Gordon Doherty - Assassin's Creed Odyssey - The Official Novelization

“I tried, Mother. But Kleon of Athens struck him down out of envy.”

After a time, Myrrine nodded. “Then another of our bloodline is gone,” she said quietly. She rose, coming to slide down into Kassandra’s seat, wrapping an arm across her shoulders. “So few of us left,” she said, brushing Kassandra’s loose hair with her fingers, staring into her eyes. “I feel I should answer the question that you asked me once, long ago.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Your father, Kassandra. Your real father.”

Myrrine leaned in, putting her lips to Kassandra’s ear.

The name she whispered echoed through Kassandra’s body. It was like a bell pealing inside. Now she understood…

Months passed, and autumn brought with it gales and rainstorms. One morning, Kassandra awoke in the warm comfort of her bed, fresh of mind and her body for once devoid of the aches and pains that had followed her for years. She saw the sullen sky outside, framing the heights of Mount Taygetos. Perhaps it was the closeness of sleep, or the exact hue of the clouds, but something stroked her heart then, conjuring the memories of that night from her childhood. For the first time, she let the memory play out without fear. Since her return to Sparta, she had visited each of the five ancient villages, attended feasts and poetry evenings, trained in the gymnasium and swum in the bracing waters of the River Eurotas at dawn most days. Today, she had planned to take Ikaros hunting in the woods, but she realized now that there was one place she had yet to tread.

She went alone, not telling Mother or Barnabas. Carrying just a drinking skin and a round of cheese, she set off, taking deep breaths to clear her head, the air fresh and scented with pine and damp earth. Walking uphill, she unroped her famous half lance and tried to use it like a walking cane. She smiled sadly, realizing just how inadequate it was for such a purpose, and just how small she had been all those years ago. As she climbed the mountain path, she imagined the ghosts of that lost age walking before her: the wretched ephors and priests. Nikolaos, Mother. And in her arms… little Alexios.

Tears stung behind her eyes, and she did not hear Ikaros’s cries up ahead. When she reached the plateau, she gazed upon the sad, weather-worn altar where it had all taken place. For a moment, it seemed as if all her sadness was set to swell up and explode. She almost let it happen. Only one thing stopped her.

The other figure standing up there.

He stood with his back to her, gazing out over the abyss.

“A… Alexios?” she stammered.

Ikaros’s warning cries were all too clear now, the eagle circling and screeching above.

Alexios did not reply.

“But you fell, at Amphipolis.” She stared at her brother’s bare shoulders, seeing the angry welt of a recent scar from an arrow wound, part masked by his long coils of dark hair.

“The wound is merely a decoration.” He turned to her, his face impassive. “I have been waiting for the last moon on these heights. I knew you would come here eventually.” There was a terrible steel in his gaze. And she realized he was looking not at her, but at someone behind her.

“My lamb, my boy,” Myrrine said, stepping up to Kassandra’s side.

“Mother?” Kassandra hissed. “You followed me?”

“The mountain drew us all here,” Myrrine replied, placing a gentle hand on Kassandra’s shoulder as she stepped past her. “You promised to bring him home Kassandra, and you have.”

Kassandra grabbed her wrist, halting her. “It is not safe, Mother.”

But Myrrine’s eyes brimmed with tears and she extended a hand toward him.

Alexios’s brow pinched and he looked away. “On the edge of the world, a mother reaches out to her child. Touching.”

“Alexios, please,” Myrrine whimpered.

“You use that name as if it means something to me,” he growled.

“It is the name your father and I gave you.”

His head twitched, cocking to one side to behold her in mistrust. “Was that before you brought me up here to die?”

Myrrine clutched her chest. “It was the Cult who brought us all up here that night. I did everything I could to save you.”

Alexios clenched his fists and shuddered where he stood.

Kassandra saw the fire rise within him. “Alexios, it is over: the war, the Cult. Let their clouds clear from your mind. Remember who you are.”

He shook his head ever so slowly. “The Cult sought to bring order to the world. I was their chosen one, and now I will be the bringer of order.”

“We are of the same blood, Alexios,” said Kassandra. “All I have ever wanted is my family. I feel it in you too.”

Alexios’s head lolled. He fell silent for a time. “Once, when I was a boy, under Chrysis’s care, I found a lion cub trapped in a snare. My friend tried to free it… and that’s when I heard the deadly growl of its mother.” His head began to rise again. “I watched as the lioness tore my friend to shreds. In the world of beasts, a family protects its young.” His head rose fully now, his eyes dark and wet with emotion.

“I loved you, Alexios,” Myrrine sobbed. She grimaced for a moment, as if quarreling with herself. “To the pits with Spartan ways, I loved you… and I still love you.”

Slowly, Alexios reached up to his shoulder scabbard and began to draw his sword. “My name is Deimos. The one you love is dead. My destiny is clear and you will not stand in my way.” He stepped toward Myrrine and tore his blade free in a flash.

Clang! Kassandra’s spear met his strike, saving her mother. Myrrine did not flinch—his blade edge a finger’s-width away from her head—but her face flooded with fresh tears.

“Alexios, no!” Kassandra cried.

Spittle flew from his cage of teeth as he tried to force his blade upon his mother.

Kassandra yelled and summoned all her strength, throwing him back then pointing the spear at him. “I don’t want to fight you.”

“I told you at Amphipolis, Sister. One of us must die,” he drawled, then leapt for her.

Their blades clashed in a fury of sparks and the terrible song of steel rose from the mountain.

“No, no !” Myrrine cried, backing away, sinking to her knees.

Deimos launched a flurry of strikes, ripping at her arms, cutting her forehead, nearly driving her from the precipice, and were it not for her quick thinking and a kicked-up puff of dust, he would have run her through. The angry clouds gathered and rumbled above, and Kassandra felt a great anger rise within her. Rain fell as she battered and battered at his sword, saw his demon’s glower crumble away, saw his sword spin from his hand and off into the abyss, saw her brother crumple to the ground, hands thrown up like a shield, felt her spear arm tense, then her whole body convulse as she sank to strike.

The spear tip halted right before his breastbone.

They both panted, staring into each other’s eyes, she cradling him, holding him on the edge of death. The sky growled with nascent thunder.

Myrrine crawled over to them, clutching at her hair. “Please, no.”

“I have done terrible things,” he whispered. “Sister, it could have been so different.”

Kassandra felt that warm flicker of flame inside her heart. “It still can, Brother.”

He shook his head. “I told you that one of us must die here. None possessed the strength to better me… until I fought you on Sphakteria. You were my equal there. And then at Amphipolis. Had Kleon not struck me down, you would have beaten me.”

“It matters not,” she pleaded. “Think of what could lie ahead for us. A family as we were meant to be.”