A couple of weeks ago, I shared that I was back writing A Warrior’s Heart: The Promise.
It was fun, exhilarating, and scary, all wrapped up in one wild bundle of emotions.
There is something powerful about returning to a story that has been waiting for you. The characters are still there. The world is still there. The unfinished promise is still there.
And so are the doubts.
Can I still do this?
Will the story hold together?
Will the characters speak to me again?
Can I bring this book across the finish line?
Well, I did.
I finished it.
Book four of the Warrior’s Heart series is now complete.
And I will be honest, finishing it was a mixture of joy and sadness, all wrapped up in one package.
Joy, because I did what I set out to do. I returned to the page. I listened. I followed the thread. I kept showing up until the story reached its natural ending.
Sadness, because when you spend that much time with characters, they become more than names on a page. They become companions. Teachers. Reflections. Sometimes even old friends.
To finish a book is to celebrate, but it is also to say goodbye to a certain season of your creative life.
After I typed the final words, I reviewed what I had written a couple of times. I sat with it. I listened for what felt right and what still needed attention.
Then I sent it off to Tina for editing.
That moment felt significant.
Not loud. Not dramatic. Just deeply meaningful.
Another promise kept.
Another mountain climbed.
Another story brought into the world.
Writing is a strange and sacred journey. Some days it feels like magic. Some days it feels like wrestling a bear in a phone booth. And some days, if you are lucky, it feels like both.
But this I know.
The story only gets finished when you keep coming back.
One page at a time.
One sentence at a time.
One breath at a time.
A Warrior’s Heart: The Promise is finished.
And then something unexpected happened.
There was a void in me.
Not because the story was finished. Not because I was lost. Not because I did not know what to do next.
The void was there because I was not writing.
I had crossed the finish line, handed the manuscript off, and for a brief moment, there was silence.
No characters calling.
No scenes unfolding.
No dialogue waking me up.
No battlefield, no temple, no sacred promise waiting on the page.
Just quiet.
And apparently, quiet and I have an interesting relationship.
So, in a matter of hours, I made a bold and highly spiritual decision.
I switched from decaffeinated coffee to caffeinated coffee.
Yes, the muse was summoned with caffeine. Very mystical. Very sacred. Possibly a little reckless.
And then I started writing an entirely new book.
The Last Templar’s Oath.
I think this is going to be a Nathaniel Theos book, but I am not one hundred percent certain at this time. Sometimes a story reveals not only its plot, but also the name under which it wants to be born.
This new story begins in 1307, on the night the Knights Templar are betrayed by the crown and the Church. As Jacques de Molay sees the Order’s destruction approaching, he entrusts Sir Matthieu de Montrose with a sacred burden: the Grail itself. Matthieu is ordered to leave Paris in secret, abandon the visible life of a knight, disguise himself as a merchant, and carry the relic south toward Portugal, where the future of the Grail may still be protected. What begins as a mission of obedience quickly becomes a journey of survival, secrecy, and spiritual testing.
But The Last Templar’s Oath is not only a story about fleeing danger. It is the story of a man forced to become more than he believed himself to be. Matthieu must build a new life in Tomar, hide in plain sight, guard a sacred mystery, and wrestle with grief, loyalty, faith, and the unravelling of his vows. As abandoned land becomes a working estate, and as Lady Isabeau de Molay enters his life carrying the weight of her brother’s final wishes, Matthieu discovers that protecting the Grail may require more than courage. It may require transformation.
A new world.
A new story.
A new promise.
This one is different. It has a different heartbeat, a different landscape, and a different kind of warrior walking through its pages.
But the call is the same.
Write.
Show up.
Listen.
Follow the story.
There is something in me that comes alive when I am writing. Something ancient. Something playful. Something holy. Something stubborn enough to keep going when the sensible thing might be to take a break.
Maybe that is the blessing and the curse of being a writer.
The book ends, but the writing does not.
The story closes, but the creative fire keeps burning.
And so, with A Warrior’s Heart: The Promise now in Tina’s capable editing hands, I have stepped through another doorway.
From one promise to another oath.
From one sacred journey into the next.
And yes, apparently, with a stronger cup of coffee in hand.
