A/N: I will apologize for the wait for this chapter, especially considering the next is the long awaited reunion between Asgeir and Elsa. But know that this chapter is very important to the whole plot, and I wanted to make sure it was written correctly. I had several friends who played and enjoyed Rogue critique this chapter to ensure I wrote it correctly, so that's why it took so long. I'm very excited because this is where we really begin to dive deep into the secrets Asgeir had discovered in his exile, and why he is hiding them from his brothers. Plus I hope you all have done your homework and have looked into Year Walk, because it will serve as the framing device of all the flashbacks for this sequence. Thank you, and enjoy.

Chapter 31: Past- Huldra

January 1st 2012 12:05 AM

The pain in my stomach burned through me as I trudged through the woods, wishing I had been able to eat for the day. Whether it was what pushed me forwards, or whatever the Masters wanted me to see from this walk, I had no idea. I had no real idea of what I was supposed to do for this Year Walk, aside from what I had done: eat nothing for a whole day, never leave my cabin until midnight on New Year's Eve, and start walking north.

Over a week ago, on the winter solstice, I opened a package given to me by the Masters, the secret organization of long dead Master Assassins that operate at an even higher level of secrecy than the Assassins. They told me that ever since my banishment to the Gates almost six years ago, there were events that were being set in motion that would eventually lead to my release and my chance at revenge against Ingrid. I was told that in order for things to start moving forwards on my part, I had to first take the Year Walk.

Year Walking was a long forgotten tradition that the Scandinavians practiced. It was said that whoever completed the Year Walk properly, by spending a whole day without eating, drinking, or even seeing daylight, then leaving his home at midnight, and working his way to the local church, they could be able to see the future through visions shown to them on their Year Walk. But this was not without mythological dangers. Five watchers of all of time and space await those who seek the visions of the future, rigging the game at every turn. Never has it ever been heard of someone who Year Walked and survived the wrath of the Watchers. There was even one report of a boy in the late 19th century that killed himself right before he began his walk.

But something from beyond time and space was waiting for me. A message? Something important that the Masters could not have been able to show me before. I needed to see it for myself.

I had no idea how this was even supposed to work. A Year Walk is not supposed to work properly without a church to wander around, and the closest one would be in Merritt. Yet, the last thing that would surprise me would be a church suddenly appearing out of nowhere. But I got something a little bit different as I stomped through the snow.

The Gates had an appropriate title, cosndiering where it was. It's still a secret now, but the most I can say is somewhere between Merritt, Kamloops, and Hell's Gate. All in the untamed wilderness of the British Columbian Interior. From where I was put, it would take a lot of climbing and walking to even think about getting out. I had to make frequent trips to either town for supplies considering I wasn't left a car or any way of getting out and had only my pack to carry what I needed, and a small cabin to live in. I could starve myself and save myself the effort, but that would make me feel like I really was dying, even if that wasn't possible. Not yet, anyways.

Even to this day, I have no idea how Ingrid was able to inflict such a curse on me. Best guess I have is that the ice in my heart reacted to the Shards of Shattered Sight in my mind, and was somehow able to "freeze" my body into this state. You try and cut my head off? The wound would stitch itself back together before the blade even came out the other side of my neck.

So there I walked. Through the mountainous slopes that the Gates were nestled right inside, and the landscape seemed to change right before my very eyes in the darkness. I kept silent as I watched in awe. The pine trees shortened and seemed to rot, turning to giant dead stakes jagging out of the snowy ground. The hills seemed to flatten around me as well, and I kept moving without any words.

Cue Daniel Olsen "Rorliga Bilder"

Every step I took did not bring me any comfort in the light that was being shone on what I needed to understand as the winter landscape finished it's haunting metamorphosis before me. I could feel only two things: certainty I was no longer in the Gates, or even the Interior anymore, that I had travelled through time and space to somewhere I did not belong. And dread. Utter, frightening dread.

There was something larger at work here. Something that the Masters were trying to make me go through to toy with me. This would lead me to the truth. But the path towards it only made me feel even worse. And nothing could make it feel any better. Not even when I got my first glimpse of what was waiting for me in the dark woods.

A small wooden hut stood before me underneath a large oak tree with a few leaves just barely hanging onto it's branches. Barely taller than me, I sensed that what I was to face, these Watchers, had left behind something to lead me to them in that hut. I walked inside, ducking my head underneath the entrance as I flicked out my lighter. After a few sparks from the wheel, I caught a flame and cast the room aglow with amber. A rope hung from the ceiling tied in a small noose at the end, with a small wooden doll of a girl on the end, it's eyes seemed to be crudely scratched into it's face, and the crevices filled with the wine of life. It's arms hung at it's sides and two carvings of owls were etched into the walls behind it, from where it hung almost perfectly in the dead center. The air in my throat froze anxiously, but I knew that this was the first clue that the Watchers had left me. The first clue I needed to solve to move on.

I held my lighter tightly in my left hand as I grabbed the doll. I tried pulling it's neck out of the noose, but it was on too tight. I then set my lighter down on the ground by my foot to try pulling it out again. As I did, I felt the doll's neck twist unnaturally in my hands. In surprise, I let go, my eyes wide as I gazed at the doll. As soon as I let go of it's neck, the doll's head spun back into place, swinging on the rope it hung from. I imagined that this hangman's daughter had a bad fascination with her father's occupation to do this to her doll.

It seemed the only thing the doll could do was turn it's head, so by instinct, I grabbed the doll's head and started turning it around. I kept turning it over and over as much as I could, feeling the old mechanism inside creak and crack as if it had not been used since it was made in the dawn of time. But when it could turn no more, I let go of it and let it swing freely.

Cue Daniel Olsen "Vaggvisa"

The doll's head began to turn back the way it had been wound up. As it did a eery song played from a music box inside, and the doll began to raise it's arm into a pattern. Pointing at one owl, and then the next one beside it. Then the first one, and then that first one again. All the while it's head kept turning around and around in time to the song. I started to notice the pattern in how the doll was pointing it's arms at the owl carvings, when it's head turned one last time as the song ended. I damn near fell backwards as the doll gazed at me. It's face had changed! Now drenched in blood and eyeing me angrily. Like I had violated it by listening to that song and wanted to punish me in return. I had to be brave, so I glared back at the doll.

"I've been punished enough, thank you very much." I replied. "I have not died a thousand-thousand times before, and I won't die tonight."

It wasn't the doll I needed to take with me. It was the pattern of how it was pointing it's arms at the owl carvings. I grabbed the head again, taking as little notice as I could at the doll's bloody face, and wound the head up again. I noticed with a shiver how the face changed back to the first one the next time it was facing me as I turned it's head over and over again and let it go to listen to the song once more.

After the sixth time of listening to the song, I had the pattern that the arms pointed in branded to my mind. I turned and walked out of the hut, taking my lighter off from the ground as I did so.

As I walked back out into the freezing snow, I heard something. Something that I had been prepared for from the few books the Masters sent me. I heard high melodic singing in the darkness of the forest. Far off in the flat and desolate lands I could hear it, like a mermaid's singing. But I knew what this monster really was.

Like a siren or any other magical seductress, the Huldra would be the first Watcher I would face. It was often thought by the Norse that she was the mother of the forest, and she decided the fates of every hunter that dared to walk through her woods. If she thought his hunt was just, she would blow down the barrel of the hunter's rifle, blessing his hunt. But if he did not respect her power, she would show him her true face. And the thing about siren creatures is that they have two faces. One to lure their victims, and one…

The singing kept getting clearer and closer as I walked on through the night. I was more afraid than ever. The last time I had seen something that looked beautiful, it destroyed everything I loved. I wanted so badly to try to go back to my cabin, but I didn't think it was possible anymore. I was no longer in The Gates. This was the Norse regions. And it wasn't 2012 anymore. I could think hard and I knew the current year: 1894. My father told me once that courage is not the domination over fear, but rather the admission that it's there. If that was the case, then I was the bravest soul walking the forest with the Watchers waiting for me. These weren't monsters I was about to face. They were gods.

The singing was growing louder and louder, until finally I could hear it right in front of me. Tensing up, I leaned around the tree I could hear the singing coming from, ready for the worst.

The Huldra stood before me, pale and enchanting. A crown of pink roses and twigs held her hair in a tight bun, her face a terrifying white to go with her gown, which held a number of small green leaves weaved within the fabric. Her hands seemed to be encrusted with the bark of a tree, much like the one that she was standing in front of. But the tree was withered and barren as much as the forest we were standing in. She looked down at me, then looked over at the tree with sadness.

"What do you want with me?" I asked, as courteously as I could.

The Huldra did not answer. She held out her hand and grasped the tree branch closest to her. The tree instantly sprung back to life, the leaves turning a deep shade of green and the bark a rich earth colored brown. Even the snow covered ground that the Huldra stood on melted away and flowers bloomed beneath her feet. She was almost like Elsa, except she took away the snow and brought life. But could she bring death just as easily?

I wanted to speak again, but I was more fixed on what the tree was doing. A light that came from within it seemed to carve a large hole in it's trunk. When the light went all the way around, carving out the "door", the Huldra glided over to the trunk and opened it. She glanced back to me, and beckoned, the sad expression still on her face. She wanted me to follow her.

And I would have, if the door didn't slam shut the second she went inside. I ran over and tried to force the door open, but it didn't budge. Five times I tried to open the door, practically breaking my arm on the fourth try. I felt it put itself back into place as I tried on the other side of my body to force the door open on the fifth try. After I bounced off the door that time, I heard a screech above.

Two owls had suddenly appeared on the branches above the tree. As soon as I saw them, my focus to that doll came back to me. I got up, and after thinking it over for a second, pointed right at the owl on the left. It screeched at me in return, and it gave me all I needed to know how to open the door.

Remembering the pattern the doll had given me back in that hut, I pointed at the owls in exactly the same order that they were given to me. As soon as I pointed at the owl on the right one last time, both of them screeched in unison, then flew off, the door to the tree swinging open. I didn't think anything at all, because now I knew that there was only one way I could go. No thoughts, no words, and no questions asked, I clambered into the tree.

It was much larger on the inside than I expected. It was dark inside, but a candle on a table nearby lit up the room only slightly, and a letter was right beside it on the desk. However, when I looked closer to read it, things around me began to change once more, and I was no longer where I had been again, nor was I Asgeir anymore.

January 1778

By the candlelight of my office, I read the letter over again. Master Haytham had it sent to me only weeks before, though I hadn't seen the man in over a month.

Shay,

Though I commend you for your services to the Templar Order in the past year, especially with the dispatching of Charles Dorian only a year ago, it gives me regret to know that our business with the Colonies is not yet finished. Both of our efforts to ensure peace in the Colonies have resulted in the deaths of both our brothers Johnson and Pitcairn, at the hands of my own son, Connor. Thomas Hickey recently has been dealt with by him, and now Benjamin Church means to undermine us by defecting to the Loyalists. Through these troubling times, it brings me no other option but to ask the most out of you, though your loyalty to the Order says to me that you will not fail us. I ask that you and Master Gist meet me at the Green Dragon Tavern on the 27thof January, as I have a job that may be the most important one of your lives yet. I don't trust a courier to deliver the instructions to you, and request that it be given to you by me personally.

Sincerely, Grand Master Haytham Kenway.

I sat back in my chair as I finished reading the letter one last time. Master Kenway was never one to exaggerate, so it troubled me to think that he was saying that this would be the most he was asking out of Gist and I. What could be more than what he had me do, by turning on my own kin who cast me out? Or spending damn near twenty years to find the Box. Though I didn't think of it like most did. The Templars took me in when I was left for dead by the Assassins. I'd give my life, and much more for them if I had to. And from what Master Kenway seemed to imply with how his words spoke of, that was exactly what he expected us to give.

I heard a knock at my office door.

"Captain?" I heard.

I rubbed my eyes. "Come in, Mr. Gist." I replied.

With his black hat of a frontiersman and brown beard, Christopher Gist walked into the office.

"Captain. I trust you received the same letter I was just sent by Master Kenway, correct?"

"Yes indeed, Gist."

"Captain, I don't mean to put words in the Grand Master's mouth, but I think he means for us to leave the Colonies once and for all."

I shook my head, scowling. "You might be right, Gist." I said. "It's that damn native that Achilles took in. I heard Master Kenway's workin' with the boy. That may be our undoin' if he doesn't mean to kill the boy when the time is right."

"You don't seem to have any respect for this boy's convictions, do you Sir?"

"I can't morally have any respect for someone who can still support that old crone after everythin' he has done."

"Yet I have heard things in the Frontier. He's gained the respect of a lot of us hunters, and he's even helped turn the Homestead into a real settlement. I'd say that is worth something on our part. The boy's no less deluded for taking the hood, but what he has done for those close to him is admirable."

I didn't give a real opinion to that. Gist had his ways, and I had mine. I still wasn't sure if I ever respected Achilles. "Let's get going, Gist. Master Kenway is expecting us."

The Green Dragon Tavern had gone through a lot of changes in the recent years since the Revolution had started. People like the Sons of Liberty had been using it as a place of conspiring, so it was almost fitting that Master Kenway would be asking us to use this place as our meeting. He had made every effort to ensure that we would not be interrupted.

The owner, a woman by the name of Catherine Kerr, took us up to the table at the top floor of the tavern.

"Yer friend said 'ee would be 'ere soon. Told me tah keep this room locked up tight for yah."

"Thank you kindly, Ms. Kerr." Gist said, handing a pound coin to the lady.

She chuckled and walked down the stairs.

Minutes later, Master Kenway walked into the tavern to meet with us upstairs. Gist and I looked down as we saw him walk in, though he was not alone.

The boy was tall, with black hair and olive skin like his native mother. But there was just as much of Master Kenway in him as well. A permanent frown seemed to be branded to his face, and his black hair was tied back in a tail. He wore the hood a lot like the one that I used to wear. Did the old man give them to him and then start teaching him in his sorry and corrupt ways?

"Connor, I must ask that you wait outside." Haytham said to his son.

"Of course, Father." He snarked. "I will do exactly that." Though he did not move.

"Connor."

I noticed the boy glance angrily up at Gist and I as he turned for the door and walked out. Haytham looked up at us as well, and sighed as he walked up to the balcony.

"My apologies, Masters Cormac and Gist. He may be my son, but he still clings onto the hood with a little too much pride."

"I don't see why you keep that boy alive, Master Kenway." I said, Gist and I sitting down. "He may not show yah the same mercy."

"I may have to agree with Shay, Grand Master." Gist said. "From what little I've heard about him in the Frontier, he's going to be a big problem for us sooner than later. I can at least respect him as a hunter, but not at all as an Assassin."

"Let me handle my son, Master Gist." Haytham replied, still standing. "Now onto the matters that we have to discuss."

"Is this about Church's betrayal of the Order, sir?" I asked.

"Not entirely, Shay. No." He replied. "Benjamin Church will be dealt with by me personally once Connor and I track him down. He's escaped our grasp for now. But as for you two, I have something that might be even more delicate than the matter of the Colonial Precursor sites. Can I count on you both?"

"Aye, sir." I replied. "With every bone in my body."

"Excellent." Haytham replied, smiling. "I expected nothing less."

He took a few steps and looked down to the floor below from the edge of the balcony, before coming back to the table and placing a small-medium wooden box on the table.

"I would tell you everything that this mission details, my friends. But unfortunately, this is of the highest sensitivity. Only a small handful of Templars and Assassins alike are even aware of this secret that has been kept locked up since the dawn of our struggle."

"Sir? What are you even talking about?" Gist asked.

Haytham looked down at my first mate, and then at me. "What do either of you believe in? Would anything come as a surprise to you anymore, based on what we have seen of the Precursors?"

"Not anymore, sir." I replied. "Mind controlling apples, swords, a golden blanket that heals all wounds. What else can there even be left that would surprise us?"

"Another world, for a start. Or worlds, plural." Haytham said. As soon as he said it, he looked downwards, aware of what Gist and I were both thinking. Even with all that we had seen, it was still too much. Worlds?! There was still more out there we hadn't found since Columbus landed here in the New World? "I cannot continue of this, though. I have said too much. Except this one last piece: Shay, you have done more for our Order than any one of us can even begin to thank you for. It is because of this, that by completing your mission, I will be installing you as the Grand Master in this New World."

I stood up suddenly. Grand Master? Master Haytham himself thought highly of me just as Monroe did. But to be given such a title? Gist had been in the Order a lot longer than I had, so why was I getting it? I glanced at my first mate, who only gave his old grin and bowed his head.

"You honour me beyond words, Sir." I replied, looking back at him. "But what about the Colonies? I can't leave behind all I held here."

"I am afraid that that is exactly what you will need to do, Shay." Haytham replied. "Both you and Master Gist will never return to this world because of your mission. You are our last hope should we fail in the Colonies. And should I die before our work is done, Charles will take over as Grand Master here. I wish I could explain more, but I can't risk someone listening in." He eyed the edge of the balcony as he said so, maybe checking if his savage son had gone back inside and was now listening. Or if anyone was listening. "This is of the highest sensitivity, and it cannot fall into the wrong hands. I would settle your affairs and make your goodbyes soon enough, gentlemen. Time is of the essence."

"Agreed, sir." Gist said, standing up as well. "We will not let you down."

"Aye." I replied.

"Very well then." Haytham placed his hand over his heart along with me and Gist. "May the Father of Understanding guide us."

"May the Father of Understanding guide us." We recited.

Back in my cabin of the Morrigan, I was going about opening the box while Gist was making the preparations of the ship and the crew for our journey. Haytham told us before we left that we would need her and a proper crew for our quest, so he had gone about hiring people who were in the midst of leaving the colonies, trying to avoid the war. We would need as much help as we could get if we were to succeed.

The box was a reddish brown mahogany with the Templar cross carved into the lid. I undid the latch and flipped it up, looking inside at the various items inside. What jumped out at me at first were the number of Templar rings inside it. I understood what they meant by the number. I was to start a whole new branch from the ground up to this world that we were going to.

I found a folded paper with a wax seal on it, and a date written across it's fold: "To be read by Shay Patrick Cormac, written by Haytham Kenway in the month of July in 1774."

So he had been thinking well enough ahead to write a letter like this several years ago. It looked the lightest shade of yellow just to reflect on it's years it had been tucked away in since. I opened it up, reading closely to what the letter said.

"Shay,

It has been years since I have last seen you, but I have been keeping in steady contact with you since with your continuing efforts to find what I have asked you for. However, your mission with finding the Precursor box is one of the least of my worries now. As of a few weeks ago, William Johnson was murdered at the hands of the Assassin, Connor. Clearly this native has been sought out by Achilles, or more likely, he sought the hermit out himself instead. But now he is a full-fledged Assassin, fully determined to destroy everything that we have secured with the crippling of the Colonial brotherhood.

But all is not lost, though things are becoming less and less hopeful with each passing week. If you are reading this letter, it means that I have been forced to turn to the last resort a little earlier than I planned to. If so, this means that I doubt my survival if I am unsuccessful in attempting to dispatch the Assassin myself, or at the very least, try to turn him to our cause.

Over twenty years ago, I was sent by the previous Grand Master of the Order, Reginald Birch, to the Colonies. He had been obsessed with finding Precursor sites, and was sure that there was a site in the valleys of the Frontier, possibly the biggest find in the history of our war. He sent me to the Colonies to establish a permanent branch, and to find the precursor sites there. And now, I ask the same of you.

In the box, you will find a small item wrapped in white parchment. Not too bigger than the tip of your thumb, it is the key to entering this world. There, I am certain you will find enough nobles and commoners alike who would be more than willing to join our cause there under your guidance. A friend by the name of Keiran Roscoe will be waiting for you when you make port, as he has been a regular contact of mine in this other world. He will be your guide to the land, and will help you try to find the Precursor sites of the kingdom and unearth their secrets. The other documents in the box are all that I was able to gather on the sites there. It is not much, but I may not even know where to begin since I have never been there. If you go there yourself, the clues might show you the way much clearer than they have to me.

Learn all you can, unearth the secrets, and bring forth the coming of a new world with this mission I have given you, Shay. You may not be able to ever return to this world again, but you can start something new there yourself. Because you have never failed me before, and for that I have faith in you, my friend. May the Father of Understanding guide us all.

Yours, Haytham Kenway.

Even now, after everything that I had been through, this seemed like the most I was being asked to do. Leaving behind nearly every brother I had ever known in the Order, and starting anew. Though Chris was my closest friend and ally through everything, so I was not leaving behind everyone. Still, I felt as though there was one person left for me to say goodbye to. The Finnegans had both passed away in the first half of this decade, Chris was going with me, and everyone else I cared for I knew would be just fine trying to take on that boy that took the old bastard's son's name.

That boy. Connor. It surprised me how Gist could look at him in one good light, yet still think of him as a fool for taking the hood like I once did. I never thought that one could respect and still hate another. To me it was always one or the other. Because anyone who I hated was not worth my respect if I gave it a first thought. But I only sat there, giving second thoughts. And I hated the one I was thinking of, but in a strange way, I could still respect him for some things. He took me in as a recruit, and made me feel welcome in the Brotherhood at first. Maybe it would be worth it to make one last trip to see what the Homestead had become.

The place looked much different than it had been when last I had been there. I had Gist drop anchor a few kilometers north of the property, correctly assuming the presence of the Morrigan would only call the whole Homestead up in arms. William Faulkner, Adewale's last first mate was now serving on the boy's ship and would probably recognize the very ship that beached his captain before her captain killed him.

Adelwale was the last person I wanted to turn against. I disliked every Assassin equally, but none of them knew their Creed like he did. I truly had hoped he would have forgave me when I ended him.

The only building I remembered from before was the old manor on the hill. Everywhere else I saw new places. This was no longer a homestead to me. It was a real settlement. Though I doubted the old man was the one who invited all these people onto his property. After Abigail and Connor died, he had never been more reclusive. And he still was, from what little I had heard of him.

It became a lot harder to even come close to doing what I came here to do when I reached the door. I heard a few voices inside, but I couldn't make out any of what they were saying. It was late in the afternoon, and no one was walking past the manor, so I thought it be best to look through a window instead, maybe seeing what I came to see that way.

I spotted him in the kitchen. He was sitting down while two people helped out. One was a middle aged man with glasses, who I saw could easily pass for Master Franklin's angry younger brother. The other was a woman working at a wood stove.

"Please, Ellen." Achilles groaned. "I am quite capable of fixing my own meals."

"Achilles, that leg of yours has swollen up again." The man fussed. "You'll have to stay off it completely for the foreseeable future."

"Lyle-"

"Not another word, Achilles. Not one more."

It's what he got from Haytham, that shattered leg. I still think that it was what he deserved, no matter what good he tried to do in the world.

What would I even say to him, I asked myself. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time, but now I saw something else. I wasn't angry at him anymore. He was suffering from his shot knee still, but he had regained, and possibly understood, the sense of community that the Assassins should have been. What he led, were not what I thought a brotherhood would have been. Chevalier loved to torment and ridicule me at every turn, and there was that time he clocked me in the face for simply speaking my mind while we were in the North Atlantic. Kesegowaase and Hope, they just never believed that I had the potential to do any good. And Liam… of all the people I turned to when I saw how Achilles refused to listen to the truth, to blind with grief from his family's passings, I had hoped that even my best friend would have seen the truth. Instead he turned on me like all the rest.

But this was what had been of this place. What it was now was what I saw when I was walking up to the manor, seeing the church, and the inn, and the mill. What I saw with those two people as they helped him around the house. The old bastard had found his sense of community that he was missing. It was truly a real symbol of hope. The boy, Connor would fail as I almost knew he would, but I at least hoped that this place would be here to stay for as long as the blood of every person there still ran.

The old man was still arguing of how his leg was "fine" as I got up from my crouched position. I could not bring myself to go inside, though even today I still wonder if it was shame for what I did, or just bitterness towards him.

"I hope yer boy knows the truth, Achilles. I hope he knows everythin'. Of how you failed me, and how yah failed your brotherhood. Of how yer whole world came crumblin' down because you were too busy grievin' for yer family. I hope he knows, or will know." Did he see me? I could have sworn he looked right at me as I finished whispering this to him. "If he does know it, then know this: If I ever return to this world, and he has done what Haytham fears he has; taken every Templar from this life, then I will wipe his existence clean from this world, and every single one of his own recruits, and everyone he truly cares for. If he and I ever face each other once more as we had seen one another today, I will make it worth the savage's time. Farewell, Achilles."

This place was like an old friend I hadn't seen for years, but I was more than glad to see it gone, no matter how much good it brought other people.

We had been out on the open water for nearly a whole day by the time that I felt that it was time. Gist was getting anxious from all the sailing, and as the sun began to set, he came up from below decks.

"Captain, the crew seem to be getting just as antsy as I am. May I please know more about where it is that we are going?"

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the little object Haytham had left me, handing it to Chris. The key to this world, and the paper that went with it.

"You can do more than that, Mister Gist. I would like yah to do the honours."

He stared down at the little thing. "What do I do with this, Captain?"

"Read the word that is written on the parchment, Gist." I said. "Think of it as hard as you can, and then throw the crystal into the sea as far as you can. I will do the rest."

"Aye, sir." He looked down at the parchment and mouthed the words to himself. "Are...are… Arendelle?"

"Good, Gist. Throw the crystal. We have our destination."

Gist wound back his hand as far as he could, and the crystal shot off the ship and into the water. When it hit it, the water collapsed in on itself and a massive hole appeared. Most of the crew saw this and screamed with fright, and even Gist looked very much spooked. But I only stared down hard as I steered the Morrigan right for the pit.

Arendelle. So that was the name of this kingdom Haytham wanted me to find. To begin the Templars anew there, and ensure that we survive if Connor would not back down. I felt the ship lean forwards deeply as the whole deck became soaked in small droplets of water, the smell of the salt stinging my nose. Then darkness.

January 1st 12:07 AM

Shay. He had been to Arendelle. After everything he did, and after he killed Dorian, he had been given the key to travel across the gaps of time and space into our world. He must have been the one who started the whole thing. He was the reason that the Templars were in the Enchanted Forest. But that wasn't what truly hit my heart with fright. It was as though I had seen those images as if they were my own memories. But this is not uncommon to feel so, as I learned that the merging of one's memories into another's mind would feel like that.

That was what the Masters had wanted me to see. Something in those pages, Shay had done something in Arendelle. Something that Matthew had hidden to save his own skin. Of that I was sure of.

In the darkness, I stood, hearing a faint dripping sound much like I did when I first met the Masters. Shay had crossed through the boundaries in time and space through the crossings. But the year walk was making me one who snuck through the border instead. Swimming across the rivers instead of taking the bridges. And this was what I needed to see.

Suddenly, she stood before me. The Huldra. She was singing faintly to herself with her angelic voice. Almost reminded me of Anna's.

"Shay Patrick Cormac. Is he who you wanted me to see?"

She opened her eyes. They were white. No irises or pupils. She looked dead at me.

"I have questions. I have found you, so will you answer them?"

She began to twitch…

Very few have seen the Huldra's face and lived. And even fewer have gone on living after seeing it instead of killing themselves out of fright. And I am the only one who did so, as well as remain as sane as I could. Yet, I found myself back in the woods still screaming at what I had seen in her face. And the other things she had shown me. Though this memory was only a brief flash.

An inn, burning in the middle of a frozen thicket. And a figure clad all in black walking away from it, tossing the torch aside. My blood ran cold when I saw his face. And his eyes. They were cold and dark, and a shape in them. An upside down triangle.

A/N: None can be more excited for next chapter as I am! See you soon!