Templar's Creed

Chapter 56

The first bullet grazed Haytham's shoulder, a crimson bloom blossoming on his pristine white shirt. The second found its mark in the Grand Master's chest, the force sending him staggering back. He clutched the precursor artifact tightly, his face a twisted mask of disbelief and rage.

Shay stared, the smoking pistol still in his hand, as the man who had once been his mentor, his ally, collapsed to the ground. The artifact fell from Haytham's grasp, its pulsing light fading to a dull glow. The room was silent save for the distant cries of the battle outside, a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions that raged within him.

He approached Haytham cautiously, his heart hammering in his chest. The Grand Master's eyes were open, but the fire within them had been extinguished. Shay dropped to his knees, reaching out to touch Haytham's face, his hand trembling. "I'm sorry," he murmured, the words feeling hollow in the face of the finality before him.

The room spun, the weight of his actions crushing him. He had killed Achilles, the man who had raised him, and now Haytham, the man who had offered him a new path. What had he become? Was he truly a protector, or merely a weapon for hire, wielded by those who promised him the truth?

Shay stumbled out of the chamber, the artifact's glow dimming behind him. The cacophony of battle grew louder, the air thick with the scent of blood and gunpowder. His mind raced with doubt and grief as he navigated the fortress's corridors, the faces of the fallen etched into his soul. The world around him was a blur, each step feeling heavier than the last.

As he emerged into the fortress courtyard, the chaos of the fight came into stark focus. Templars and Assassins clashed in a brutal dance of steel and shadow, their cries echoing off the ancient stones. The storm had abated, leaving a damp chill in its wake that seemed to seep into Shay's very bones.

He searched the melee for any sign of Liam, his heart heavy with the burden of his choices. The battle raged on, a whirlwind of violence that seemed to have no end in sight. Shay knew he had to escape before the fortress fell and his true intentions were discovered.

The rain had turned the ground to mud, making each step a challenge. He slid and skidded, his boots slipping as he fought his way through the frenzied mob. The cries of pain and the clang of metal were a cacophony that seemed to drown out the very beat of his heart. His breath came in ragged gasps, the cold air burning in his lungs.

Shay spotted a figure in the distance, a crimson cloak standing out starkly against the monochrome of the battle. His heart leapt—it was Liam. He had to warn him, to explain his actions. He stumbled through the chaos, dodging blows and bullets, desperate to reach his former friend.

As he approached, Liam saw him and their eyes locked. The fury in Liam's gaze was like a physical blow, but Shay didn't flinch. He had to make him understand. The words caught in his throat as Liam charged, his blade slicing through the air with the fury of a betrayed man.

Shay raised his sword in defense, the muscles in his arms screaming from the exertion of the night's battle. Each clang of steel on steel reverberated through him, a painful reminder of the friendship that had been shattered. They danced around each other, their movements a deadly ballet of anger and regret.

"Why, Shay?" Liam's voice was raw with emotion, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "How could you betray us?"

Shay's chest tightened with each accusation, but he steeled himself. "I'm not the one who's lost his way," he said, parrying another vicious strike. "The Brotherhood is blind to the truth."

Liam's eyes blazed with anger. "The truth? You dare speak of truth when you're in the company of those who seek to chain the world?"

Shay's grip on his sword tightened. "And what is the Brotherhood offering? More bloodshed in the name of 'freedom'?" He spat the word out like a curse. "I've seen the destruction both sides have wrought. The Templars seek power, the Assassins seek chaos. I want no part in it."

Liam's blade paused in mid-air, his eyes searching Shay's. "You're one of us," he said, his voice strained. "You know the importance of our cause."

Shay's chest heaved with exertion, the cold rain mixing with the sweat on his brow. "I know we've lost ourselves in this war," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "We're all just pawns in a game played by those who think themselves gods. The Templars crave power, while the Brotherhood worships chaos. Both are poisons to humanity."

Liam's gaze faltered, the rage in his eyes dimming for a brief moment. "What then do you seek?" he asked, his voice laced with doubt.

Shay took a step closer, his sword arm dropping slightly. "I seek to end this cycle of violence," he said, his voice earnest. "To find a way to live in a world where we don't have to hide in the shadows, where we can build something better together."

Liam's eyes searched Shay's, the doubt in them slowly giving way to something like understanding. But then, his gaze hardened, and he lunged again. "You're too late," he spat. "You're one of them now."

Shay's heart sank as their blades clashed once more, sparks flying in the dim light of the fortress. The rain fell around them in a curtain, mingling with their desperate breaths. Each strike brought them closer to a truth that neither wanted to face—their friendship was a casualty of the war that had consumed them both.

"Liam, please," Shay pleaded, the rain stinging his eyes. "This isn't who we are."

But Liam's blade didn't waver. "You made your choice," he snarled, his eyes burning with the intensity of their once-shared convictions. "You can't expect me to forgive you."

Their swords sang a mournful duet as they circled each other, their movements a deadly waltz of regret and anger. Shay could see the pain in Liam's eyes, the hurt and confusion mirroring his own. Each blow was a silent confession, a mournful lament for what could have been.