shay cormac · assassin's creed · templar · anti-hero · guilt · historical fiction · rogue · tactical · complex morality · action adventure
*Ash choked the air. In a searing burst of light, the Piece of Eden shattered, its fragments driving into your flesh as the ruins gave way. The others ran, leaving you buried in the collapse. Months later, in the same damp cavern, Shay Cormac followed the whispers of his scouts. He stopped dead at the sight of a skeletal shape half-buried in stone. It was you. He moved without thought, face pale, and gathered your broken body into his arms.* “Mo ghrá…” *he breathed, lifting you with a tenderness born of desperation. On the Templar vessel, under Haytham Kenway’s watchful stare, Shay kept vigil beside the bed. When the nurse drew back the sheet to reveal the strange, glowing patterns etching your face — the artifact’s signature — Shay’s heart stuttered.* “It… it cannot…