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Jacob groaned as he struggled to push himself up from the ground.
How long had the fight been going? Crawford Starrick wearing the Shroud was invincible, his heighted physical power, all wounds healed in an instant, whereas he and Evie had their power drained by the artifact whenever the templar grandmaster got hold of them. They tried to separate the Shroud from Starrick but couldn’t get close for long. At some point Henry joined in the fight, but Jacob was too dizzied by the choking and the throwing and that damned golden light he couldn’t keep track any more.
Everything seemed to be set on repeat. Threw punches. No harm done. Tried to cut ties. Chokehold. Thrown away. A short black out. Up, here we go again.
Those damned pieces of Eden. Was this what his sister spent so much time researching for?
After what seemed like hours, the twins finally managed to disrupt the templar’s rhythm a little bit. Jacob watched as Evie got one step closer to untie the Shroud. With a grunt he raced forward to join the effort and threw a huge punch at that bloody man’s face. Starrick was caught off-guard but tried to retaliate. But before he could get his footing back, Jacob countered and pushed his hidden blade into Starrick’s chest and hold him on the altar with all his strength.
“Evie!” He yelled.
His sister slashed her cane-sword at the chain of the Shroud.
Seeing that blood started flowing out of Starrick’s chest wound, Jacob retracted the hidden blade and loosened his hold. But at that moment, a ray of gold light burst from the Shroud and engulfed them.
At first it looked like what he would see in his second sight. Except everything shined in a tempting gold instead of the grounded silver. Then it grew ablaze.
As he squinted at the center of the blinding light, the Shroud seemed to grow a life of its own and wrapped itself around his sister’s neck.
A soothing female voice rang in the background, calm but authoritative, “Evie Frye, you are worthy of this sacred piece. You will get what you desired.”
Jacob felt a hint of danger tugging his brain and tried to warn his sister, but the Shroud seemed to create a circle of light around Evie that stopped him from getting close.
Their whole life started to flash before his eyes.
No, not their life…
Jacob watched as a beautiful baby girl was born into the family of assassins.
There were no twin. No childbirth complications.
The mother lived. The father never left.
He watched as the family of three led a happy life in the town of Crawley. He watched as the mother brought the girl pants and cape and taught her how to braid her hair. He watched as the father brought the girl books and taught her how to throw a wooden knife.
He watched the father returned from his business trip to India, along with a boy a few years older than the girl. The father announced proudly that the boy would become their adopted son.
He watched as the girl and the boy studied the creed together, climbed the rooftops together, trained together.
He watched the girl grew to be how she always would be, deadly and beautiful. He watched the boy grew to be a leader, reliable and intelligent. He watched as they shared their first kiss.
He watched as the now family of four moved to London under the guidance of the Council. The family freed the people from Templars’ control, and kept the boroughs in peace and order. They took care of the templars in higher up positions and replaced them with honorable people. They located the Shroud and kept it safe in the crypt he was standing in now. He watched as she became master assassin. He watched as the young couple moved to work with the Indian brotherhood.
He watched as these visions flared and shined, enveloping everything else, as the Shroud wrapping itself tighter on Evie’s torso.
No no no no no!
Jacob felt anger raged through his heart as he lunged towards her.
He would not be written away so easily! He would not allow it!
The golden rim seemed to sense his intentions. He felt burning sensations on his right hand as he desperately tried to reach for the Shroud and tug it off Evie.
More visions attacked his eyes all at once, this time familiar visions, memories. The noise of pub brawls. The blood in the underground fight club. The cold rain on the rooftop when he sneaked out of their house at nights. Rooks and jackdaws, loud as they flew past his head. The countrymen avoided them, thought them as bad omens of trickery and death. But he grew to love them, so loud and carefree as they were.
Is that what he is? An omen of chaos and destruction, an accident waiting to happen?
Visions struck past him, his every decision, his every mistake in London, the aftermaths, the chaos he caused. Everywhere there was fire, everything burned. He saw flashes of Alhambra, of the factory full of working children, of St Pancras, of the storage yard of omnibuses. He heard screams and shouts and cries directed at him. He heard that man’s word again. Why not Jacob, why not?
And at the end, past the fire and the screams and the smoke and the rain, he saw where it started. Before they parted ways.
“Then shall we?” “Yes. Let’s.”
He finally got hold of the burning fabric, and heard a grown from Evie as the Shroud was dragged away from her layer by layer.
No I am not sorry Evie.
Jacob felt a tear fall down his face as he continued to stare at the center of the blinding light, refusing to blink, at the person he had known all his life. With a yelp he mustered all his strength and finally pulled the Shroud to the ground which sent a shockwave throwing them to the ground.
As quickly as it started, it stopped.
It was as if nothing had ever happened. He raised his head slightly. He saw Crawford Starrick, lying in his own pool of blood. He saw Evie on the ground, her back turned to him, slowly regaining her senses,.
He watched as Evie and Henry reached to each other, soft words exchanged between them. He watched as she leaned forward for a kiss.
He grunted as he tore his sight away and got up on his own. He glanced at his right hand expecting to find burnt marks all over it, but it was good as new. He then turned his focus on his final mission. He reached for the Shroud on the ground, its intricate patterns sparkling with dimmed light, something he would most likely never understand. He folded it away and put it back on the altar.
Evie seemed to finally notice they were not alone. She turned back, first caught sight of the Shroud, then her deep blue eyes slowly moved to him.
He watched as her eyes changed from confusion to recognition to dread, as she stared at him wide eyed and mouths open.
Was that real? Did you see? Do you remember? What will happen now? Have I trod a path too close to the enemy? Have I angered you? Have I disappointed you? What will become of you? Of us? Of London? What am I to you? What am I to the Brotherhood?
Would it be better… if I’m not around?
A thousand questions rang in his head all at once, the last one but a small voice. But somehow he felt more composed than he had ever been.
Whatever happens, Evie, I would carry on and find my peace with the Creed.
He stood by the Shroud as he watched Evie stumbling to stand up, eyes wide and mouths agape. He almost wanted to tease her for looking so out of control for once. How interesting that for once in their lifetime, he was the calm and collected twin. He would remember to remind her of this moment all the time, if he had the chance.
He watched as Evie moved towards him, step by step, not breaking eye contact. Her hands slowly rested on his arms, as if unsure of his reaction. He did not move.
“Brother… I am so sorry.”
He watched her blue eyes glitter with light as she spoke softly, her arms pulling him closer into a tight hug. He felt her body shivering as she sobbed quietly.
Acting on instinct, his hands found the back of his siter’s head as he gently touched her braids. Like how he used to comfort her after a nightmare when they were children.
He felt she tensed after the touch, probably reminded of the same thing, then started shivering even more.
I am sorry too. I’ve missed you. He wanted to say. But the words felt heavy on his chest, as he remembered the ache still tugging at his heart. A place without Jacob Frye, and what a bloody beautiful place that was.
He suddenly felt very tired.
“It will be alright.” He sighed, not sure whom he’s speaking to.
It will be alright.