Author Note: Hey guys! ^_^ This is my very first fanfic, and since this is my first fanfic, any constructive criticism is welcome. So please feel free to review, it would help me so much! Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy!
I also finally redone this chapter to fit in a little better with the rest of the story. I'm not sure if I'll redo chapter two yet or not, but I'm looking into it!

Balthier stood on the edge of a raised platform in the Pandemonium Fortress, watching silently as the angel of death fell to his demise. The battle was a long and strenuous one, but he had managed to defeat Malthael once and for all. A gash across his tan face still bled from when he received it at the beginning of the fight, during which Malthael had came close to severing the Demon Hunter's head. If it wasn't for his bola going off when it did, Balthier would had been the one falling in defeat. He stood there, his ice colored eyes fixated on a gaze at the once noble angel, as light footsteps carried throughout the chamber.

"Where is the Black Soulstone," Tyrael asked him with a somber tone.

Balthier sighed in failure. He had failed his mission, failed his people, to obtain the soulstone before Malthael used it. His people was free from Malthael's tyranny, yes, but at what cost? Balthier didn't know if he wanted to cry or to scream. (He actually wanted to do both.) His people had endured so much. So much pain and agony had been caused because of this. All of those who died would never return home to their families ever again, and it pained Balthier that he couldn't had stopped it any sooner. He also knew that his people would never know peace as long as the demon and angels waged war on one another. This madness had to be stop once and for all before any more innocent lives were lost, or even ruined.

"Malthael used it to absorb Diablo's soul - he's free now." The Demon Hunter's voice was a bitter monotone. He turned on his heels to stride pass the angel. His eyes stayed fixated on the ground as he headed to exit the chambers.

"Where are you going?"

Balthier paused in his steps for a brief moment with his weight shifting on one leg. "I'm going to find Diablo and defeat him once and for all."

He did not wait for the angel's reply. Instead, he continued to march out the chamber with his head down. Kormac, Lyndon, and Eirena were all waiting for him outside in the halls of the great fortress. They all congratulated him on the victory, but the Demon Hunter kept walking.

He dared not to show his companions his tears of pure regret and rage.

That was five months ago.

Since then, Balthier had been on a fruitless quest to find any trace of Diablo and any way of stopping him. Every day that went by, he got more furious. He knew Diablo couldn't hide forever, and when he resurfaced, Balthier would be ready for him. The only lead Balthier had to go on was the rumors that the areas around Tristram had been having a higher demon activity than normal. He knew it was no coincidence. This was Diablo's work.

He was a little bit over five miles away south of Tristram now, in the forests. It was after midnight, but Balthier was beyond exhausted. For the past week, he had rested very little - maybe even not a total of eighteen hours. He was worn out from all the killing he had done the past few days. The rumors must have been true, because the moment Balthier entered this area, demons attacked him every fifteen minutes. It wasn't only him being attack either, but villages as well. Since his short time here, he had witness ten villages fall to the demons. He tried to save those he could, but he only saved two.

He propped himself up on a tree with his crossbows nearby in case something tried to ambushed him. He positioned himself on his back with his hands entwine over his stomach and tried to relax. He tried to concentrate on his pulse in order to clear his mind before he closed his eyes. No matter what he tried, Balthier couldn't take his mind off everything he was facing. He felt distraught.

Every time his eyes went to close, he saw little visions of either his father crawling towards him with a severed body, his mother mangled corpse, or his sister drowning. After five minutes of desperate attempts for find his much needed sleep, he gave up by placing his head in his hands. The things he would do just have a normal life once again.

Howls echoed through the forest, alerting Balthier with a shudder. He sprung up with his crossbows at his side and darted up the tree like a squirrel. From the highest branch, he could see smoke clouding the visage of a nearby village. Fires raged high into the clouds, and screams of terror carried with the wind. Demons were attacking!

He leaped from the top of the tree, landed on his feet with expertise, then bolted off towards the town. He couldn't help but to let vulgar curses slip through his lips as he moved through the woodland, dodging branches, logs, burrows, and even small boulders as he went. He was fleet, yes, but woodland environments always seemed to hinder his every movement. At one point, a branch of a birch whipped back at him to leave a small stinging welp on his cheek. He let out a small hiss, but pressed forward on to the town.

Out of the woods, he ran onto the overlook of the smoldering town, stopping briefly to check the pulse of the woman who laid at the edge of the cliff. Like always, he was too late. Too late to do anything. If only I hadn't stop to rest, then maybe I could have intercepted them!

"Damn," he whispered gruffly, his rough voice just as coarse as his parched lips.

Balthier jumped from the overlook, landing on his feet like a feline, and stalked through the ruins with his two handheld crossbows drawn. A strange wind blew against him as he walked causing his navy cloak to snap along with it. The moon shined down on him, only to reflect off of him by his silvery armor he wore over simple leather clothing. He kept his crossbows close to his side just in case he was attacked, and throwing knifes lined his belt, just in case. The breeze rustle with his black hair as he entered the town. The moment he passed through the gates, his hood went up, and he was on full alert

Torn bodies lined the road he walked, shredded in the brutal manner he had found to be common to demons. Ash choked the air while the beams of smoldering houses burned away like incense, slow and delicate. Everything from a broken mirror to a severed hand he took in with emotional attachment, etching a small picture in his mind that would be with him for all eternity. Tears burned his eyes while he scanned over the dead children and their mothers, but he refused to cry. They reminded him of his dead sister, Halissa, and how she died at the hands of demons. He missed her so very much, and he thought he would go insane if he didn't find at least one survivor!

"I'm sorry," he whispered, letting a tear betray him. "I'm so very sorry." If only I had made it in time. . .

He pleaded in silent prayers for just one person to be alive, just one person to save. But he knew hope always betrayed him. Yet, a roaring fire, stilling blazing at full height, attracted him to the finest home in the town like a moth to a candle. Inside the blazing home, he saw faintly three giant, but dead, demons that laid surrounding an unconscious teenage girl. Balthier's heart jumped with excitement; she was breathing! Now all he had to do was save her and get her away from this wretched place.

Without even thinking, he jumped into the very heart of the fire to snatched her from her fiery death. Beams fell around him and flames licked at his face, but he wouldn't back down. He had to save her if he wanted to sleep somewhat peacefully tonight. He raced to her side to gingerly (almost as if she was some porcelain doll) pick the girl up and threw her gently on his back. Before the whole building could collapse, he was already away from the village, running toward the nearest river he knew of.

She needed water, food, and even shelter, and he would provide all of it for her. Then, when the time came, he would take her to westmarch in hopes of finding her a new home away from the demons. He threw her down on the side of the riverbank then proceeded to splash her face with the cold river water to revitalize her. She was choked with smoke. The girl let out a hacking cough followed by a low groan, but she didn't awake. Balthier knew she would probably be unconscious for sometime so he made her as comfortable as he possibly could.

He picked her petite form up from the riverside and brought her onto the grass. He laid her down, noting that the only thing she wore was a black sleeveless midriff shirt and thigh length shorts, and took off the navy cloak he wore to use as a blanket for her. She was a very pretty soul, even to someone like him who didn't care about such things. She had short black hair that bobbed around her round doll like face. Her eyes were large while her nose was slim and humble, and her skin was delicately suntanned. A grim line quirked through her thin pink lips as she slept. I never seen anyone quite like her, he thought, and he began to wonder excessively what kind of person she was.

Later on, he prepared a meal of dry meat, some berries he found, and some edible leaves for the both of them. After he ate and when she did not stir, he covered her meal up with his mask then took off all his armor. He prop himself against the nearest tree, adjusting himself to a comfortable position on his back, then closed his eyes to get some very needed sleep. However, flashes of people being slaughtered came and went through his scarred mind. He jolted up from his spot with chilled breath. It was just a nightmare - at least, that's what he told himself. Deep down, he knew it was more of a memory than a dream. Balthier took a deep breath to calm his racing heart before sluggishly walking to the river to splash his face with the refreshing water.

Behind him, he heard the girl starting to stir. She let out another hacking cough, this time seemingly coming to. Reluctantly, he got up to check on her, evening daring to ghost a thumb over her soft cheek.

"Hello," he whispered, hoping not to startle her. "You're safe now."

She blink at him a few times as if she was confused as to whether he was human or not. Then, when she realized he was a Demon Hunter, she sprung up in shock and simply stared at him. Her eyes; they chilled his spin somehow. They were not gray or blue or another other color that was common to humans; instead, they were as red as the blood he tried to salvage. She blinked at him again. Instead of blood red though, her eyes appeared to be a vivid green this time. Was he just imagining it? Perhaps it was just the lack of sleep; after all, he had been up for thirty-two hours.

"Who are you?" Her voice was low and boyish, yet cheerful.

"I'm Balthier, a Demon Hunter from the Dreadlands. And you are?"

"I'm Storm, Storm Yukki, from Dalesgrove." Then she added, very confused, "Where are we?"

Balthier swallowed the lump in his throat. He could lie and spare her from the truth, but then she would have hopes of going back to a town that lied in ruins. He had to tell her, even if it crushed that cheerful tone she had. He sat beside her with his legs sprawled out.

"Well, Storm," He began rather somber, "I'm sorry to say, but you're the only survivor. I'm afraid the rest of the village is in ruins- thanks to the demons. I was too late to save anyone else."

The whole time he spoke he looked down so he didn't have to make eye contact with her. He glanced at her out of curiosity only to see her staring at him like she wasn't comprehending. Natural shock, he thought. But as soon as that thought crossed his mind, she started to feel across her body almost as she was looking for something.

Balthier raised a brow. "What's wrong?"

She bolted up faster than he could ever thought possible and blurted out, "I have to go back! Now!"

He stood to protest, wanting to spare her mind from the horrific sight, but before words could leave his throat she was already leaping through the woods. He rushed to place his armor back on before he, too, leaped through the the woods after her.

"Did you know her," Balthier asked his new companion as they stood at the edge of the overlook, staring at the woman.

"Yes," Stormly calmly answered him. "Everybody thought she was a witch, but she was just misunderstood, like me. We were best friends. When the demons attack, I saw her be attacked by one before they dragged her here. I felt so lost when I realized what happened. She was a sister to me."

She gulped and took a long pause. It's only natural, he thought. It must be so hard for her to tell how her best friend died so calmly. She's a strong one, like Leah was.

He felt his heart tug at the thought of the stout hearted woman. Even after he had gotten his revenge by slaughtering her mother who lied to them, he still couldn't help but to blame himself partly for her death. If only he had found out sooner, then maybe he could had saved her.

"The villager tried to fight," the girl continued, "but it was a useless struggle. The demons slaughtered everyone. Even my father couldn't hold them off."

"This has to be the work of Diablo." Balthier was vexed by such bloodshed. He had let all of these poor children he found die because he wanted to sleep! He would had let out a curse if it wasn't for the girl standing beside him, which begged the question: How old exactly was this kid? Thirteen? Fourteen, maybe? She barely stood at five feet three!

"How old are you?"

"I'm nineteen," she happily exclaimed.

"You're nineteen? You do not look it." He stood with his arms folded and an expression that looked as if she had told him the moon was polkadotted.

"I know I'm small for my age," she whimpered with her head down, seemingly self conscious about her small size. "I'm a petite. But I swear I'm nineteen, why would I lie?" She looked at him with those big green eyes of hers as if she was hurt by the implement and would begin to cry at any moment.

He stared at her with his gray eyes almost as big as hers before gesturing his hands in an up and down motion in front of him. "Now, now wait. I didn't, don't. . . I didn't say you were," he exclaimed. "Don't be putting words into my mouth!"

"It sounded like you were!" Now, she sounded angry with him which annoyed him.

"Watch your tone with me, girl!"

"I'm not a girl," she dryly interrupted, "I am Storm."

He batted his eyes at her before folding his arms. "Well, Storm," he said calmly, "if it wasn't for me, you could have died back there. A little appreciation could go a long way, especially now that I'm the only person to help you."

She said nothing else in return. Instead, she turned on her heels, and in one great jump, leaped off the cliff. Balthier, afraid that she might had hurt herself, raced to the edge of the cliff, only to see the very lively woman rushing off into the ruins at an astonishing speed, He chuckled to himself before diving off the cliff and steadily paced his way into the ruins. She was interesting to him, and would make someone a fun wife one day.

He didn't have to stride far to find his new bright eyed companion, because just up a path to the left of the main gate she stood, rummaging in what was left of her home. The flames had died out since he came here, and now all that was left was smoldering debris and ash. He took so much pity on her young soul, but there wasn't anything he could do to help quell the sorrow that was surely in her heart. He knew that from personal experience.

From the debris, he saw her pull out something that looked like a curved knife that was sheathed in a silver adorned sleeve with two aqua blue stones bedazzling the front of it. It look as though the fire never touched it.

"That's an ceremonial dagger, is it not," he asked her rather curiously.

She held it against her heart and he saw little tears glistening in her eyes. Tentatively, he walked up to her to wipe those beads of mourning from those bright green eyes he admittedly liked.

"It was a gift from my father," she wept. "I- he told me to keep it with me at all times and it would protect me. I guess it must have protected me from the demons."

Balthier looked at her in sympathy with his hand wrapped around her head. He didn't even move when she flung herself into his chest to unleash a tidal wave of tears; he just closed his arms around her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to her. "He must had been engulfed in the flames. I'm so sorry; truly I am." He tried to sooth her, but he knew this type of pain never healed. At least, not with him.

Her sobs died down to sniffles before she broke away from his. "It-its okay. I just wish he was still here- it would have made things a lot easier."

He pressed his forehead against hers, even though he was almost a foot taller than her, and looked into her eyes. He held her arms as if they were made of thin ice.

"Let's go," he softly suggested. "We can bury the dead tomorrow, when we're well rested. Then, you can come with me; I'll be heading to Westmarch after I visit Tristram. There are good people there and I'm sure you could find a home there; I know you could."

He knew that she would never get over this tragic event, but he wanted to see her flourish into the bright girl she probably once was. He was tired of seeing these cheerful, happy-go-lucky ladies fall into dark pits of despair like Leah and Halissa. No, he wanted to see this one prosper away from a life filled with horrors and bloodshed. He would make sure what happened to Leah wouldn't happen to Storm.

"I'd love to come with you," she gratefully said. "Thank you."

She saw him flash her a small smile and naturally gave one back to him. He held a hand up to her eye one last time to wipe away the last remaining tears. Then, loudly like some savage beast, her stomach growled. They both let out a half-hearted chuckle. "I hope you have some food," She giggled. "I'm starving!"

Balthier shook his head but he couldn't erase the smile from his lips. "I did leave you some food back at camp - if the wildlife hasn't already eaten it." She gave him a light shove for his teasing and another burst of giggles erupted over them. He clapped a hand around her back, and together they made their way back to camp.

Back at the camp, Balthier watched Storm as she slept peacefully on the grass beside him. She took the tragedy better than most, but he knew, deep down, she felt like a broken husk. He notice that in the short time he had interacted with her that he felt. . . happy, happy for the first time in a decade and a half. She reminded him so much of Halissa, so much that he started to believe that she was Halissa reincarnated. But his logical side knew that couldn't be. She was much too old, and besides, he saw his sister's spirit in Pandemonium not too long ago.

Maybe life just wanted to throw him people he could love just so he could watch them fall before his very eyes. It seemed like that's how thing worked around him. Yet, as he laid back on the tree, he notice that his heart raced and his mind stayed on the girl. There was something about her that was different from all the others. And that something made him uncomfortable.

Author's Note: And that conclude's Chapter One! Remember to review and help me correct any typos I may have made!