Desmond Miles
Legacy Name: Desmond Miles

The Grand Temple was designed by members of the First Civilization to consolidate their research in one place. Inside, it seemed endless and cold but not just in the literal sense. Ethereal light shined from a massive doorway and small lights were scattered across the interior of the cavern. The whole team had to watch their steps, if anyone slipped they could fall to their deaths in the canyon below.

Desmond didn't walk carefully, instead he jumped across the gaps to find a new spot to plug in his glowing power block. The small escape gave him time to think back on his life after Abstergo captured him. So many things had gone wrong in the past few weeks. Even though they were ahead of the Templars, his work was far from over. All that time he spent trapped in the animus tore Desmond's mind apart and he was still trying to put every piece back together. Desmond was tired and now he felt more alone in their cause now than he ever had before.

Desmond do this, Desmond do that.

He was merely a puppet letting everyone else pull his strings. Throughout the process, he often wondered when he would be his own person again. When would he be able to stop exploring his ancestors lives and live his own? He already felt like he was thousands of years old. He'd been fighting for this damn cause since the days of Altair. He lived through the days of Ezio, and even then they knew Desmond was coming for the knowledge. Someone had written his story for him and they had already set his ending in stone.

One moment for himself was all he wanted so he took it, "So... this will be a short one, Dad." Desmond had thought about what to say in this message often and had a sinking feeling that it would be his last. Along with each word, tears began to fill his eyes until they finally spilled over.

"When you tell my story years from now, please... tell them the one about how I lost my way, and then I found it again just in time to save the world. And— and just end it there. That'll keep everyone smiling..." After turning off the recorder, he shoved it away and set his head down on the stone cold desk. Deep down, Desmond knew he wouldn't live through whatever was waiting for him, but he wanted his father to remember him as an optimist. His last words needed to be filled with hope for the good of the Creed.

Breathing in, he stretched his arms above his head and grabbed the opposite end of the desk. Desmond released a muffled scream of frustration before he let go and sat up to rub his eyes. There were still instances to go through and they were running out of time, so Desmond stood up, rolled his shoulders, and made his way back to the others. Connor's memories were calling his name.