AN: Hello readers. If you've read any of my previous works, then you already know not to expect regular updates. If you are one of my previous readers, I would like to apologize for not updating, but my muse is currently off to who knows where.

Disclaimer: I do not own Diablo or any of its subsidiary components. That honor belongs to Blizzard Entertainment. Without further ado, let us begin the story.

Prologue

"Two years. That is how long it has been. How long it has been since we did combat, my dear opponent, my rival, my vessel. I remember it as if it were yesterday, watching you though my hellish means as you fought down through the twisted catacombs and the layers of hell beneath. Tristram was such an unsuspecting village. Hehehe, so much fun it was to instill Terror into their hearts, to deprive them of sleep for the fear that they or their loved ones would be dead upon awakening.

Ah, that's right, I never told you how it came to be. A priest of Zakarum was sent to the town to shepherd them into the light. They never suspected he had stolen my soulstone. Nor that he would spirit away the king's son. Do you know how I was finally released? My soulstone was imbedded into the head of the young prince. That's right, my former vessel was the son of your ruler. I bet you didn't suspect that.

That's just another thing to add to your list of crimes, and your list of sins. Yes, that's right. I know of your murder of the sorcerer. He saved your insignificant life several times, but in the heat of a fierce battle you struck him down. You thrust your blade through the back of his skull while he and the rogue were busy fighting the skeletons and Fallen that surrounded you, ambushed you. It was I who kept them from attacking you while you committed the foul deed. Then you cried out as you killed a nearby fallen, making the rogue think you were avenging the sorcerer's death.

Then there's the rogue. The lies you told her, that you cared for her, loved her. You used her and betrayed her. When you camped that final night in the last level of the catacomb you seduced her for your own pleasure. You used and abused her throughout the night, yet she thought it was naught but the ultimate act of love. Hah!

Then, upon my gate mere hours after you awoke, you killed her. You embraced her lovingly, kissing her. But all the while you drew her hunting knife before stabbing her in the back. Her face was priceless. She realized your betrayal too late. She lived just long enough to hear how you killed the sorcerer, how you made her love you, how you used her, how you abhorred her. All for you own sick, twisted pleasure. Then, just before she died, you used her body again. She couldn't resist for your blow had paralyzed her from the neck down. When you were finished you slit her throat.

Then you gathered the items you needed from her corpse, as you did with the sorcerer. Finally you released the seal to combat me. I gazed upon you, judging you. You would have made a great leader in hell, if your soul would have survived the horror and pain of the Turning. But then I saw something else. The seed of fear in your soul that lead you to kill the sorcerer, and in turn rogue so that you could gain the items necessary to survive your confrontation with me. The seed that had blossomed into a beautiful yet twisted flower under my constant influence. I will admit that I was surprised that you were the one who developed so greatly. I knew then that you would be a much better vessel than the child who cowered before me in the corners of his mind.

And so we fought. I made sure to give you a challenge as I implanted false ideas into your own mind. I made sure you thought your victory was hard won. And when you finally defeated me, you took the soulstone. Because of my manipulation, you thought that the only way to defeat me entirely was to imbed the stone into your own head. I decided then that I would wait for the right moment to wrest control from you. I let you think that you had won.

Over the weeks and months after, I slowly spread my influence over you. Slowly I took control. Slowly I became me again. All the meanwhile, the villagers celebrated my defeat. Then, without warning, I seized control. There was no more need to pretend. I left. Only that old fool, Deckard Cain, was witness to me leaving. As I strode east, I set the groundwork for another gate to hell to open on the outskirts of the village. It would not awaken for a matter of weeks, but it was never suspected.

I eventually let you take control again, but made sure that you always continued east. Then, something I had not dared hope for in my darkest of dreams. You stopped at an inn in the mountain pass. I felt his soul. The one who I needed to release my brother. Marius. Only he held the weakness to be so dominated by myself and my brother. I reclaimed my earlier control. I could not afford to have you fail me. I unleashed evil upon the inn, releasing skeletons and crawlers. I bid them attack all but Marius. He watched with detached horror at the scene before him. And then I left, leaving the urge to follow me in his fragile mind. We kept heading east, down the mountain pass and into the desert. Marius stumbling behind us.

And now, here we are. Sitting in the middle of the desert, so close to finding my brother and releasing him from his bindings. I feel that you are keeping a secret from me, but it is of no consequence. I will find out soon enough. But no matter, soon I will be able to take total control, and you will die, my vessel. Your soul will go to hell. There is no redemption for you. You are mine, and you will lead my armies, in time."

XxXxX

Stryker rose from his sleeping mat swiftly, holding his sword before him. The young paladin looked around with his haunted dark eyes, breathing hard. Sweat formed upon his tanned brow, and soaked through his plain cloth tunic. A simple silver cross on a leather cord hung about his neck, glistening in the dim fire light.

Upon the horizon, or what was visible from the moor the paladin was camped on, the sun's rays brightened the seemingly eternal gray clouds that blanketed the sky. The overcast sky had cast a dreadful pall over the land of Westmarch for the last two years. The only times it changed were when it rained, then the sky would become darker.

The young man sat back upon his bedroll, returning his sword to its sheathe on the ground beside him. He wiped his brow before he rolled up his mat, attaching it to the top of his travel pack. He quickly dug out the provisions for a quick breakfast which he heated above the dwindling fire.

"Blessed be the Light," the paladin begin to pray, "that which guides us in our daily strife. Blessed are the angels and the archangels who serve the light, and protect and guide us in our endeavors. May I be blessed and guided as I strive to rid the world of the blight that has come over us recently. Heavens guide my blade this day, and lift my shield to defend me as I perform my duties. I thank you for watching over me as I slept and I pray that you continue to watch over me. In the name of the Light, amen."

With his prayer finished, he removed his food from the fire and quickly consumed it, thinking upon his nightmare. They had began almost two years ago, the same time that his twin brother, Vallin, had gone to Tristram to fight the demonic scourge that had appeared there. When Stryker left to go join the paladins of Zakarum in the eastern jungles of Kurast, his brother had not agreed. They had not spoken for years. Then one day, two years ago, the paladin received a letter from his brother stating that he was going to Tristram to fight the evil there, and perhaps find untold riches.

A single tear started to form in Stryker's eye, but he quickly wiped it away. Finished with his meal, the young man donned his worn armor. He finished by strapping his sword baldric to his waist. He slid his pack over his shoulders and proceeded to where the rogue band told him the encampment was.

It was mid morning by the time the paladin arrived. As he approached he saw two rogues guarding the entrance. They steadied their bows on him when he was well within range. He held his hands level with his eyes as he walked carefully to the gate.

"Halt," one rogue demanded from the top of the gate. She was dressed differently from the other rogues, but Stryker figured that it was because she was an officer. "Who approaches the encampment of the Sisters of the Sightless Eye?"

The paladin answered as calmly as he could, but he couldn't help the slight nervousness that crept into his voice. "I am Stryker, a paladin of the church of Zakarum. My order has sent me on a mission to quell the blight that has risen all over the lands of Sanctuary."

"Quite odd for a paladin to travel alone, much less so under armored," the rogue captain replied.

"I was forced to sell much of my gear for provisions to last long enough to see me safely here," the young man responded.

"I see that you mean us no threat. Proceed through the gate, I will meet you down there momentarily," the rogue said.

Stryker proceeded forward cautiously, but the rogues guarding the gate had already removed their arrows from their bows. As he strode forward, the gate opened wide enough for him to enter. When he was in, the gates closed soundly. Before him stood the rogue from before. She had long red hair that was topped with a black leather circlet. She wore what looked like a dress of scale armor, black leather boots, a black leather belt, and black leather bracers. She was unarmed save for a dagger tucked into the right side of the belt. She wasn't beautiful, but she wasn't unattractive. Stryker did have to admit, she was more muscular than he thought a woman should be.

"Welcome, outlander, to our glorious hovel," she smirked sarcastically. Stryker could see that hovel was right. Despite the log walls and the large gate, which coincidentally held the only battlement in the entire camp, the camp was really just a mess of tattered tents a few caravan wagons. And some enterprising soul had set up a forge in the back corner. Live stock freely roamed with the walls, and all of the rogues within had grim looks. "I am Kashya. I know you're here to here to fight the evil that has driven us from our ancestral home. But understand this, Akara may be our spiritual leader but I command the rogues in battle. It will take more than killing a few beasts to earn my trust. Now then, Akara wishes to speak with you. She is in the purple tent in the south east corner."

"Thank you, Kashya," Stryker said. "I will endeavor to earn your trust in the time I spend here. Light guide you."

Kashya was silent as the paladin wandered off to find Akara's tent.