Templar's Creed

Chapter 55

"The artifact is too dangerous," Shay said, his voice strained. "We must destroy it."

Haytham's expression hardened, his grip on the crystal tightening. "You've seen its potential," he said, his voice filled with conviction. "This is what the Templars have worked toward for centuries—the power to shape the world according to our vision."

Shay's eyes searched Haytham's face, the weight of their shared history heavy on his shoulders. "And what if that vision leads to a world without choice?" he countered, his voice trembling. "Without freedom?"

The Grand Master's gaze was unwavering. "We are the shepherds, Shay," he said firmly. "We guide humanity away from the cliff of destruction. The Brotherhood would have you believe that chaos is freedom, but order is what truly allows for prosperity and growth."

Shay's mind reeled with the implications of Haytham's words. The echo of Achilles' dying breaths still haunted his ears, and the faces of the fallen Assassins swirled in his vision like a grim pantomime. Yet, the seductive allure of the artifact's power was undeniable. He took a deep breath, the air in the chamber thick with the scent of dust and decayed dreams.

"I can't trust that power," he murmured, his hand moving slowly to the pistol at his side. "It's too tempting."

Haytham's gaze narrowed. "You would defy me?"

Shay's hand hovered over the pistol, his heart racing. "I'm not defying you, Haytham. I'm protecting what's left of my conscience."

For a moment, Haytham's eyes searched Shay's, and it was as if he could see the tumult of emotions churning within his former comrade. The Grand Master's expression softened ever so slightly, but then his jaw set, and he took a step back, raising the artifact. "If you stand in the way of the Templar's vision, you stand in the way of humanity's salvation."

Shay's hand tightened around the grip of his pistol. "I can't let you do this," he said, his voice firm. "We're not saviors. We're just men with too much power."

Haytham's expression grew cold, the warmth that had once been there now replaced with the icy resolve of a leader willing to do whatever it took to achieve his goals. "You're wrong, Shay," he said, his voice echoing through the chamber. "We are the guardians of humanity's future, and this artifact is the key to unlocking that future."

Shay's hand hovered over the trigger, his finger trembling. "I've seen what your 'order' does to those who oppose it," he spat. "You're no better than the men you claim to fight against."

The air in the chamber grew still, the only sound the dull thud of their hearts echoing off the ancient stones. Haytham's eyes narrowed, the precursor artifact casting an eerie glow across his face, distorting his features into something almost monstrous. "You dare question the Templar cause?" he snarled, his voice a mix of anger and disappointment.

Shay took a step back, his hand steadying on the pistol. "I question any cause that requires the sacrifice of innocents," he replied, his voice a low growl. "The Brotherhood isn't perfect, but at least they don't claim to be gods."

Haytham's gaze was cold and unyielding. "You're a traitor to your kind, Shay," he said, his words a knife to the heart. "You've taken too many lives, and now you seek to deny us the power to prevent such tragedies in the future."

Shay's finger tightened around the trigger, his eyes never leaving Haytham's. "Or perhaps," he countered, "I've just realized that there's no 'us' and 'them.' We're all just people fighting for what we believe in."

The Grand Master's face contorted in anger, the power of the artifact seeming to pulse in his grip. "You've been seduced by the Brotherhood's lies," he snarled. "Their quest for 'freedom' is nothing but an excuse for anarchy."

Shay felt the weight of his decision pressing down on him, a heavy burden that threatened to crush his very soul. "I've seen the truth, Haytham," he said, his voice firm. "The Templars are no different. Both sides claim to know what's best for the world, but all you're doing is fighting for the right to dictate that truth."

Haytham's eyes grew dark with anger, the power of the artifact seeming to crackle around him. "You dare speak to me of truth?" he roared, taking a menacing step forward. "You, who have spilled the blood of your own kind?"

Shay held his ground, his pistol leveled at Haytham. "I've seen enough death," he said, his voice shaking with emotion. "I can't stand by while you use this to justify more."

The Grand Master took another step forward, the precursor artifact pulsing in his hand like a living heart. "Are you threatening me?" he demanded, his voice a thunderous growl. "You've taken one too many steps down the path of doubt, Cormac. Now, you're nothing but a stain on the Templar legacy."

Shay felt the walls closing in, the weight of his betrayal and his newfound conviction pressing down upon him. "I'm not threatening you," he said, his voice steady despite the tremble in his hands. "I'm offering you a chance to see reason. To realize that this isn't about power or control, but about doing what's right."

Haytham sneered, the artifact casting an ominous glow across his face. "Your words are as empty as the graves of those you've sent to the afterlife," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You're a fool, Shay. You always were."

Shay's eyes narrowed, the pain of Haytham's words cutting deeper than any blade. He knew his path had been fraught with darkness, but he believed he was fighting for a cause greater than himself. "If that makes me a fool," he replied, his voice laced with steel, "then so be it."

The air grew tense as the two men stood at an impasse, the precursor artifact a stark reminder of the chasm that had opened between them. The fortress trembled around them, as if the very earth itself was protesting the violence that had been wrought within its ancient walls.

With a final, desperate plea in his eyes, Haytham lunged at Shay, the crystal blade in his hand glinting with the promise of a swift, painless death. Shay reacted on instinct, his pistol barking twice. The shots rang through the chamber, the echoes mingling with Haytham's roar of fury.