The sun had only moved a small distance in the sky, from barely kissing the tops of the distant mountains to barely peeking above them, but Diarmuid felt that in that time, the entire world had shifted beneath his feet.
Sir Ollie had started simply enough, speaking of the covenās current work, which included clearing fallen trees and marking out paths to build what he called an āEnchanted Grove.ā To Diarmuid, however, it didnāt sound very different from building a Prayer Garden, much like the carefully landscaped gardens that dotted the Holy City, giving people a place to find peace and pray under the light of the sun and stars rather than under the roofs of the temples.
It felt almost mundane, and when the young witch followed it up by talking about searching for the best cookware for the covenās new kitchen, and how excited he was to plant herb gardens near the covenās tower, Diarmuid found himself smiling and nodding.
It felt, for a moment, like he was listening to a newlywed knight who had just begun to build his home, one who had become caught up in the enthusiasm his wife held for all of the domestic details that would turn a country manor into a warm and loving home.
Ollie didnāt stop at the covenās domestic tranquility, however. The young knight clearly felt that he had to correct some of Diarmuidās misconceptions about witchcraft and what it meant for a person to join a coven.
"I would like it if you could keep this to yourself," Ollie said once he felt like Diarmuid had calmed enough to hear something that might disturb him again. "The visions a witch experiences when they undergo their trial are deeply personal. Iām willing to share mine with you because I owe you a debt, and because I think it will help you understand us, but..."
"I understand," Diarmuid said slowly. "But please, you donāt have to tell me any of your secrets if they would expose a weakness of witches," he added. Sir Ollie had only asked him to keep the information to himself, but he hadnāt said anything about promising not to use the information he gained against Lady Ashlynn or her coven.
Whether it was a gesture of trust or naivete on Ollieās part, Diarmuid couldnāt be sure, but he didnāt want to leave any room for a misunderstanding between them when the young knight was clearly working hard to build bridges.
"Itās fine," Ollie reassured him. "There are a few things I wonāt share," he said, more to reassure Diarmuid than anything else.
Though when he thought about it, there really were a few secrets that would only disturb the other man more, like the fact that one of Lady Nyrielleās feathers had been used in the ritual to plant his seed of witchcraft and the effect that had on his powers of wind. The relationship between Vampires and Witches was one that everyone in Ashlynnās coven was slowly exploring, and it was far too soon to reveal what theyād learned to outsiders.
"The first thing you need to know," Ollie said as he began to tell his tale. "Is that each time Lady Ashlynn grows a seed of witchcraft, itās a little like preparing to give birth to a child. Itās about nurturing," he said quickly when he saw a frown forming on Diarmuidās brow. "Thereās a reason that Great Witches are called āMotherā by their covens. She has to nurture a seed beside her own heart before she can bestow her gift on one of us..."
Ollie took his time, refusing to rush the story as he explained how his trial of witchcraft had blended with his vigil of knighthood. When he explained the instruction heād received as a knight from a vampire who was over a hundred years old, Diarmuid began to see the antiquated clothing style the young man wore in a much different light.
It was strange to hear a witch explaining that he had sworn to uphold virtues of Justice, Courage, and Hope alongside his other virtues, but hearing the sincerity in his voice, Diarmuid didnāt doubt that Sir Ollie had meant every word of his oaths. The fact that High Inquisitor Ignatious had prayed with him before his vigil only added weight to Ollieās tale.
In every way that mattered, from the noble lady he served to the oaths heād sworn, the vigil he stood, and the prayers that were said, Sir Ollie was a knight in the purest sense of the word. Heād been trained by a knight, prayed with an Inquisitor, and swore loyalty to the daughter of a count. Heād even built a village from the ground up and cared for its people as his own. Sir Ollie was a knight with a pedigree that anyone in the kingdom of Gaal would respect.
At the same time, there was nothing ordinary about Sir Ollieās knighthood. He was trained by a vampire, prayed with a vampire, swore loyalty to a witch, and became a witch himself. By every order and tradition of the Church, that made him one of the most dangerous heretics that Diarmuid had ever met. And yet... There was nothing about the young manās demeanor that gave the Inquisitor any reason to believe that he was a danger to the common people, either in the Vale or in the Kingdom.
Or, at least that was how Diarmuid felt before Ollie began describing the visions heād experienced during his trial.
"Wait, Sir Ollie, please, wait," Diarmuid said, holding up a hand as Ollie described a group of Inquisitors conjuring a second sun that burned through the night, bringing with it a drought that destroyed crops and heat that induced delirium and sickness in the people who Ollie had labored to defend.
"Who told you about the Hymn of the Eternal Sun?" Diarmuid asked as his mind raced. "Was it Inquisitor Ignatious who explained the ritual to you? Perhaps before your trial began?"
"No one told me about it," Ollie said, frowning at the Inquisitorās sudden interest in this part of the story. "I never heard it called the āHymn of the Eternal Sunā until just now. So itās a real thing?" Ollie asked as he began to realize the implications of what Diarmuid had just said.
"The Church really has the ability to conjure a second sun in the sky in order to destroy the Eldritch people?"