Ah, hey guys! Sorry for the wait, but due to writer's block, I decided that I would re-write the chapters of this story!
Ah, if you guys have questions/comments/concerns about the story so far, don't be scared to say them-I don't bite ! :)

Also, as you'll see in later chapters featuring Malthael, I decided that, as this story is quite dark, it needed some humour, and so I have added some tidbits, which include sarcasm, and even breaking the fourth wall.

As for now... Enjoy the new and improved chapters!

Zolton Kulle. That was where this madness started. He was the man who created this Black Soulstone, which was designed to have the ability to entrap the souls of Angels and Demon alike. That was Itherael, the Archangel of Fate's, part in the plot to stop all demonic corruption forever. For days he secluded himself in the Library of Fate, looking to the past, present and future for answers. Any answers. From the past, he could see the dark wizard Zolton Kulle, creating the stone for his own selfish greed; to entrap every demon and angel so humankind could rule the land and he would be praised as king, though he claimed it was for the good of humanity. He could see it being sculpted, he could see Kulle hunched over the stone, working his twisted, corrupt magic, he could see its final, definite form, he could see-
"Itherael!" Snapped a rather impatient voice from the mouth of the platform that Itherael was on, in deep meditation. Shook out of his meditation, Itherael winced slightly at the silhouette of another, larger angel, its arms crossed, its right armoured foot tapping impatiently. Mostly, he was wincing at the brilliant orange light radiating from their wings.
"Well?"
"Nothing, Imperius. I'm sorry." Itherael had a habit of apologizing for everything (some, such as the man at the entrance, found it highly pathetic and annoying). It was just how he was. He bumped into someone? "I'm sorry."
Coughed next to someone? "I'm sorry."
It was just a habit. And he truly did mean it; he was a very sincere angel, and if he did lie, it was always for the greater good.
But Imperius wasn't having it. "Nothing? Itherael, we're running out of time!" He growled, his brilliant flame-orange wings flapping impatiently. "I swear,"
The man snarled, "if you don't come up with anything within the next day, I'll have you sent to the Burning Hells to die. Mark my words."
"Yes, Imperius. Sorry, Imperius."
"Don't feed me your 'sorry, Imperius.' You and I both know you aren't. Now, get back to studying!" Imperius roared, turning and storming out of the library, the platform shaking under his every angry, thundering step. Again, Itherael winced. Imperius was the brother of the Archangel of Death, Malthael-the former leader of the High Heavens. Unlike his brother, Imperius was a hothead and rarely kind to anyone.
Sometimes Itherael wondered if he was even nice to himself.
Now, the angel of Fate found himself needing to visit Malthael's old Pools of Wisdom-from when he was still the Archangel of Wisdom, and still led the Heavens. More, useful information would be there.
As he entered the part of the High Heavens that Malthael once dwelt in, Itherael felt a pang of loss and sadness; Malthael had once been their calm, level-headed leader-the guiding hand of the council. He was always kind, and rarely was he angry (Though, when he was angry, it was advised to stay out of his way. He was able to rival even Diablo himself with how terrifying he was, when angry).
If you needed advice? Go to Malthael.
Needed a friend to lean on? Go to Malthael. He was dependable and kind, though he was known to often get into squabbles with his younger brother.
Imperius was the leader of the Angiris Council, now that Malthael left. The council seemed to be crumbling slowly under his leadership-or, for better words, dictatorship.
Even now, Itherael could hear the last, stinging words that Malthael had said to his brother before he left, never to be heard from again: "You always have been jealous of me, haven't you, Imperius?-Jealous that I was the leader, that I was the smarter of us two. Perhaps you'll have your way; perhaps you'll be the leader of the council."
He never returned that day. The day he left, he had left gifts for each member of the council, save for Imperius. Itherael almost thought that he'd been planning it for some time, and simply needed an excuse to leave. Maybe he looked into the future and saw the fight that would happen, and saw it as a perfect chance to make his leave.
The day he left, he left with him a fracture in the council that to this day remained unrepaired. Malthael was known to make frequent departures, without any of the council knowing where he went, but until that day he never had stayed gone. Itherael could remember the day Malthael, his friend, his brother in wings, left the council for good. He was especially fed up with Imperius...

"You always act surperiour to us because you're the Archangel of Wisdom, brother, and I'm sick and tired of it!" Imperius snarled at the much taller angel, clenching his fists and flapping his wings irritably.
"Do I now?" Malthael's voice was unusually cold. Cold and hard, like platinum. "Funny you should say that; you're the one that acts so much better than the rest of us because you just so happen to be the Archangel of Valour. But know this: your bravery makes you a fool. You let it go to your head and fuel you. When have you ever paid any of the rest of us a mere, 'good job!' or even a compliment? Never. It's always about you. You, you, you, you, you, you, you, you! I'm tired of it. Then again, you always have been jealous of me, haven't you, Imperius?" Now Malthael's tone was even colder, like the icy hand of death itself, almost an icy, mocking tone to it. It was nothing that any angel had heard Malthael sound like, and it scared them. ''Jealous that I was the leader, that I was the smarter of us two. Perhaps you'll have your way; perhaps you'll be the leader of the council."
And he turned and left without another word, without a single glance over his shoulder.

Shaking his head, Itherael did his best to push away the empty feeling of regret that stabbed his chest like a demonic arrow. But, akin to a demonic arrow, the pain failed to cease, so Itherael went by ignoring it.
He did that a lot. Simply ignored the pain-ignored the dark thoughts that lurked in the shadowy corners of his mind, thoughts that stung and bit at him.
Trying to push throughs of Malthael from his mind.
But, then again, that was much easier said than done, seen as to how he was standing in the Archangel's old quarters. Since his departure, the other Archangels tried to avoid going in as much as possible. This was Itherael's first time in, and he could now understand why: the calm essence of Malthael still lingered on the air, at a very beautiful black desk a book still lay open-Itherael wondered for how long it stood there, waiting patiently for its owner that would never return. Beside it, two candles still burned dimly, and papers written in cyphers and runes covered the desktop, layers and layers of dust covering them. Now Itherael faintly remembered Imperius' reaction to his brother's departure. He had muttered something under his breath, shaking his head-perhaps it was a "He'll be back... He couldn't live without us."-and turned, walking off silently, and now Itherael wondered if it ever gnawed at his leader, if the knowledge that Malthael never returned hurt.
"That's why he never comes here then?" Itherael though out loud, and instantly was hit with a wave of remorse. Speaking in Malthael's quarters was like laughing at a funeral; it just was something you didn't do.
Turning, Itherael walked-glided, to be more precice, as he didn't want to disturb the dust on the floors that Malthael had once walked upon. Honestly, Malthael's part of the High Heavens were breathtaking-gold, blue and white, blue glimmering trees, waterfalls pooling together at Itherael's feet, others spilling down, down, down into the Lower Heavens...
"I can't take it," Itherael said suddenly, and he went to turn away, to return to the Library of Fate where the sorrow could chase him no longer, and would instead be replaced with his own foreboding, dark thoughts. Then he remembered Imperius' words, and he knew one things for certain: it was not just a threat, it was a promise.

Upon arriving at the Pools of Wisdom, Itherael gasped softly in admiration. He knew Malthael had a good sense of what looked good, but if he though the rest of the place was petty, it was nothing compared to this.
He wandered the pools idly-simply admiring the architexture of it all-before going to search. Soon, he found what he needed-which pool of mystic water and miriad emotion held the information he sought in it-, and he stooped, scooping some of the shimmering, glistening pale blue water into his hand. He looked into it, looked long and hard, and found the information he needed.
The Black Soulstone, codenamed by Kulle as Snowflake Obsidian, was designed to keep the souls of all angels and demons. Yes, that he already knew; but upon looking harder, he found out that it currently contained the essences of two Lesser Evils-Duriel and his twin sister, Andariel-and the three Prime Evils-Diablo, Baal, and Mephisto. Quickly, as to not disturb the pools, Itherael let the water trickle from his fingers back into the pool.
Straightening, he readied to tell Imperius of his findings, but a sharp scream of terror and pain told him everything that was needed to know; he was too late. Warfare had began.