless initiates had once proven their worth. Tonight, however, he was no longer a novice—he had returned from his trial with the crimson-stained feather, and with it, the weight of a new life.
Dozens of assassins gathered around him, their hoods drawn, faces half-hidden, yet their presence radiated strength. Some he had trained beside, others he had only glimpsed in passing. Now, they formed a circle, their silence heavier than any applause.
From the crowd stepped his mentor, tall and solemn, his voice echoing through the chamber.
> "You entered the mountains a shadow of a man. You return bearing the mark of resolve. With this feather, you prove your blade has spoken where your heart once faltered. Tonight, the Brotherhood welcomes you—not as a child, but as a brother."
He raised the feather, still tinged red, for all to see. Then, lowering it, he fastened it inside Arkan's belt as a symbol of belonging.
Arkan felt the room shift. No longer did the other assassins' gazes weigh on him with doubt. Instead, he saw in their eyes recognition—acceptance. For the first time since awakening in this strange world, he was not alone.
One assassin, a broad-shouldered man named Yusef, stepped forward with a grin.
> "The mountains did not swallow you whole, then? Perhaps you are stronger than you look."
Arkan allowed himself a small smile.
> "Or perhaps I'm simply too stubborn to die."
A ripple of laughter broke through the chamber. Even in their solemnity, these were men and women bound by more than shadows—they were bound by fraternity.
At last, his mentor raised his hand, and silence fell once more.
> "Kneel, Arkan."
He obeyed, lowering himself before the circle. His mentor drew a blade, its steel glinting in the firelight, and pressed it lightly to Arkan's shoulder.
> "From this day forth, your past is ash. You carry no other name, no other loyalty, no other life. You are Assassin—servant of freedom, guardian of truth, brother to us all."
The blade lifted. Arkan rose. A roar of voices filled the chamber as the circle of assassins bowed their heads in unison.
> "Nothing is true… everything is permitted."
The words reverberated through him like thunder. Arkan closed his eyes, feeling the Creed carve itself into his soul. For the first time, he belonged. For the first time, he had a family.
And in that moment, as torches blazed and voices echoed, Arkan swore silently to himself: I will never allow this world's shadows to break the light within me. I am Assassin.