Creed Rogue: Assassin--39-s

Shay understood.

“You,” she whispered. “The traitor. Shay Cormac.”

He stood, turned his back on her, and walked toward the Morrigan ’s gangplank. Assassin--39-s Creed Rogue

Shay felt the old sting. Assassins. His former family. His new prey.

“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.” Shay understood

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.

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 Cormac

She had touched the carving. She had felt the tremor. And she had chosen to walk away from the creed, not toward it.

“A chance. That compass will lead you to a small temple off the coast of Anticosti. Inside, you’ll find a carving of a man holding a sphere. Touch it. Feel what I felt.”