A Matter of Fate
Heaven was falling. And in the Library of Fate, Itherael waited.
He knew it was decreed it as such. Heaven would fall, when Diablo walked the streets of the Silver City. When angels fell, and demons flew in their place. When Darkness swallowed Light. When the End of All Things came to Creation.
And it had come. Only it was the armies of Man that surged forward. Long after the Lord of Terror had walked the domain of angels, and when the seraphim had dared to hope that Light would shine eternal.
And, at the End of Days, Wisdom shall be lost.
Malthael. Gone forever. No replacement had been born from the Silver Arch. Oh, Malthael, how he mourned his brother. Malthael, in his wisdom, had seen what would happen. Malthael had tried to stop this. Malthael had been murdered. And his brothers and sisters had let it happen. At let the fires of Man, and their nephalem masters, come to this place.
Wisdom had indeed been lost. And the angels had let it slip from their fingers.
As Justice falls upon the world of Men.
Tyrael. The traitor Tyrael. The…no. Sitting in place, Itherael could not bring himself to hate his lost brother. Tyrael had fallen in so many ways. Fallen from Heaven. Fallen to the mortal world. Had fallen for the delusion that they had all brought into all those years ago, that the mortal world was something to be spared. Tyrael had fallen. Killed by those he had once aided. Tyrael, appointed as the Aspect of Wisdom by the Crystal Arch. And had fallen so, so far. So that all of Heaven would fall with him.
Tyrael was gone. And there was no justice in that.
Valour shall turn to Wrath.
Imperius. Imperius too, he mourned. Imperius had directed the Heavenly Host against the mortals who would seek their downfall. Imperius had turned to wrath, and even that was not enough. Imperius…Imperius had been wise, Itherael reflected. Imperius could have saved them. To the end, he had fought to save them. Imperius had fought until the last, showing that even in wrath, valour could be found.
It had not been enough.
And all Hope will be swallowed by Despair.
Auriel. Dear, beloved Auriel. He did not know where she resided. But all hope had left him, and perhaps she too, had left this place. To the end, Auriel had hoped. Auriel had hoped that Man would not fall to darkness. Auriel had hoped that Diablo's defeat would be the end of strife. Auriel had hoped that, even as the nephalem led their armies against Heaven, that they could be reasoned with. Auriel had hoped right up to the last. When no hope could be given.
He heard a banging on the entrance to the library. And knew there was no hope left.
Death, at last, shall spread its wings over all.
The door came down. And Itherael saw his foe. The Fateless One. The one who was anathema. The one who was not human, or nephalem, but something more. And less. For there was no humanity in his eyes. No malice. No love. There was nothing. But he was Death, all the same. The one who had shattered the fate of an entire world. And had come to lay fate low here as well.
"I have waited for you," said Itherael, his voice lost to the wind. His voice neither male nor female. "I have known you would come."
"Was it fated?" asked his foe.
"Perhaps. Perhaps not." He cradled a scroll in his hands. Talus'ar. Useless now. But still dear to him. "Fate was shattered long ago."
"And yet, you know how this will end."
"I do," said the angel. He stood still, unmoving. Unresisting. But not unmourning. "I know how this ends.
As Fate lies shattered forever.
With his sword, the Fateless One swung. With a single stroke, Talus'ar was cloven in two, its pages falling into numerous pieces. Shattered forever.
And so comes the End of All Things.
And Itherael fell as well as the sword breached his armour. The last of the Angiris Council. Perhaps the last son of Anu. But it did not matter.
For fate had been fulfilled.
And its bearer, shattered.