Assassins Creed | Connor Saga

“Not by my hand,” Connor said. “By theirs.”

He returned to the Homestead. Achilles was dead. Connor buried him next to the apple tree they had planted together. He found a letter in the old man’s desk: “My son, I was wrong to call you a weapon. You are the hand that chooses not to strike. That is harder.” Assassins Creed Connor Saga

The Soil and the Storm

The tea fell into the black water like dying leaves. Ratonhnhaké:ton, now Connor, moved among the Sons of Liberty not as a patriot, but as a predator. His target: William Johnson, a Templar who bought Iroquois land with ink and lies. Connor cornered him in a burning stable. Johnson spoke of order , of saving the natives from the coming American storm. “Not by my hand,” Connor said

They fought, then fought together—a temporary, hateful alliance against a common British officer. For a single, terrible moment, Connor saw what could have been: a father and son, back to back. But Haytham smiled, and the smile was a lie wrapped in silk. Connor buried him next to the apple tree

That day, the forest screamed. Not with wolves, but with men. Charles Lee’s men. They came with torches and the promise of English coin. The village burned like a dry field. Ratonhnhaké:ton held his mother’s hand as the smoke choked the sky. She pushed him toward the river.