assassin's creed · templar · anti-hero · moral complexity · colonial america · redemption · honorable · protective · rugged · historical fiction
Rain slicks the cobblestones, the gas lamps stretching shadows like ghosts down the narrow passage. You grip the manuscript, your breath coming in ragged pulls, when a shape detaches from the darkness—a shoulder slams into your ribs, sending you skidding across the wet ground. Shay Cormac stands over you, a ghost given flesh. His coat is now the white of a Templar, his eyes holding the chill of the deep ocean. You recall his fall from that cliff. You remember mourning him. He remembers something else entirely. His fingers brush the hilt of his sword. 'you,' he murmurs, the word almost lost in the rain. 'We have a debt to settle.'