A Single Chance
They were all going to die.
Malthael with his infinite wisdom, Imperius with his unwavering bravery, Tyrael with his determined sense of duty and loyalty, Auriel with her beautiful smile and never-ending aura of happiness…
Itherael saw every single last one of them die a horrible death. No matter what the five of them shall achieve in the future, no matter how proud and glorious the Angelic Host will become one day.
None of that mattered. They were all going to die in the end.
The day Talus'ar showed this to him first, he flung the scroll across his room in terror, his body shaking madly. The pictures danced before his hidden eyes long after that: the Silver City getting swallowed up by an army of demons; angels fall to corruption against their will, struggling to remain pure; seven large figures attacking the Crystal Arch that would shake, turn black and turn to ashes, leaving every angel weak and powerless to defend themselves. Imperius would be the first to die from the Council, stubbornly throwing himself at the enemy despite his condition. Tyrael would follow soon, trying to drag Imperius out of the fray. Malthael would realize their inevitable fate, and he would go down with a fight, taking as many as he can with himself. Itherael would lunge forward and try to shield Auriel from a dagger to the neck, and she would die soon after him, as the last angel in Creation.
It was only a possibility. Not certainty. Itherael did not see certainties. He held onto this knowledge, trying to keep his sanity together. It wasn't certain. They could survive, they could win. Right?!
Talus'ar did not give him this ray of hope.
Itherael hasn't touched the Scroll in days, but it kept bombarding him with the vision. The Archangel, trapped inside his own office, whimpered in horror as he curled up in a shaking ball, his wings curling around his body. He pleaded with the Scroll to just stop, he screamed curses at it, but the images kept on coming, threatening to erode his sanity.
Every time the vision started over again, more and more details would show up. The seven figures were the Seven Evils. Instead of flashes, Itherael began to see with great detail just how his comrades and people will be slaughtered. The Crystal Arch turned orange, then red, then yellow cracks ran across its entire shape, then it blew into a million pieces, its worthless shards wrecking the Silver City around it.
Eventually, this vision was all Itherael could see. It felt like it went on forever, but one day, finally, finally his mind gave up the fight, snapped, and Itherael blacked out from the terror.
oooOOOooo
Imperius was at it again, boasting how they will definitely crush the Legion of the Burning Hells this time. This big victory was a sure sign of that!
If only he knew.
Itherael remained silent. He spoke few words since Talus'ar terrorized him with the vision, and he told no one about it. They couldn't obtain this knowledge. They deserved happiness, even if Fate did not. He found himself glancing at Auriel who beamed with pride and hope, getting swept away in Imperius' ardor. Even Malthael was chattier than usual, and Tyrael actually was not locked in an argument with Valor for once.
They were all so happy.
Itherael hid his shaking hands in his robes. He knew this victory did not matter. He knew the vision was a certainty, Talus'ar has hammered it into his skull with ruthless efficiency. He knew nothing they did matter. They might as well lie down on the ground and let the demons trample them. There was no difference.
Of course Auriel had noticed his sudden silence and nervous aura. She tried to help him, gently goad him into telling his problem, but this one time, Itherael had held firmly. He even did what he previously believed unimaginable: he had been rude to her and kicked her out of his office. He did everything in his power to distance himself from Hope, lest he might taint her beautiful light with despair and sadness.
He couldn't allow that to happen. For Auriel's sake, Itherael had to keep himself away from her.
He thought about fleeing from the High Heavens. That would eliminate any chance of him accidentally breaking and telling everything to the others.
… Should he tell the others? Was he lying to them, giving them false hope for the future with his silence? Was he betraying them, or protecting them this way?
Itherael wanted to claw his eyes out in his inner conflict, he wished Baal would just get him and crush him so hard he could never return from death.
oooOOOooo
An angel having a sibling was a rare sight, even after all these eons.
An archangel having an angel sibling was a first, actually.
His feet had barely touched the ground, and Inarius had immediately rushed to Tyrael, snuggling up to the stunned archangel with the outmost trust and happiness. It was a sight so sudden and weird that it even shook Itherael out of his desperate stupor for a short time. So much so, in fact, that the Archangel of Fate completely forgot about the established tradition of seeing into the future of the newborn angel and give them some insight on what to expect.
In other words, give them false hope.
Itherael absolutely hated himself. He was surprised how Mephisto hadn't picked up on this so far. Or maybe he did and was having a blast at watching Fate struggle. Honestly, it would have fitted the demon well.
Years later, and Inarius and Tyrael were true siblings, spending most of their times bickering over pretty much everything, yet proving to be an indomitable pair in the war. They fought their way out of everything the demons threw at them, which was an impressive sight, considering how they kept arguing even while doing that. It was also a great mystery where they got the energy to keep this up. Malthael mumbled angrily to himself, trying to figure it out only to come up with nothing.
One day, Inarius stepped inside Itherael's office. Fate looked up from the scrolls his scribes wrote about their visions.
- Hey, Ithy, do you mind if I ask something? – Inarius had the strange habit of giving others nicknames. It took the rest of the Council quite some time to get used to this habit, and learn to respond to their strange names.
- Go ahead – Itherael said simply, turning back to his scroll, waving at a chair.
- So, uhm… is it true that you read the future for every newborn angel? – Inarius asked, sitting down.
Itherael paused.
Damnit, he had forgotten about that!
- Yes, I do – he admitted slowly.
- Can you… do that for me? – Inarius cocked his head to one side. – I mean, if it's not a bother for you. I'm just curious about what to expect.
You mean before our inevitable doom? Itherael wanted to laugh bitterly.
- Of course – he pushed the report aside instead, and summoned Talus'ar. – I apologize for not doing it earlier.
- I'm sure you had better things to do – Inarius waved the apology away.
On the outside, Talus'ar was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. At first glance, it looked like a tube of pure light, sealed off by emerald green ornaments on both ends. Its light shimmered, twisted and shown patterns as if trying to mesmerize the audience. It looked as if it held the promise of a great and glorious future in its depths.
Itherael hated it, he saw nothing but a cruel object of doom that had tortured him into submission, infected him with neverending despair and cut him off from his brethren, even from Auriel who had always been dear to his heart. Talus'ar had abused him into the broken heap he was now, there was no two ways to go about it.
With a deep breath, he unrolled the accursed scroll and stared into its depths.
Show your lies, he hissed at the scroll. Go on. Fill this poor soul with false promises. You are excellent at that.
Once again, Talus'ar denied him.
Itherael reeled back from the absolute flood of images, bombarding him like hail. A small part of him heard Inarius' alarmed shout in the distance and he thought he felt the young angel grab him and steady him from falling over from his chair. None of that really mattered, though, as Fate struggled to make sense of what he saw.
Millions of pictures, too fast to make out, too fast to put in order. They twisted and writhed like a snake trying to escape from a grasp, making it nigh-impossible to keep track of, and even a single image shifted into many different variations. Itherael saw the Worldstone, he saw Inarius standing before it alone, or with a few people, or with an entire crowd that wasn't completely made up from angels, disturbingly. He saw that crowd fight each other, or maybe they act in perfect unison, grabbing the Worldstone and destroying it… or taking it away. Inarius… or they… used it to create a weapon… no, a new world. A world where they would fight each other or… or mix and multiply. New and strange creatures appeared. Creatures never before seen in the tapestry of Creation.
Creatures whose fate Itherael could not decipher.
The accursed vision of their doom exploded into his mind again, but this time… this time, the destruction stopped, and everything froze around Itherael. He took a shaky breath, watching the axe that loomed over Imperius' form, only inches away from cleaving the golden helmet in two and ending Valor's life.
Nothing moved, however.
What are you waiting for?! Itherael screamed into the void. You have showed this a million times already! You cannot make it any worse than it already is!
The vision lurched forward.
The axe missed Imperius by some damned miracle and he managed to grab the demon's head and snap his neck. Behind them, Tyrael, whose form was suddenly flickering and becoming more and more blurry, as if taking on another shape slowly, raised El'druin and cut down another beast that had a clean shot at Valor. In the distance, Malthael slain his attackers then dove from his high ground, strategically retreating and luring the demons into tight corridors where he could gain the upper hand over them. Auriel gracefully danced away from the dagger aimed at her neck, then lashed out with Al'maiesh to vanquish her opponents. All around, weakened but still not defeated angels fought back, bravely standing their ground, winning…
Itherael couldn't believe his eyes.
He saw a being scale the Crystal Arch. Its form flickered, from Inarius, to a thousand of those new creatures he had just seen, back and forth constantly. The Arch trembled, it turned orange, then red, then yellow cracks ran across its surface, then… the trembling stopped, the cracks sealed, and the Seven Evils came tumbling down from the peak, each beaten and defeated.
Itherael fell to his knees as a new dawn broke upon the Silver City and the glorious light began washing away the devastation and bringing new strength to the battered but still alive Angelic Host.
They all survived.
Itherael came out of the vision, crushing down onto his desk, hearing Inarius helplessly cursing himself as the angel tried to keep Fate in his chair. His trembling stopped and he realized he was weeping, face buried in Talus'ar.
- That's it! I'm calling Auriel! – Inarius snapped then ran out of the office.
Itherael remained sprawled across his desk, chest heaving, body exhausted beyond belief, his head feeling like it was about to split open. Tears kept running down on his cheeks, and for a while, he didn't know why that was.
He didn't know anything, actually. His mind shut down and came up absolutely blank on everything in that moment.
A new voice entered his office.
- Itherael! Itherael!
Wait, he knew that voice. It was sweet, beautiful, and filled with happiness and hope.
Auriel. Archangel of Hope.
Hope.
They still had hope!
Itherael felt Al'maiesh bundle his once again trembling body, and two arms encircling his torso and trying to drag him up from Talus'ar. He flung himself up from the desk, scaring Auriel to her core, then he crashed into her, embracing her tightly, face buried in her shoulder.
- Itherael, wha—?
- We have a chance! Auriel, we have a chance to survive! – Itherael wailed, desperately clinging to her. – Praise Anu, we have a chance!
Auriel gently guided them to a bench inside the office, where she could sit down as well and cuddle Itherael better.
- What happened? – she whispered, trying to calm down Fate who had clearly fallen apart.
It took some time for Itherael to gather himself just enough to begin talking, but he did eventually. The words spilled out of him, he told her of his vision of certain doom, how they would all die, no matter what they accomplish. He begged for her forgiveness for distancing himself and for being rude to her, he had just wanted her and the others to be happy while they still could. His mostly illogical blubbering was a complete nightmare to decipher, but Auriel listened to him with endless patience, the big picture slowly becoming clear in her mind as well.
Itherael had seen the certain end of the High Heavens, and he had tried to keep it a secret, to provide some sense of hope for the future for the Angelic Host. But now… now he saw something that told they had a chance to avoid that.
- We cannot let Inarius fall. We have to make sure he survives – Itherael stammered, his body desperately craving some form of rest, but his mind still working overtime. – He—his actions—I don't know, but he can be our salvation! He can stop all of that from happening, Auriel!
The female archangel shushed him, softly rocking him into sleep. She felt immense relief at Itherael finally opening up to her. She had seen his struggle to keep something hidden, and her constant failures to ease his burden ate away at her every day. But now she finally understood everything, and she felt Itherael's consciousness become light once again, bless his ravaged heart.
She cuddled the sleeping archangel close, pondering on his words.
oooOOOooo
It was only a possibility. Not certainty.
But it was a chance.
Itherael vowed to keep this chance alive, whatever it took. He opened up to his brethren once more, but kept the prophecies to himself. He and Auriel proposed that the Council accept Inarius among their ranks as an advisor, with the ulterior motive of keeping him safe, at least until… whatever the heck will happen that might ensure their survival. They acted upon a hunch, a promise that could very easily be broken, they both knew. But they also knew that if they didn't hold onto this chance, their doom was certain.
Fate and Hope irreversibly tangled together in their hidden quest to save everyone. They didn't know what Inarius would do exactly, what consequences his actions might have, nor what would happen if they truly survive the End of Days. They kept wading stubbornly forward in the dark, hoping, believing that there was a light at the end of this mayhem.
Was it wise, placing all their hopes onto a single angel? No. But they didn't have a choice.
Was it certain that their efforts would come to fruition? No. Not at all. This all could be for nothing, for all they knew.
Or… it could be for everything. That alone was a good enough reason to keep going forward.
It always is.
You guys ever get those days when you are just like "HEUREKA, I'VE GOT IT!" and sit down and write a scene/oneshot/entire book in one go? That was me this morning with this.
I've always wondered how the hell Itherael MISSED the Creation of Sanctuary in his Scroll of Fate. I mean, it's only the biggest WTF-moment, and quite a worldchanger turn in Creation's History, AAAND it IS connected to the fate of an angel. And don't give me that bullshit that Itherael only sees possibilities of certain events. Would he honestly witness the possible birth of a new world with a new and superpowerful race and then go "eh... that's probably not important to bring up to the Council". Am I right, or am I right? Anyway, so this is my take on Itherael and his supposedly "lack" of knowledge about Sanctuary. Prophecy of the End Days thrown into there, cuz we needed some tasty angst.
It's actually a standalone oneshot, but if you want, you could connect it to my fanfiction "That First Spark", since they share the same timeline, same Universe, same everything. Whatever rocks your boat, man.
Hope you guys enjoyed it! Let me hear what you think about Itherael and his prophecies! You guys got any theories of your own?
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