Assassin's Creed: Destiny of Souls

Chapter 11

In the soft, amber glow of the rec room's dim lighting, Claire sat hunched over a deck of cards, her fingers moving with practiced ease as she dealt a new hand. The cards themselves were worn and frayed at the edges, evidence of countless games that had filled these stolen hours of temporary reprieve. The quiet murmur of the room offered a momentary escape from the relentless tension beyond, an illusion of normalcy that felt both grounding and deeply surreal.

Beside her, Emir leaned over his hand, his brow knit in concentration as he studied his cards. Across the table, Nathan, Moussa, and Lin waited, each face a careful mask as they weighed their next moves. The delicate, strategic dance of the game was a ritual they had learned to value, a subtle means of honing their focus, practicing restraint, and sharing an unspoken bond.

But beneath the quiet shuffle of cards and the subtle glances, a hum vibrated through the walls—the low, relentless pulse of the Animus, a reminder that Callum was not here with them. The sound cut through the room, threading unease through the familiar ritual, and Claire's fingers tightened slightly around the cards, even though she kept her gaze steady, focused on the game.

Emir's voice was the first to break through the quiet tension. "They're putting him back in again," he said, frustration simmering beneath his controlled tone, his gaze flicking briefly toward Claire.

She didn't look up from her cards, though the slight tightening in her jaw betrayed her own frustration. "It's too soon," she replied, her voice low but resolute. Her eyes flickered over her cards, but her mind lingered on the image of Callum in the Animus, enduring the disorienting, brutal dive into ancestral memories that she knew all too well.

Nathan scoffed, shifting in his seat with a faint, defiant edge to his expression. "Then we should stop him before he betrays us," he muttered, barely glancing at his cards. His words landed sharply in the room, each syllable carrying the weight of an accusation he hadn't dared voice until now. "We all know where this leads."

Her jaw tightened further, but she kept her expression calm and measured as she laid down a card, more focused on keeping her voice steady than on the play in front of her. "He won't," she said, the firmness of her tone leaving little room for doubt.

Nathan raised an eyebrow, disbelief flickering across his face. His skepticism was clear, the subtle set of his mouth and the narrowness of his gaze challenging her confidence. "You don't know that for sure. Sofia is..." He trailed off, the frustration boiling just beneath his calm surface as he searched for the words.

Emir leaned back, his fingers absent-mindedly tracing the edges of his own cards, his usually composed face betraying a hint of surprise. His dark eyes, always observant, softened for a brief moment, something vulnerable surfacing beneath his calm exterior. "Everything?" he asked, his voice a low murmur that barely cut through the quiet tension, but enough to convey his disbelief.

"Yes," Claire replied, not flinching as she met his gaze. The memory of her conversation with Callum resurfaced in her mind—the vulnerability, the pain, and the raw anger that had filled his eyes as she'd told him about the life they'd lost, the betrayal of everything they had once believed in. For the first time since their separation, she'd seen Callum not as a stranger but as her brother, someone bound to her by blood and a shared suffering that words alone could not express. "He deserved to know the truth. And I owed it to him," she added, her voice firm.

Lin, who had been watching her with that perceptive, quiet intensity, set her cards down and tilted her head slightly, her gaze thoughtful. Claire could feel Lin's steady presence beside her, a grounding force amid the shifting sea of emotions. "What do you suggest we do, then?" Lin's voice held an edge of urgency but also a deep trust, a silent acknowledgment of the leadership Claire had come to embody in their small, broken circle.