There was no denying that He was following her, no denying it at all. She glanced around the deserted street, looking up and down the misty road as her chest heaved up and down rhythmically. The air was charged, and she could feel every ounce of her body straining to be somewhere safe, the survivor's enclave, bastion's keep, anywhere but here. But she knew that he'd follow her, that he'd tear his way through whatever barriers she placed between them, and he would kill her, or at least try to. That is what scared her most, the fact that he was the only being able to make her feel fear. Not even Diablo had evoked such fear in her; even Malthael had been nothing but a momentary distraction.
She'd slain the butcher, the skeleton king, avenged Cain and Leah; slew the last two lords of hell, Belial and Azmodan. And now this thing was chasing her, from the high heavens to the burning hells. And it wouldn't stop until her blood soaked its talons. Her breathing was short and shallow, and her armour was heavy and weighed her down, she should have brought someone with her but she didn't want to endanger anyone else. Even Tyrael had no idea what stalked her in the dark. This demon had slain her friends, and now it was coming for her.
The air started to heat up, the wind started to pick up speed, debris was torn from houses and flung around the narrow street, the shapes of the houses seemed to loom over her and cast their long shadows over everything. Then it happened, a great tear in the fabric of the world was opened, darkness poured out, and she could hear the whispers of the dead, see the rivers of blood, and she watched in horror as her fear stepped through, long legs capped by wicked talons, lithe shape of the body, almost feminine, seeming to mock her own shape, outstretched arms, which at the end hung bloody claws, flesh dripping from the tips.
And the head, an exact copy of hers, only twisted and demonic, with burning eyes and an open maw, filed with rows of sharp, jagged teeth, it smiled at her and spoke, its voice oddly smooth and calm, its speech was cultured and refined. It spoke one word, only one word before the end.
"Come"