The rain lashed against the cobblestone streets of London, a city both strangely familiar and utterly foreign to Hasel and Hermione. The gaslights cast an eerie glow upon the damp buildings, the only sound their own uneven breathing and the whispering murmurs of the Rooks around them.
Clara Thorne, the leader of the Rooks, kept her distance, her emerald eyes assessing the two women. "Witches," she muttered, her tone a mix of disbelief and intrigue. "I've heard stories, but never..."
"They're real," affirmed a wiry, bespectacled young man who'd broken from the group, his eyes wide with fascination. "Henry, me name is. Never seen the likes of...well, anything like it."
Others gathered closer, their curiosity overriding their initial caution. The Rooks were a motley crew - men and women, young and old, with accents ranging from the clipped tones of the upper-class to the rough rhythms of the East End. Yet, they shared a hardened resolve in their eyes, a determination Hasel sensed was a necessity in this world.
Hermione, ever the analytical one, began peppering them with questions. "Templars, Pieces of Eden... can you explain?"
Clara, though clearly in charge, deferred to Henry, a hint of fondness softening her otherwise stern features. He seemed an encyclopedia of the Assassin's cause. The Rooks, he explained, were members of a brotherhood called the Assassins, locked in a centuries-long struggle against the Templars, both seeking control through powerful artifacts called the Pieces of Eden.
This secret war unfolded layer by layer. Templars, Hasel learned, were a powerful, shadowy order, their influence reaching into every corner of London – its politicians, its businesses, its gangs. Assassins, conversely, represented the creed of freedom, working in the margins of society to protect the people from unseen threats.
"Tonight," Clara explained, her voice low and urgent, "we're hitting a Templar-controlled warehouse. Rumor is, they've got their hands on something big, a Piece of Eden or some other artifact. Can't let that fall into the wrong hands."
The prospect of battle, even with magic at their disposal, was daunting. Yet, Hasel felt a familiar fire ignite within her – the same spark that had fueled her countless battles against dark forces. The Rooks needed their help, and after the tumultuous events that had hurled them here… well, saving the world was beginning to feel like their specialty.