"So, what Lady Ashlynn did in the courtyard when we arrived, when she healed Sir Tommin's wounds," Diarmuid said as he tugged on his neatly trimmed beard in thought. "It felt like a miracle, and that's the right way to think of it," he concluded, looking to Ashlynn for confirmation.
The intention of her ritual had been pure, bestowing mercy on a man who had wronged her deeply. She'd done something wondrous, and the power that flowed from her had been so great that she hadn't just healed the broken Templar kneeling before her; her power had encompassed the entire courtyard, easing pains, mending wounds, and soothing wounded spirits.
If that wasn't a miracle, then Diarmuid didn't know what was, and the framework that Ignatious introduced seemed to support that kind of interpretation. The Church would call it heresy, but in Diarmuid's opinion, such great acts of kindness and compassion were worthy of reverence, wherever they came from.
