AUTHOR'S NOTE: OK, this is VERY important. I deleted the original chapters 21 and 22 for HUGE blunders which would've ruined this whole story so I will edit/repost them but later on.

This chapter is a follow-on from Under the Stars (Chapter 20). Cruel Revelations (Chapters 21 and 22) won't come until later on. C'est claire? Bon. (wait why am I speaking French, haha.) OK enjoy!

I thought that the night we shared would pull our hearts closer. But it only drifted us further away.

In fact, now I had not seen Ziio for nearly six weeks. Six flavourless, wearisome weeks without her to make me smile. Even after I said those words: 'I love you', I wanted to snatch them back. Not that they weren't the truth, of course. Simply that with those words came a burden of responsibility: she would now (I had assumed) expect me to visit frequently, despite the infinite barriers between us. How I wished that I could abandon my busy life, and live suspended between love and work.

But I had duties to perform, and goals to achieve. She was only ever going to obstruct them. I felt like a monster to admit it, but every part of me knew that it was true. My heart ached each time I pictured Ziio: the feel of her smooth lips against mine; her long hair teasing my skin; her soft hands caressing my face. Truly and deeply, I loved her.

But a permanent darkness was instilled in my soul. All I'd ever been taught had left an imprint on my thoughts. They always jerked me away from any distractions, back to my all-important job. The Templar Order was more than my job: it was my life. It was the reason I was not six feet underfoot in a rotting grave. I could not give that all up for a woman. As much as I detested this part of me, I couldn't shake it off. It was there to stay.

What am I to do?

It was clear to me now that I had to choose one or the other. Ziio? Or Templars? What kind of fiendish decision was that? My god, I had never been under so much pressure. I felt like I was being pushed into a sealed crate, with no-one to hear my gasps for air. Each day another heavy crate was placed on top of my own, bringing a terrible gravity with it. Day by day the tower built and sooner or later, it would give way.

"I have seen the land around this region, and it is not a very likely location," said Benjamin.

"Hmm." Charles scratched his chin, pensive for a moment.

Once again the five of us were poring over a map of all the regions we had covered, from Boston right the way to New York. We were highlighting where the precursor site was likely to be situated and – through several weeks' worth of elimination – had narrowed down our search zone to just a couple of regions. Ever since that experience in the cave I'd assumed that it wasn't the right place. Either that or I needed a different key. Or maybe more keys? I didn't know.

"Well, in that case..." His finger slid on the map across the river, skimming over the point where Ziio and I had last met. "I suggest that we begin here. After all, we know the area rather well now. Master Kenway?"

"Hm?" Charles tore me away from where my mind had wandered. "Yes, that would be a wise decision. But I cannot help but feel that we would be...intruding."

"Intruding whom?" William cocked an eyebrow from behind his tankard.

"The Natives. As they have been valuable allies so far, would it not be a little unruly to disrupt their peaceful habitat?"

"Since when 'ave we ever cared about disruptin' peoples' habitats?" Thomas said, slapping his ale down on the table.

I shrugged. "True, true." I wanted to (politely) protest a little further, but what I didn't need was raised suspicions: I was showing too much obvious interest in the Natives' affairs. I had already had one talk with my men about Ziio. I did not have the energy for another. "Yes. We shall begin our search there tomorrow."

The next morning we rose and dressed, and met at the table to check all our equipment. The inn was empty (the day being young) and an unusually peaceful silence filled the wooden walls.

"So...wha' exactly are we doin' with this lot?" Thomas queried, pointing to various tools laid out on the floor.

"We are investigating the area to find any matching symbols. Anything similar to the amulet, in the slightest," I replied.

"Eh?" he barked. "Isn' tha' a bit of a lost cause?"

"Not at all," Charles chuckled, descending the staircase. Clearly he'd been listening in. "Our search zone is narrow and we know precisely what we are looking for."

"Then wha' are we lookin' for? Artefacts? Clues? Keys? Doors?"

"All of them, I suppose," William piped up. "Anything at all. We know all about the storehouse but what we lack to enter it."

Thomas shrugged, but didn't so much as moan when we mounted our horses. When I gave the signal, we galloped through the streets of Boston to the green hills ahead. A whole woodland of searching awaited.

I recall it being a rather hot day, so sweat was quickly running like rain down our foreheads. None of us were too satisfied when we began digging around the cave area. Memories of the evening Ziio and I had embraced in there came flooding back.

Concentrate. Keep digging. Forget about Ziio.

After hours of toil and nothing noteworthy found, Charles and I decided to move a little further away. We sat together by the enormous ditch the five of us had made.

"This is ludicrous," Charles muttered to me. "The First Civilisation were unlikely to have put a key right outside the entrance. Where else do we need to look?"

"You're right," I sighed. "We could follow someone else's ideas. Who else would've been looking for the keys?"

"Braddock, perhaps?" Charles' face suddenly lit up, before falling again. "Dammit. He's dead. Not much use, then."

"No, that's it!"

"What?"

This was all clicking into place. Before he dies, Braddock was marching to Duquesne. The woods was not the quickest route to Duquesne; it hardly took a genius to know that. So he must've had some other purpose in the woods, if he was disrupting Natives. Perhaps...perhaps he was looking for the key as well! He'd travelled along the river before I killed him.

I voiced this thought to Charles. His eyebrows nearly disappeared behind his face. "Yes! It must be somewhere along the army's route to Duquesne! We needn't toil here...we must re-locate to the place of his downfall!"

So we did. We packed up our tools and selfishly left a mess of overturned soil. I had protested, but then I remembered. The other Templars had no interest in disruption to the Natives' land.

The path we rode was simply a reverse of the one Ziio and I took. The memory of her face in the unsaturated sunlight was nearly enough to knock my concentration levels off course. But undeterred, I led us straight to the riverbank. To the sand my very clothing had rested on two months ago, and the earth which was stained with the trail of blood Ziio left. Even now, the slightest brown stain mingled on the sand like a traitor. Faded though it was, the stain was enormous. Enough for the others to notice.

"Crikey," Thomas remarked. "What happened here? Murder?"

"Probably a bear fight," Benjamin suggested.

I ignored him with difficulty, scanning the surrounding tree bark for any symbols etched into it. Charles set to work doing the same; William and Benjamin began unloading the tools from the horses' backs.

Now, according to what I'd been told by my mentor long ago, the said key I needed other than the amulet would be the same as the one strung round my neck. But where would such a thing be located?

If I were the First Civilisation, where would I hide a key?
I would most likely bury it.

My god, it'd take a lot of digging to find it. Were there no more clues? None at all? Great. Thomas was right: this really was a lost cause. Why was I even bothering? And who was to say that – despite all our calculations – this was where it was hidden?

"Listen!" William's sharp shout ripped me from my state.

"What?" Benjamin demanded.

"There are footsteps over the hill," he hissed. "What do you reckon? Redcoats? Natives?"

At the word 'Natives', I froze. Immediately thoughts of Ziio marching over the hill filled my head like a scent of sweetness. But no. I should not assume that. Footsteps echoed down the steep slopes: at least four pairs of feet in unison trudged across the grassland above us.

Everyone was motionless. No-one dared to utter a word. At last, forgetting how suspicious I could've looked, I stepped in.

"Whoever they are, I'll see them off," I whispered.

I grabbed my sword at my side and crept up the hill. My men exchanged glances behind my back; I caught a glimpse of their perplexed faces. Never mind how suspicious they were. I had work to do.

The footsteps seemed to be dimming: the parade was getting further away. If it was redcoats, I'd sure as hell give them a run for their money. But if it was Natives...

A snapped twig on the ground blew my cover. Damn, I cursed as the mystery people stopped. Foreign voices rose in panic. I dived behind the closest tree and tried to peak at who was there.

My eyes flexed when I saw them. It wasn't redcoats after all: just Mohawks. There were three men and one woman all clothed similarly, but the woman looked nothing like Ziio. But one of the men there, tall with jet-black hair, a thin face and small head, looked familiar. Where had I seen him before? Am I supposed to recognise him? Because I don't.

Either way, he turned so he was facing me. I lunged to hide again, but the young man spotted my cloak flying when I moved. His face lit up when he saw me.

"Haytham!" he beamed.

This chapter was split into a lot of sections. Did everybody understand what was going on? I felt it lacked description, but review and tell me.

Can you guess who the mystery 'young man' was? You probably can but I'll put a question on it anyway! :) next update should hopefully be more exciting!