Templar's Creed

Chapter 51

For a moment, they stood there, panting and bleeding in the snow. The world around them had gone quiet, the only sound their ragged breaths. Shay knew he had the upper hand, but he couldn't bring himself to deliver the final blow. Not to her.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the shadows, a hooded Assassin with a crossbow leveled at Shay's chest. Hope saw the danger and without hesitation, she threw herself in front of him, her sword up to block the incoming bolt. It struck her chest with a sickening thud, and she fell to the ground, writhing in pain.

Shay's world spun as he realized what had just happened. He had come to end her, and now she lay before him, fighting for her life because of his actions. The anger that had fueled him moments ago was replaced by a cold, leaden guilt. He whipped around to face the new threat, his sword at the ready.

The hooded figure stepped closer, the crossbow now pointing at Shay. "You've made your choice," the Assassin said, voice muffled by the scarf wrapped around their face. "But it seems you can't even finish the job you started."

Shay's eyes flicked to Hope, then back to the Assassin. "This isn't what I wanted."

The hooded figure's finger tightened on the trigger. "It's what you chose."

Shay's mind raced, the cold reality of the situation sinking in. He had to make a choice, one that would irrevocably define the rest of his life. His gaze shifted between the Assassin and Hope, who now laid still in the crimson snow, her eyes closed. He felt a surge of anger at the thought of her suffering for his cause, for the beliefs he had come to question.

With a roar of defiance, he lunged at the hooded figure, his sword flashing in the moonlight. The Assassin stumbled back, caught off guard by Shay's sudden change in demeanor. They exchanged blows, their breaths forming mist in the frigid air, the only sound the clanging of steel and the grunts of exertion.

The fight was intense, both combatants driven by a fierce loyalty to their respective causes. But Shay's rage was fueled by the pain of his own betrayal, and the sight of Hope's lifeless form in the crimson snow. His movements grew more erratic, more unpredictable, as the guilt of his actions consumed him.

The hooded Assassin, skilled and cunning, managed to land several hits, but Shay's desperation made him a formidable opponent. The Templar armor he wore, once unfamiliar, now felt like a second skin, offering protection and power. His sword sliced through the air with the precision of a master craftsman's blade, driven by the need to avenge the friend he had failed.

In a swift, brutal move, Shay disarmed the Assassin, the crossbow clattering to the ground. The figure stumbled back, raising their hands in a gesture of surrender. The scarf fell away, revealing a young face twisted with anger and fear—it was a novice, one of the many who had been drawn into the Brotherhood's web of deceit. Shay's rage ebbed, leaving him with a bitter taste of regret.

He sheathed his sword, his eyes never leaving the cowering youth. "You're not going to kill me," the novice panted, their voice trembling.

Shay took a deep breath, the cold air biting his lungs. "No," he said, his voice steady, "not today." He reached down to help the novice to their feet, only to be met with a flurry of panic. The young Assassin scrambled away, their eyes wide with terror.

Shay felt a twinge of sadness as he watched the novice flee into the night. He knew the fear in their eyes all too well; he had once felt it himself. He turned back to Hope, who lay unconscious in the crimson snow. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, a testament to her strength.

Gently, he picked her up and made his way back to the ship that had brought him here. The journey to the Templar stronghold felt like an eternity as he tended to her wound, the warmth of her blood seeping through his gloves. The guilt weighed on him like a stone, each drop of her blood a silent accusation.

Upon their arrival, Haytham Kenway was waiting, his expression inscrutable. The Grand Master assessed the situation with a single glance and ordered for medical attention to be brought immediately. Shay laid Hope down on a makeshift table, his hands trembling as the healers swarmed around her, their gentle touches in stark contrast to the brutality of their earlier encounter.

While Hope was being treated, Shay found himself in the Grand Master's study, the walls adorned with ancient tomes and maps that spoke of power and order. Haytham studied him, a mix of curiosity and scrutiny in his gaze. "You've made a powerful enemy tonight," he said, his voice measured. "But perhaps, an even more powerful ally."

Shay couldn't find the words to respond. The gravity of what he had done was sinking in, and the realization that he had almost killed a friend weighed heavily on his shoulders. Haytham continued, his eyes never leaving Shay's face. "You will be a valuable asset to us, Cormac. Your insights into the Brotherhood will help us restore balance to this world."

The following days saw Shay torn between his newfound loyalty to the Templars and the guilt that gnawed at his conscience. He watched over Hope as she recovered, her eyes haunted by the same pain that now lived in his heart. They didn't speak of the battle, the unspoken understanding hanging in the air like the fog that clung to the castle's ramparts.

Shay's missions grew more frequent and more dangerous, each one taking him further from the man he once was. The Brotherhood had marked him a traitor, and his former comrades had orders to bring him down. Yet, as he infiltrated their strongholds and uncovered their darkest secrets, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for the misguided souls he was hunting.

One night, Shay returned to the stronghold, his boots echoing in the empty hallways. His latest mission had been a success, but the victory felt hollow. As he approached Haytham's study, he heard the faint sound of a violin playing a mournful tune. The Grand Master looked up as he entered, his eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight.