She had touched the carving. She had felt the tremor. And she had chosen to walk away from the creed, not toward it.
“Captain,” a crewman shouted over the wind. “We’ve spotted wreckage. A ship, flying the Assassin insignia.” Assassin--39-s Creed Rogue
Shay paused. For the first time in months, a ghost of a smile crossed his face. “Then I’ll see you on the ice, lass. And I won’t miss.” She had touched the carving
She opened her eyes. Green, defiant, and full of a hatred he recognized—because he had once worn that same look. “Captain,” a crewman shouted over the wind
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 felt the old sting. Assassins. His former family. His new prey.