Assassin's Creed: Destiny of Souls

Chapter 27

December 24th 2016
Claire stood at the edge of the training mat, her body tense but ready, her gaze focused as Aiden looked her over. This was her first real day of training since her escape, and though she had worked to regain her physical strength with Abstergo's therapy, today felt different. Today, she was here by her own choice, reclaiming her body on her own terms.
Aiden stepped closer, his expression attentive but reassuring. "Alright, we'll keep it simple today. Just want to get a feel for where you're at," he said, his tone steady but encouraging. "Think of this as a baseline, nothing more."
She nodded, already feeling a mix of determination and apprehension. Eight months had passed since her last Animus session, and she was stronger than she'd been in a long time. The physical therapy had brought her body back from the edge, but she knew she was nowhere near her old self. Painkillers helped dull the residual nerve pain, though it still hummed under the surface, ready to flare up with too much strain. Her muscles were stronger, but the scars she carried had left her with limitations that she wasn't sure she could overcome.
"Let's start with some basic stretches, just to ease into it," Aiden suggested, demonstrating a few movements.
She followed his lead, taking each motion slowly, paying close attention to how her body responded. Stretching her arms forward felt familiar but stiff, and when she lifted them above her head, a slight tremor made her fingers waver. It wasn't severe, but enough to remind her that she still had a ways to go. She forced herself to ignore the frustration bubbling up, focusing instead on the fact that she was able to complete the movement without pain flaring.
Aiden observed her closely, noting her balance and the control in her motions. "Good," he said. "Now, let's try some stepping movements, just to test your balance and coordination."
She took a steady breath and stepped forward, focusing on keeping her balance. Her legs felt steady, her coordination intact, though a subtle weakness lingered, as if her body hadn't fully readjusted to these types of movements. She managed a few steps, feeling the muscles in her legs engage, holding her weight with a familiarity she hadn't felt in a long time. Each step felt more natural than the last, and as she continued, she found herself gaining confidence.
"Feels manageable?" Aiden asked, his tone encouraging.
"Yeah," she replied, a bit surprised by her own steadiness. "It's... better than I thought it would be."
Aiden gave her an approving nod. "Good. Now, let's add some simple arm movements. Think of it like shadowboxing—just keep it controlled, slow."
She nodded, raising her fists in front of her and focusing on a slow, deliberate punch. Her arms felt strong, though her fingers still tingled with a faint numbness, and she could sense the tension in her shoulders as she tried to keep her movements controlled. She completed a few punches, feeling her muscles engage, though the effort began to bring a dull ache to her neck.
After a few rounds, she lowered her arms, letting out a steadying breath. "The movements are fine," she said, rolling her shoulders slightly. "But there's still some strain... here." She tapped the base of her neck, feeling the familiar tightness settle in.
Aiden's expression softened, understanding without judgment. "We'll work around that. If anything starts to hurt too much, we adapt. The goal isn't to push through pain but to build up what you can handle."
She managed a small smile, grateful for his patience. She wasn't ready to dive into intense training, but this slow approach felt right. It was frustrating to acknowledge her limitations, yet empowering to know she could still move, still feel her body respond after all it had endured.
"Let's try something a bit more challenging," Aiden said after a pause, walking over to the wall and grabbing a weighted practice dagger.. "Think you're up for it?"
"I won't know until we try." She said, taking it from him.
She wrapped her fingers around the handle of the dagger, feeling its familiar weight, but as she held it steady, she noticed the tremor in her hand intensify. The blade wavered in her grip, her fingers struggling to maintain the control she once took for granted. She clenched her jaw, focusing on steadying her hand, though the subtle shaking persisted, her fingers refusing to fully cooperate.
"Take it slow," Aiden said, watching her carefully. "Just focus on holding it for now."
She nodded, her gaze fixed on the dagger as she tightened her grip, willing her hand to still. But each time she thought she had control, a slight tremor would ripple through her fingers, undermining her hold. The frustration simmered under her skin, a reminder of how much she had lost, of how something as simple as holding a weapon now felt like a battle in itself.
She took a deep breath, forcing herself to stay calm. "It's... harder than I expected," she admitted, her voice low, tinged with a reluctant frustration. "My hand just doesn't listen."
Aiden's gaze was steady, his expression patient and understanding. "This is where we start," he said, his tone calm. "It doesn't have to be perfect. Right now, it's about getting comfortable with what you can manage."
Claire nodded, though a part of her struggled with the thought of starting from this point, of accepting that her precision and dexterity weren't going to return as quickly as her strength had. She tried a few basic moves with the dagger, slow, controlled slashes and thrusts, but each movement was accompanied by the shake in her grip, making the blade's path unsteady.
She exhaled in frustration, her brow furrowing as she struggled to maintain control. "It's... infuriating," she muttered, her fingers aching as she forced them to hold steady, her muscles tensing as she fought against the tremor. "I used to be able to move through these motions without a second thought. Now... now it's like my own hands are working against me."
Aiden took a step closer, his gaze calm and reassuring. "It's not about where you were, Claire. It's about where you are now and what we can build from here." He gestured toward her hand, his tone soft but confident. "It's very likely you may not get back to where you were. Everything is different and you're going to have to learn a new way to fight."
Aiden's words struck her, each one sinking deeper than she'd expected. She wanted to resist, to argue that she could get back to the way she was, that this was only a temporary setback. But the steady resolve in his voice, the quiet acceptance that things might never be the same, forced her to confront a truth she'd been avoiding. She could feel the frustration and sadness pooling beneath the surface, but she forced herself to focus, to absorb what he was saying.
She looked down at the dagger in her hand, the tremor still faintly present, and her grip unsteady. It wasn't easy to accept the idea that she might never regain the precise control she'd once had, the effortless strength she had built over years of training. Her hand tightened around the handle, the tension in her fingers making her grip uncomfortably stiff.
Aiden seemed to sense the storm of emotions flickering across her face. He took a careful step closer, his gaze warm and reassuring. "You're not starting from scratch, Claire," he said gently, his voice grounding. "You've still got your instincts, your training... all of that is still in you. But this time, we adapt. You learn to fight with what you have now, with the strength that you rebuilt."
She met his gaze, her frustration giving way to a reluctant acceptance. She wanted so badly to return to the person she once was, the assassin who moved with precise fluidity, but as she looked into Aiden's eyes, she began to see the possibility of something new. Maybe her strength didn't have to look like it used to. Maybe she could learn to wield it in a different way.
"Learning a new way to fight..." she murmured, her voice trailing off as she weighed his words. There was a challenge in it, a chance to reshape herself rather than chasing after a version of her past that no longer fit. "You really believe I can do that?"
Aiden's expression softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I've watched you do things most people would never even try. Of course, I believe you can do it."
The quiet confidence in his voice warmed her, and for a moment, the tension in her hand eased. She took a breath, letting his words settle into her, steadying herself against the doubts that had been gnawing at her. Slowly, she nodded, feeling the stirrings of determination replace the frustration.
"Alright," she said, her voice more certain this time. "Then let's start figuring out what this new way looks like."
Aiden gave her an encouraging nod, stepping back to give her room. "One step at a time," he said, his voice filled with that steady, unwavering belief that seemed to wrap around her like a safety net.
Claire was just getting into the rhythm of her training, adjusting to the new cadence of movement and control, when the sound of footsteps echoed down the stairs. She turned to see Moussa and Callum descending with wide, almost mischievous grins on their faces.
"Alright, break time," Moussa called out, a laugh in his voice. "You two need to come upstairs. Trust me."
Claire exchanged a wary glance with Aiden, her brows raised in question. Aiden shrugged, clearly just as curious, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes as he nodded toward the stairs. They followed Moussa and Callum up to the main room, and as Claire crossed the threshold, her breath caught.
The entire hideout had been transformed. Brightly colored lights twinkled from every corner, a small but carefully decorated Christmas tree sat in the corner, adorned with ornaments that seemed as mismatched and cobbled together as their crew itself. Garlands hung along the walls, and every available surface seemed to have a bit of sparkle or a sprig of holly.
"Welcome to Christmas Eve, everyone!" Callum announced, his grin widening.
Claire blinked, taken aback. "Christmas Eve?" She gave a half-laugh, almost disbelieving. "How... how did I not even notice?"
Moussa chuckled, shaking his head. "You've been busy, Claire. But don't worry, we've got you covered."
Paul stood at a small table where an assortment of mugs and glasses were lined up, steaming with the warm, spicy scent of cider and spices. He was pouring a drink when he glanced up and caught her eye. "Thought we'd give you a proper holiday this year," he said, a soft smile breaking through his usually stoic expression. "Been too long since any of us had one."
Rebecca and Shaun were nearby, stringing more lights along the wall, while Lin hummed a familiar carol under her breath, carefully arranging wrapped gifts beneath the tree. Claire felt a pang of emotion settle in her chest—she hadn't had a Christmas, a real Christmas, in years. Not since before 2007. Her last one had been with Aiden and Paul, before everything changed.
Paul picked up one of the mugs and offered it to her. "Here you go," he said, giving her a knowing look. "No booze in this one—just warm apple cider."
She took it gratefully, the warmth seeping through her hands and the familiar scent of cinnamon and apples filling her senses. "Thanks, Paul," she said softly, touched by the gesture. She took a sip, feeling the warmth spread through her, grounding her in the moment.
"Hey, don't forget about us," Moussa chimed in, nudging her gently. "We couldn't let you miss out on the best part of the holiday season."
Claire glanced around the room, her gaze lingering on each of her friends. For so long, her life had been shadowed by the weight of her past, by the scars that had shaped her, but here, in this simple but carefully crafted scene, she felt a flicker of something she hadn't felt in years—a sense of belonging, of family.
Aiden came up beside her, his hand resting briefly on her shoulder in a gesture of support. "Looks like they went all out," he said with a soft smile.
She nodded, her gaze warm as she looked around. "It's... perfect," she whispered, her voice filled with quiet gratitude. She took another sip of her cider, letting herself sink into the moment, allowing the warmth of her friends' presence to melt away the lingering chill of her past.
As they all gathered around the tree, Shaun and Rebecca handed out gifts, each one small but thoughtful, wrapped in simple paper and ribbon. Claire received a soft, knit scarf from Lin, a small hand-carved pendant from Moussa, and a book on the history of ancient symbols from Shaun, which made her laugh.
As the evening progressed, filled with warmth and laughter, Claire found herself surrounded by her friends, each gift they had given her a reminder of the bond they shared. But when Aiden handed her a small, carefully wrapped package, she felt a subtle flutter in her chest. His expression was gentle, a hint of something unspoken in his gaze as she carefully peeled back the wrapping.
Inside lay an elegant silver hairpin, delicately crafted with intricate floral designs etched along its length. Two small, dark charms hung from the end, each shaped like delicate bellflowers, giving the piece an appearance of grace and refinement. At first glance, it was a beautiful, ornamental gift—a small luxury she would never have thought to give herself.
But as she ran her fingers over it, feeling the cool metal under her touch, she noticed the weight of the pin was slightly heavier than expected. Her eyes flickered up to meet Aiden's, a question forming in her gaze.
He gave a small, knowing smile. "It's more than just a hairpin," he murmured, keeping his voice low, though the others continued chatting around them, unaware. "Slide your fingers along the top, just there."
Claire followed his instruction, her fingers pressing along the subtly hidden seam, and with a gentle twist, the end of the pin detached, revealing a sleek, narrow blade within. She let out a soft gasp, equal parts surprise and admiration. It was a stiletto knife, flawlessly concealed within the elegance of the hairpin, a weapon she could carry with her in plain sight.
"Aiden..." she whispered, her voice laced with a quiet awe. She glanced back down at the blade, then at the floral embellishments, touched by the thoughtfulness and care behind the gift. This wasn't just a practical tool—it was something beautiful, a piece that reflected her strength and resilience in a way only Aiden seemed to understand.
"It's subtle, like you," he said softly, his tone tinged with warmth. "I thought... it might be something you could carry with you, no matter where you go."
She nodded, words escaping her as she looked up at him, gratitude shining in her eyes. He'd thought of everything, from the delicate design to the concealed weapon—something she could wield if she ever needed to defend herself, yet refined enough to pass as a simple accessory.
"Thank you," she murmured, slipping the pin into her hair, the floral charms dangling gently at her temple. It felt right, like a piece of herself reclaimed.
Aiden gave her a faint smile, nodding in understanding. "You look beautiful," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. And in that moment, she felt it—whole, grounded, and surrounded by people who saw her, not just for what she'd lost, but for who she was and who she could still become.