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.
She had become, like him, a ghost between worlds. Assassin--39-s Creed Rogue
“He always does,” Shay said quietly. He reached into his coat and pulled out a small, dented compass. Not the one that pointed north. This one had been modified by Benjamin Franklin—a useless invention that pointed not to magnetic poles, but to the nearest source of Isu energy. It was the compass that had led him to Lisbon. To the earthquake. To his damnation. He stood on the frozen deck of the
She opened her eyes. Green, defiant, and full of a hatred he recognized—because he had once worn that same look. He had once trusted Achilles Davenport, and that