THREE MINUTES

"Master Lee, you need to leave now!"

A Templar in a tricorne practically leans on his musket, exhausted from running with such panic. Charles asks no questions; he only commands the man: "Take the artefacts. Now!"

But the Templar does not move. His body stiffens with an unexplainable terror. The light begins to leave his eyes; blood froths from his throat. When his jaw and neck are no longer distinguishable — through gargling and a glaze of thick red — the musket slides along the floor, and he falls to his feet.

So too, almost, does his killer. Kaniehtí:io stands on one foot, leaning against the wall. Blood drips from her knife; taps out the same inaudible rhythm as the roaring bells. Both living men turn...and their reactions are of respective relief and horror.

Haytham wonders how on Earth she managed to kill with a limp. He knows that Ziio is in no condition to fight; the hairs on his neck are like stalks as Charles approaches her with a sword.

"Ziio!"

"You..." Lee is aghast.

Ziio's eyes meet his from under her hood. They are the only flame left in her body. Everything else speaks for the weak, battered lamb for the slaughter. Her arm moves through water, not air, as she blocks a strike from the Templar. As he leaps to defend Ziio, Haytham can see the agony concealed so skilfully in her face. Her skin is pale; the tears threaten to water out the fire in her eyes. Just as Haytham whirls on Charles with a newfound anger, he is blocked again.

"Haytham, the artefacts!" Ziio yells.

He cannot abandon her. He knows she could never take Lee down with a crippled foot. Reluctantly Kenway breaks away from the fight, bounding for the desk. Just as his hand reaches for the wooden box, he is forced to dodge. Haytham rolls down onto the floor; Lee's sword stabs straight through the desk. Splinters spew across the room like debris. One flint lands in the flame torch on the wall; the images flare like Lee's fury.

"Why can't you both die!" he screeches."What does it take to put...you...down?"

Haytham is on his feet once again, but before he can make another grab for the box, Charles is upon him. He kicks — and Lee spins mid-stumble to block Ziio's knife. The force of the collision almost knocks her over, yet she pushes her enemy towards the corner.

Haytham catches her eye and understands. He gives a smile; it is almost undetectable, but Ziio returns it with her eyes.

The two lash at Lee in unison. The cry of the alarm bell is frantic — calling to its master — as he struggles against two Assassins. His head narrowly misses the wooden beam as he scratches his way back into the weapons store.

Sweat drips from Haytham's shining forehead: the only light in this dark beacon. Charles is still as apt blocking their blows, but this will get them nowhere. Ziio's strikes are beginning to lose balance and accuracy. Any more time in this room, she'll pass out.

In her daze, she spies the two flame torches by the window...and has an idea. Limping form the fight, she snatches one from its metal bracket and swipes it at the beams. The men's wrathful faces glow for a flash, then the fire weaves around the wood like red-hot ribbons. They should last a minute or so, she reckons.

Blowing out the torch and casting it aside, Ziio tries to rejoin the fight. Her knife is raised; she prepares to plunge...but an imaginary wave crashes her balance sideways. Her arm flails loosely towards Charles' arm, not his chest.

Seizing his chance, the Templar Grandmaster tears away from Haytham. His heavy boot swings and — with little effort — slams into Ziio's back. A weak groan gushes from her lungs; the great Assassin topples like a marionette. Her flickering eyes see a blade raised towards her; she closes them and braces herself...

"No!"

Clash. Clash.

Blocked, of course; by Haytham, of course. Her head still throbs from hitting the hard floor, but she attempts to rise again. Haytham's cloak whirls dangerously close to the crackling fiery pillars; Ziio sees why he has turned. He is making a grab for the artefacts while he still can.

Suddenly, Lee loses interest in trying to kill the woman. He gasps when Haytham is on the other side of the room, his hand swiping at what is rightfully Templar property...

The next few moves are quick as streaks of lightning. As Ziio tries to drag herself to her feet, Charles Lee charges at Haytham, jumps, and swings his sword. A lucky dodge, which makes Ziio wince. Not before — with a roar erupting from his chest — the Templar hurls Haytham back into the wall. Winded, he almost collides with Ziio in the glowing corner. His sword clutters to the floor, but he recovers his balance.

Ziio reaches for his sword, that she can pass it up to him...

Crack. Artefacts bundled in his arms, Lee is already waiting by the door.

Alarm bells screech in Haytham's head, louder than the ones all around him.

He cannot escape. He cannot.

The pillars are barely twigs as Kenway recovers his sword, chest heaving. This is his last chance. Lee is facing the door, and the Precursor box and amulet are with him...

Haytham begins to charge...but he only manages two steps.

Because in one manoeuvre, Charles bends to the dead guard, snatches the musket...

Ziio spots this all too late. She tries to move; to scream...

Crash.

The sickening sights and sounds are countless. In that moment, smoke spews from the gun; an eruption of blood spurts from a spleen. The bell seems to slow down, like the beat of a heart. The hiss of the fire tries to catch a falling body in its arms, but misses. The jarring of the blast is soaked into the walls; sealed in the icy eyes of a murderer.

But worst of all, the bleat of a lion— in all his glory — reduced to nothing. But even this yelp is veiled by something worse. Something darker. Something intrinsically tragic; utterly heartbreaking. All the demons in hell could not shriek to re-create this sound; no chamber of the most diabolical torture could match this explosive anguish.

It is the raw scream of Ziio's soul as it is ripped apart.

"Haytham!"

*Cowers in the corner* *Waits for hate mail*

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S-sorry...psst, if you aren't already following my tumblr, you totally should ;)

nothing-lesss (three 's'es)

When I get a few more followers, I'll start posting fun little Everbound facts which I could never publish in the story and stuff. Sooo um yeah.

I know this isn't a happy note to update on, but...Happy Christmas guys! Wishing you all a healthy holiday, and if you're sad for any reason this holiday...please try to look after yourself and take it easy. That's Frankie's orders ;)

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