"I'd take you with me, Nala-I swear it-but I won't risk you getting hurt, and I can promise I will be back soon." Malthael could remember saying that to the young human girl.
That was 6 months ago.
If she were pregnant, she'd be halfway through the process, he thought grimly.
Over halfway.
At the moment, he was taking a break from his tireless studying, and his mind was wandering to places he wished it weren't-The day he left, did he truly hurt Imperius?
Did Imperius even care about him?
Did anyone in the Heavens care about him?
Shaking his head, he pushed the troublesome thoughts away and began tapping his fingers on the bone desk; a habit he'd picked up from Nala. A shotel in hand, he also began to let his left leg bounce a little, a tic from Vader.
Guess that's what happens when you spend too much time around a certain set of people. They become family, sometimes even moreso than family by blood.
Looking around, he surveyed the piles of books that had been promptly tossed aside when he found no vital information in them. He knew that now he had only one rational option left, and he was far from thrilled about it; the only option, now, was to visit the Pools of Wisdom. But that would require him to go to the High Heavens, where the rest of the council resided.
Shaking his head, he heaved a heavy sigh. He, the Angel of Death, was trapped in a corner, with walls on all sides and but one escape. He then stood slowly, sighing. "Why fight it, Malthael?" He asked himself softly, smiling faintly despite himself-maybe it was because the truth was slowly dawning on him, that if he wanted to save anyone, he'd have to face the place be'd left behind; the family he'd left behind-, "you know you'll have to go sooner or later... and the longer you prolongue it, the more people die, by the thousands; by the millions, even."
And it was true. More and more poured into the underworld, and Malthael wished to stop the unnessicary suffering of humankind. That would require visiting his old quarters and perhaps even working with the council-with his brother-again; an idea he was not too keen on. All the same, he wouldn't mind seeing the others so much-Itherael, the Archangel of Fate, who was always abused by Imperius, quiet, softspoken and kind, as well as smart, but sadness always traced in his voice, Auriel, the Archangel of Hope, who always told her brothers in wings to keep hope for the future, always happy and looking up, positively, and Tyrael, the Archangel of Justice, who fought for what was right, and was a kind and just friend, as well as strong.
But he had only one concern; what would they think of him, now, 200,000,000 years after he abandon them?

Standing at the Diamond Gates of Heaven, Malthael could feel his gut twisting. What a surprise Imperius would be in for.
What a surprise they'd all be in for.
After all, he had been gone for 200,000,000 years. Using this as little motvation to feel better (it didn't work, it, in fact, only made him feel worse), Malthael managed a weak laugh.
Would Death be allowed into Heaven?
He was an Angel, but he didn't know at this point.
He took another step forward. Then another. And another. Soon he was at the very arch, about to enter Heaven. Odd; there were no Angels about. But then, he was sure that things would have changed a little in 200,000,000 years. At least a little. And then he stepped inside. Looking up, Malthael could just faintly see the Higher Heavens. Jumping into the air, he swiftly carried himself up, soon landing in the main pavillion, where they all would normally be. There was silence. Now Malthael was a little worried. Setting himself down and flapping his wings once more, Malthael began to walk.
His footsteps echoed around the silent Heavens, just as his wingbeats had-which was wonderously odd, as he was the most silent flier that the Heavens had.
Looking around, Malthael felt his emotions whirling as he remembered centuries worth of happy memories. However, he shoved his emotions down into a mental cage and locked them there.
He didn't need them right now. Or ever, for that matter.
He decided quickly to see if Itherael was in the Library of Fate.
He knew that in the event that he was, he could count on the Archangel to tell him what in the name of Death was going on. He treaded lightly; as it was awkward for him to hear his own footsteps echoing. It was something he wasn't used to.
Soon he came to the Library, and silently, he entered. After a bit of walking, he indeed found Itherael. The angel was huddled in the corner of the main platform, his back to Malthael. "Hello, Imperius. No, I don't have any progress on the history of the Nephalem or Zoltun Kulle, Imperius. I apologize, Imperius." His voice was sadder than usual, much more panicked than Malthael could ever recall, and shrill. Malthael had been told that his essence was very akin to his brother's, but if Itherael couldn't distinguish his essence from Imperius', he must have been terribly stressed.
Taking Malthael's silence as an angry, threatening silence, Itherael turned, words already tumbling. "I told you! I don't have any progress . . . ? M-Malthael...? I-I..." Now he was at a loss for words, taking in the Archangel's appearance, and taking a moment to confirm that he was there.
"Wh-What happened to you...?" He asked quietly. Malthael glided to him and gently grabbed his arm, hoisting the shorter angel to a stand, noting that the angel shuddered significantly under his touch.
Did I really go cold? So cold, in fact, that not only do my emotions barely process, but my body itself has gone cold to the touch?
"Do not mind me, what happened to you?" Malthael responded, also noting that the other was shaking, and it was clearly not from the cold grip of his hand, which he hastily took from the other's arm-as he could see frost forming on the armour under his palm.
Cold mind, cold body, I suppose.
"I-If I tell you, he-he-he'll hear me..." Was Itherael's response.
"Who, Imperius?"
A weak nod from Itherael. Wincing internally, Malthael noticed there were tiny trails of tears running down his cheeks, and he ached to wipe them away, but he knew they would merely freeze under his touch.
"If he tries to hurt you, he... he'll have to fight me before you. Now, tell me, my friend, what has happened to you?"
I haven't been here for five minutes, even, and I'm already making threats.
... Death threats. How ironic.
"I-I... Imperius, he... demanded I f-find out what was causing this... when I found out, I-I... It was too late and-and... he... t-told me that, if I-I fa-fail again, he... he'll k-kill me... I'm f-finding a w-way to stop this, b-but to n-no avail... I-I could... h-heh, I could use... wisdom like your's... h-heh, he-heh..."
Malthael went to reply, but could find nothing to say.
Has he really gotten that tyranical? That's low-even for him.
"I... What is it that is causing this? If I knew, I'm sure I could find a way to stop it."
Itherael looked at the other hopefully. "T-The Black Sou-Soulstone, cr-created by the d-dark wizard, Zo-Zoltun Kulle.. D-designed to ent-entrap all souls of angels and d-demons so men could rule... I-it contains D-Duriel, Andariel, D-Diablo, Ba-Baal, and Mephi-Mephisto.." His voice shook still, and Malthael nodded.
"Thank you, Itherael. Come, and we shall find Tyrael and Auriel."
"N-No Imperius?"
This drew a half scoff, half laugh from Malthael. "No. Why would we involve him, if all he will do is bring his oppressive ways down upon us? He will be cut from this equation until further notice," Now Malthael was getting a stronger voice, like he'd had when he still led the council, "and, until further notice, I will resume leading the council. Is that fair?"
"Y-Yes, Malthael.. Thank you," was Ithereal's weak, quiet reply as he looked up at the male.
Though, there was hope in his voice; Malthael was back.
The fracture in the council could be mended, and it would become stronger than before.
"There is not a need to thank me, my friend," said Malthael softly, and perhaps, only just perhaps, he felt the same way.
Only if Imperius is gone.