Shay knelt. The blizzard howled between them. “Achilles sent a wounded girl into a winter storm, alone, to chase a rumor?”
She had touched the carving. She had felt the tremor. And she had chosen to walk away from the creed, not toward it. Assassin--39-s Creed Rogue
And somewhere in the frozen North, the ice cracked a little wider, waiting for the next fool who believed that history belonged to the righteous. Shay knelt
He ordered the Morrigan closer. The wreck was a schooner, its mast snapped like a chicken bone, its hull bleeding splinters into the black water. On the forecastle, slumped against a barrel of salted fish, was a young woman in a tattered white hood. She couldn’t have been older than twenty. Her left arm was twisted at a wrong angle, and frost clung to her eyelashes. She had felt the tremor
Shay pressed it into Hope’s good hand.
He stood on the frozen deck of the Morrigan , watching a blizzard erase the world. His new Templar companions, Gist and Monro, trusted him. But trust was a luxury Shay could no longer afford. He had once trusted Achilles Davenport, and that man’s arrogance had killed thousands.
“I’m giving you truth ,” Shay said. “When you feel the earth scream, when you realize that our Brotherhood has been fumbling with forces they don’t understand… you’ll have a choice. Stay loyal to the creed and watch cities burn. Or do what’s right.”