The sun dipped below the Tuscan horizon, painting the terracotta tiles of Florence in shades of bruised purple and gold. High atop the bell tower of Santa Maria del Fiore, Ezio Auditore sat with his brother, Federico. The wind pulled at their fine silk doublets, and for a moment, the world below—the shouting merchants, the clattering hooves, the political whispers of the Medici—seemed like a distant dream.
In this moment, the music wasn't a dirge; it was a promise. It spoke of the blood that tied them together and the city that breathed with them. Ezio reached out to touch the stone of the tower, feeling the heartbeat of Florence. "May it never change," Federico whispered. assassins_creed_2_ost_jesper_kyd_ezios_family_t...
As the first few notes of a familiar melody drifted from a distant balcony—a woman singing a wordless, soaring lament—Ezio closed his eyes. He didn't know that by dawn, the laughter of his family would be replaced by the cold snap of a gallows rope. He didn't know that the fine cape on his shoulders would be traded for the white hood of a ghost, or that his Florentine swagger would harden into the calculated stride of an Assassin. The sun dipped below the Tuscan horizon, painting