𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐄𝐝𝐞𝐧 | 𝘈𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯'𝘴 𝘊𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥 |

11 | 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

It has been a few hours since Desmond entered the Animus to look for the Apple, the clicks and beeps from their devices breaking the silence. I fiddle with the strap on my bracer, loosening it and checking the blade, a satisfying swish emanating from the ancient weapon.

"How long have you been an Assassin for? Since the old days?." Hastings voice fills my ears as I continue to fumble with the weapon.

"No, much later. This.. nonsense of Assassins and Templars didn't exist there, so neither did these. And I'm not an Assassin, just an ally that was gifted with your primary choice to kill." I answer truthfully, a thin brow rising in his face.

"Who made you an ally?." Genuine curiosity sparks from the man as he looks at me.

"Someone from long ago, the first person to find and explore the powers of the Apple. He helped me get it back, and in return, I would help to bring closure to a few of his problems. Before we separated, he gave me this blade, covered in gold from the bracer to the tip." I can't help bring the memories forward, his fiercesome spirit and dedication to his morals and family. In short, the most honorable human I ever had the pleasure of meeting.

I run my fingertips over the edge of the sharp object, stopping it over my right ring finger and applying small force, prompting a small drop of unique blood to run down to my own hand, where it fell and covered a medium sized scar running across. The evidence of my promise to him.

Hastings runs off and grabs a few of the napkins that came with their food, placing them gently around my finger and hand, finger treading carefully when he saw the scar.

"Peculiar looking scar, what happened?." He applies a few more napkins to pick up the excess blood, brown eyes analyzing the old wound.

I grin as I remember his words.

'May this weapon strike as true as your word. May your path be rewarded by the downfall of your enemies. And may the Hidden One guide you to eternal glory.'

His voice in my head still sounds the same, rough but with a hint of compassion behind. Demanding but patient. My admiration never dwindling. A sense of nostalgia fills me as I place the blade on Hastings' desk, the memories of a simpler life overwhelming me.

It is all a blur, but Hastings shuffles me to sit on his stool. I let go of the mountain if napkins and hold on to the desk, feeling how the air leaves my lungs. I admit, I still detest that that malàkes sorry excuse of a god put me in this position, but I wouldn't have met important people that helped me shape my own thoughts and ways.

The feeling of dread passes quickly, allowing me to hear everything again, this time its a mix between Hastings and Desmond's voice.

"Deimos, are you okay? Can you hear me?." Desmond's smooth voice greets me and I take a look at him. Hastings slightly panicked face behind him, with Crane cussing in the back.

I nod and blink quickly, getting up and shaking his hands from my shoulders in an unceremonious way, stunning them in the process, I harden my features and glance to them.

"Have you found it?." I ask, my anger at my own moment of weakness seating off on the wrong person.

"I.. are you?—uh, yes, I—I did. Colosseum. U—under the Colosseum." He staggers in his words, anxious at my behavior. Or probably about our conversations mere hours ago, who knows.

"Let's go, we can get there before dawn." I start to walk off, grabbing the Hidden Blade and strapping it on again, and adjusting the weight of my sword on my hip. Leaving everyone behind.

Before I can make it up the stairs I hear Crane's voice calling out to me.

"Yo, Deimos! Uh, what do we do with.. this?." I turn and take a look at what she's pointing at.

The desk has a large golden smear along with a messed up golden handprint. I look at my finger and notice how its still oozing blood, I swear in my tongue and grab the first piece of cloth I see, wrapping it around my digit even tighter, panic slightly overcoming me.

"Wipe it off and set fire to it. Leave no trace for the Templars." I can't help but divert my eyes to Stillman, who holds a strange look of interest and fascination at my blood on the table.

"Wait, set fire to it? We could upload it to the database! The one we keep for our members." I glare daggers towards Hastings at his suggestion, the male quickly looking down, an embarrassed shade of red going up his neck.

"No. It's the only way to erase all traces. Do as I say." I hear Desmond whisper 'aye, captain' as I continue to exit the Villa.

I shake my head as I round the corner of the staircase. My moment of weakness bringing out my old version, the one I have decided to leave behind for the time being as to not make them uncomfortable.

I call myself a million and a half names while I walk, panic now setting over me. The second end is near.

I shake my head and grab it by the sides, not willing to let the memories of the terror and anguish of the first time to consume me. We are bound to die, him and I. That will not happen, these humans, who fought gods and wars to maintain the world, freedom and the peace they always wanted, will not vanish again.

And if I can spare him from this ending, then I will.