CHAPTER 1063: A HOLLOW TEMPLAR

In the soft, golden light of the carriage’s interior, Sir Tommin lifted his head for what felt like the first time in days. He had no idea how much time had passed since his duel with the Crimson Knight; it could have been two days or ten, and he had no way to be sure. Ever since the light of his own sword blinded him, he’d lived in a world of perpetual darkness and despair where he drifted between awake and asleep without regard to day or night.

Of course, neither the blindness nor his sleep brought him any peace from the horror of the Crimson Knight’s strange, dark magic. ’Kiss of the Void: Hollow Faith.’ If Tommin had to call it anything, he would call it a curse, and a far crueler one than any he’d ever heard described, even in the archives of the Temple in Lothian City that the High Priest had opened for him once he proved himself worthy of a Holy Light Blade.

Unlike a curse that wracked his body with pain or weakness, the Crimson Knight’s curse had attacked the very core of his faith, and with it, his ability to wield the only weapon capable of harming her. But it hadn’t attacked his faith with lies and deceit... it had shown him the truths he’d always been aware of, but chose to ignore, forcing him to confront the reality of the Church he’d given his life to.

It was the Church that sheltered him when he no longer felt safe at Owain Lothian’s side, but that very same church had done nothing to protect the very same family that he’d hoped to protect by becoming a Templar in the first place.

The Church valued Tommin because he’d given up everything in his life to serve the Church, turning away from his wife and child, the village that the Marquis had entrusted to him to govern, and even the liege lord he’d sworn to defend with his life. He had nothing left but his faith, and that purity of purpose turned Tommin into one of the most powerful weapons the Church possessed in its centuries-long war against the demons.

But the Church’s support ended at protecting their weapon. They didn’t care about Tommin; they only cared about his ability to kill demons. Just like they only cared about Owain’s ability to kill demons.

Owain Lothian was one of the most flawed men that Tommin knew, and the Curse forced him to confront his former lord’s many flaws directly. Tommin knew that Owain was a womanizer who frequented brothels in the company of Sir Kaefin whenever the opportunity presented itself. He knew that Owain had a cruel, vindictive personality and that he lashed out at his own men whenever they failed to live up to his unrealistic expectations.

And he knew that Owain was capable of not only murdering his own wife, but sending his men to hide the evidence of his crime, and then resorting to grand conspiracies in order to keep his misdeeds concealed. And the Church that Tommin served was willing to play along with Owain’s conspiracy for the same reason that it was willing to protect Tommin from Owain’s retribution. Because Owain was very, very skilled at killing demons, and they wanted to use the Lothian Lord as one of their weapons in the upcoming Holy War.

There was nothing holy or righteous in the way the Church had treated Sir Tommin or Lord Owain, but the curse of Hollow Faith didn’t stop at forcing him to look at the hypocrisy of his own situation. There had been rumors for years that powerful barons in Lothian March had engaged in unspeakable abuses of power. Ian Hanrahan wasn’t alone in the number of women he’d defiled, or the number of his own people that he’d cheated out of their land or their lives.

Yet the Inquisition never moved against any of these mighty lords. So long as the Marquis was willing to overlook their indiscretions, the Church was happy to play along. Moreover, when the demons grew restless and desperate in the depths of winter, emerging from the depths of hidden caves, dark forests, or remote corners of the march, the Templars were never sent to the poorest of the villages who were in the greatest need of defenders.

Instead, people like Sir Tommin were sent to stand in ceremonial vigils, closest to the barons who were safest behind their town and castle walls, hidden in their mighty fortresses. Meanwhile, farmers with barely a gold sovereign to their name had to stand out in the dark and the cold to guard their herds and flocks from demons who prowled in the night.

The Church did a great deal of good in the world. Men like Loman had used the wealth of the Church to feed the hungry, and they used the power of their faith to heal the sick... But they did it in exchange for the worship and devotion of the people.

Only the rarest of people in the Church, compassionate, selfless people of pure faith like Confessor Eleanor, would walk out into the masses of humanity in search of those who needed help, and even she brought them back to the Church to receive aid. Everyone who needed help had to come to the Church, to worship at the altar of the Holy Lord of Light if they wished to receive the aid they so desperately needed.

So how then was the Church any different from a vampire? It fed off the worship of the people like a bloodthirsty fiend, draining the pockets of those who could fill their coffers and giving back only a fraction of what they received. And if all of that was true, and Sir Tommin had seen these things with his own eyes to know that they were, then what did that say about the righteousness of their mission?

Sybyll’s curse had forced him to confront how empty his own faith truly was, or rather, how hollow the institution he prayed to had become. And when he did, it also forced him to confront the wickedness he’d enabled by failing to restrain Owain and refusing to bring the young lord’s most problematic behavior to Lord Bors’ attention.

If Tommin had spoken up, his family might never have been in danger. He might never have needed to forsake his oaths. He might never have needed to abandon his home. And above all else, the thing that had started his downward spiral might never have happened... Lord Owain might never have murdered Lady Ashlynn.

The thought had haunted him ever since his faith crumbled and his sword blinded him. How much tragedy could have been avoided if Lady Ashlynn hadn’t died at Lord Owain’s hands. If she’d really been a witch, then the Church should have been the ones to handle her, and if she was innocent...

If it really was just a simple birthmark, the way Inquisitor Diarmuid said it was, then she wouldn’t have needed to die at all, and Tommin would still be enjoying the life of a respected knight, guarding his lord’s family while raising his own.

So when he heard Lady Ashlynn’s voice, clear and unmistakable even after all these months, it pierced through the malaise he’d sunken into like a ray of light peeking through the clouds. Even though he couldn’t see her, he still raised his head for the first time in days, turning his head to face the direction her voice had come from.

He knew that voice well. He’d been at Lord Owain’s side the entire time the presumptive Lothian heir had been courting her. He’d heard that voice when it was full of praise for Owain as he demonstrated his skill at the festival games in Blackwell Harbor, and he’d heard exuberant excitement in her voice when Owain presented her with the string of shells he’d won for his efforts.

He’d heard fear and uncertainty in her voice the first time she visited Lothian March, when she asked if they had enough guards to keep them safe on the long journey to the frontier and the seat of Lothian power. And he’d heard deep love and affection in her voice on the last night he’d seen her alive, when she spoke her vows to bind her life to Owain Lothian’s, joining in his struggle as they strove to live a life worthy of reaching the heavenly shores.

But he’d never heard the cold, unforgiving tone she spoke with now, and her words landed on his heart like a blow from the Crimson Knight’s axe...

"We have unfinished business, you and I..."