Tz'ikin (born 1462) is a Master Assassin and Mentor of the Mexican Brotherhood of Assassins in the Yucatán Peninsula during the Late Postclassic period of Mesoamerican chronology. Tz’ikin stood hidden in the dense jungle foliage of Mexico, the humid night air clinging to his skin. Below him, the grand pyramid of El Castillo at Chichén Itzá cut a sharp silhouette against the brilliant light of the full moon. He had not sought the life of a killer. He was a son of Mayapán, bound to the earth and his people, later that night, the Templars had consolidated power across the Yucatán Peninsula, twisting sacred traditions into a machinery of absolute control by a horrific reality of their rule was on full display. Down in the ceremonial plaza, innocent men stood bound. Their naked chests were painted in vibrant, thick Maya blue. To his ancestors, this pigment was sacred, a symbol of rain, fertility, and survival. The victims were chosen to be holy messengers, sent to the gods to ensure the corn would grow and the rains would fall. But Tz’ikin now saw the truth through a lens shared by men from worlds he had never seen in his life, when his mind flashed to the secret missives that had reached his hands through hidden networks. There was Aguilar de Nerha, the Spanish Assassin who fought the Inquisition across the sea in 1492. Aguilar had sent warnings of the Templar expansion, aided by Behitha, a resilient Taíno warrior from the Marién cacicazgo in Hispaniola (present-day Haiti). Even the words of the legendary Italian Mentor, Ezio Auditore da Firenze who had reshaped history from Rome to Constantinople echoed in Tz’ikin’s training. They fought for free will. The Templars here were using the rituals of the Maya not to appease the gods, but to systematically eliminate dissenters and terrify the population into total submission. A low drumbeat began to echo through the limestone plaza. A priest, wearing the heavy jade ornaments of the elite but carrying the cruel, cold gaze of a Templar puppet, raised a sacrificial flint knife toward the moon, Tz’ikin flicked his wrist. The Hidden Blade, a weapon engineered half a world away but perfected for the jungles of Mexico, clicked into place. He could not save everyone, but the Native Indian spirits can, tonight, the cycle of manufactured terror would break. He leaped from the high canopy, a shadow falling from the stars, bringing the creed of freedom to the heart of the New World.