Assassin's Creed: Destiny of Souls

Chapter 1

Claire kept her head down, the dull echo of her footsteps swallowed by the low murmur of voices and the clattering of trays. She barely registered the other captives around her, didn't look at them, didn't want to feel anything. She just wanted a moment alone—a moment where her mind wasn't racing, her heart wasn't aching, her thoughts weren't stuck on everything and everyone she'd lost.

The cold metal bench creaked slightly as she lowered herself onto it. She didn't touch the tray in front of her; the idea of food was alien. Her fingers absently found the ring in her pocket, her thumb rubbing over the band's edge. It was a small, cold weight in her hand, a painful reminder of the warmth that had once held it.

The scrape of metal against concrete pulled Claire's attention just enough to notice movement across from her. She glanced up, barely lifting her head, and took in the figure that had seated himself at her table. He was tall, his broad shoulders casting a shadow that seemed to stretch across the entire length of the table. His head was shaved close, the lines of his face worn but firm, with a quiet resilience etched into his features. His eyes were sharp, piercing even, yet they held an unexpected calm, a depth that spoke of a life lived on the edge but tempered by something steadier, something almost soothing.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked, his voice low and grounding, cutting through the suffocating fog of her grief and anger. The tone wasn't one that really asked for permission, but somehow, it didn't feel invasive; it felt steady, like an anchor dropped into turbulent waters.

Claire didn't answer, didn't look up fully, but he didn't seem to need her permission. He settled into the seat, resting his forearms on the table with a relaxed ease, his fingers laced together, his gaze a quiet weight that lingered without pressing. She could feel it—the quiet study of someone who wasn't prying, just observing, waiting.

Silence settled between them, pressing in on the noise around them until it felt as if they were the only two people in the room. She kept her eyes down, her fingers closed tight around the ring in her palm, pressing it so firmly into her skin that she could feel its cool metal etching into her flesh, grounding her. It was the only thing tethering her, a small reminder of everything she'd lost and could never reclaim.

"Is that a wedding ring?" His voice broke the silence with gentle precision, each word sliding into the space between them like it belonged there. He didn't look at her with the intrusive curiosity she'd come to expect, but with something softer, something raw and unfiltered that pierced the barrier she'd wrapped herself in.

Startled, she glanced up, her gaze meeting his for the first time. His question cut through her defenses, catching her off guard, and for a moment, she didn't know what to say. She'd been braced for confrontation, for challenge—but there was nothing in his face but a quiet understanding that unnerved her.

Her thumb traced the edge of the ring, and she swallowed, feeling the familiar ache in her chest tighten, intensify. "No," she whispered, the word thick with bitterness and a grief she couldn't keep hidden. "Not quite."

He nodded, a slow, measured movement, as if he understood more than she'd spoken. He didn't push, didn't ask for more, but something in his gaze softened, revealing a glimmer of sympathy she hadn't expected to find here. "Sometimes a piece of metal can mean more than a word or a label," he murmured, his tone threaded with a kind of reverence, a respect that she'd thought only someone who understood loss could offer.

There was something in his words that resonated, cutting through her isolation and reaching a part of her she'd been trying to bury. It was the smallest crack in her defenses, but it was there, unmistakable. And somehow, his words felt like an invitation—like she didn't have to carry the weight alone, even if only for this fleeting moment in a place where connection was rare and trust was a luxury.