Chapter III: The Flying Rodent of Heaven
The Silver City twinkled in the haze of early morning.
Its crystalline spires glistened as if sprinkled with wet dew. The floors, the water, the trees formed of starlight itself, sang to the passage of time around them. It was a gentle, triumphant chorus of humming and chimes. It birthed the slivers of cool breezes that rushed down its paths, and caused the wings of its denizens to glow magnificently.
High even among the Heavens, Auriel spotted him where he often loved coming; a simple man dressed in comfortable beige linens. His dark face was lined with scars and weariness, but there was strength in these features as well. His posture was straight, confident, and humble. His golden eyes held the essence of compassion in their depths.
"I can hear your song a mile away, Auriel." He did not move as he spoke to her; she could hear the smile in his voice. "Do not be sorry for it, though. Hearing it fills me with Hope, and it rejuvenates me."
The angel floated beside him and landed softly on the surface of the Silver Spire. Together they gazed upon the beauty of the Heavens in relative peace.
"Your mortality is something I need to get used to," she admitted. "The entirety of the Heavenly Host agrees, though I doubt they will tell you so in person, Tyrael."
The man chuckled softly. His human voice held a roughness that wasn't there before. It spoke of his newfound frailness, and a calling of hidden strength.
"I miss being able to swoop down from here already." He eyed the great drop below him with an uneasy smile. "But as for the other angels, I don't concern myself with their whispers. They'll grow accustomed to me in time. Hopefully, through me, they can learn that mortals are worth more than what they've thought for so long."
Auriel turned to him. Tyrael knew she smirked from within her faceless hood, "Hope is on your side in this, as it has always been, my friend." Her wings chilled his skin as she stepped past him. "It's so strange seeing someone that can't fly up here. It's like looking at a hairless rodent," she jested.
Tyrael roared with laughter. The entirety of the Span roared with him. Angels hovering at either end now looked in his direction, bemused and elated by his mirth.
"I'm still working on mortal humor," Auriel said earnestly. "I should like to see more someday. Perhaps in person, as you have."
It was obvious that he was touched by her efforts. Tyrael took to her side as they made their way back down to the lower levels of the Heavens.
"In all seriousness," Tyrael began, "I know that Imperius can't be pleased."
"Do not concern yourself with him," Auriel sighed. "Imperius has been as he has always been; vehement about the protection of the Heavens as the Archangel of Valor –as he should be," she conceded. She inclined her head towards the angels that cleared way for them. "Keep in mind, Tyrael, that he witnessed the destruction of The Diamond Gates, the invasion of our realm, and the near corruption of The Crystal Arch. He could not stop it, though it was his duty, and a mere mortal had succeeded where he had failed."
"She was no mere mortal," Tyrael objected. "She was nephalem."
"Even worse. Imperius had voted for the destruction of Sanctuary and all nephalem ages ago; do you not remember the events of the Sin War?" she asked. "When destruction first visited us, he naturally felt bitter about us -about you- , risking so much to spare mankind. The Prime Evil was birthed by mortal means. Being saved by one of the beings he has sought to eradicate was like being rescued by an ant he's been dismissing all his life. His pride is in ruins, Tyrael."
"As it should be," he scoffed. "For too long has the Host been arrogant, thinking itself immune to mortal men and their power. They have choice in all things where we do not. Let us guide them towards the Light. Together we can truly banish evil forever."
"And should the evil present in their hearts become more sinister than the light we bathe them in?" she inquired ominously. Tyrael frowned deeply in her direction. Auriel shrugged. "I merely pose a circumstance we may have to deal with in the future. You are no longer Justice, Tyrael, but Wisdom. You cannot do what is right solely for mortals without forsaking your angelic roots."
"And you are not Itherael," he countered. "Leave Fate and the deciphering of its paths to him, Auriel. Hope is what you do best."
At that point neither of the Aspects were pleased with one another. They tread towards the Library of Fate in silence. The spaces between Auriel's violet wings crackled with static energy, evidence of her irked state. Tyrael was also vexed, but he could not deny that Auriel had a solid point. He felt guilty, recognizing that he had, in fact, forsaken his brethren to come to the aid of mankind on far too many occasions to be overlooked. It suddenly made sense why Auriel mentioned the opinions of the other angels to him on his becoming mortal. In Tyrael's eyes, he was bridging a great gap between two potential allies. To the Host, they saw a traitor in their midst.
"What of your champion?" Auriel asked suddenly. "What is it you call her?"
"Valla." He recomposed himself. "She is a Demon Hunter. Harsh and brutal at first glance, but righteous and good once you know her."
Auriel smiled inwardly. "She is not half as cold as she appears to be. She hides a great, though wounded, heart. I could sense that she is driven by a deep well of hatred for the demons that threaten us all, but it is sustained by a deeper source of love for the people she wishes to protect from them."
"You probably never told her this to her face," Tyrael suspected, amused by what he was hearing. "Else she might have opted to keep you trapped out of spite." He couldn't resist a mischievous smirk. "Valla does not care much for others delving into her heart. In my experience, it is the fastest way to fall from her graces, and that in turn is the fastest way to get into a great deal of trouble."
Auriel laughed, "I would have loved to have seen Tyrael, the Great Archangel of Justice, helpless in the face of an aggravated mortal woman."
The angel couldn't deny that his smile in human form was charming. He had dimples on his rugged face; something that made him look so young and daring he could have passed for a thief. She knew in her heart that mortality suited him. It was as if he was born an angel to become a man.
"What is Valla doing now? Hers will not be a simple life any longer." Her voice was thick with concern. "She is a great warrior and our savior. It would be unwise to allow her to roam about without a means of contacting her, should the need arise."
"I have already come up with a solution."
Itherael flew before them. The Scroll of Fate remained fastened to his side as it often was. He brought forth a bracelet from his sleeves. It appeared to be made of porcelain at first glance, but in the ever changing light of the Library, it gleamed from imperceptible facets in its construction, shining with an inherent glow.
"The matter of the Demon Hunter weighed upon my mind heavily." He looked between the two of them. "I can only suppose that it has been the same for you as well, Auriel, Tyrael, or else you wouldn't have come to my sanctum." Itherael handed the cuff to the only mortal among them. "I forged this from the true silver at the base of our wings; yours from when you discarded them. I apologize for using the metal without your permission," he added quickly. "But seeing as it has been done, only you can speak to the Demon Hunter directly. The matching cuff must be given to her for a connection to be established."
Auriel hovered beside him suspiciously. "I would never have thought you to be so concerned for mortals."
"Not mortals," he disagreed. "This one mortal, this nephalem, has saved all Creation. We, and the entirety of the High Heavens, owe her a debt we can never hope to repay. It is our duty to watch over her, and unlike Imperius, I can admit this freely. Our eyes have been forcibly made open, thanks to Diablo's invasion. We are indeed susceptible to many things. We need allies, and above all, we need to take responsibility for our mortal children. For too long have we treated them, the result of angelic and demonic copulation, as abominations. I believe now that these bastard children must be made our heirs. It is not without risk that I propose this, but the Demon Hunter -Valla, has given me the strength to believe in the good of mankind."
The conviction in Itherael's voice caused the halls of the Library to ring with him. Tyrael allowed the tremors reverberate throughout his flesh and bones, seeping into his soul. No words could describe how touched he felt by his brother's declaration. He gazed upon the cuff in his hands with renewed joy.
"Thank you, Itherael. This means much to me."
The Archangel of Fate bowed gracefully. "Is there anything else I can do for you? I imagine being a mortal in the Heavens has led to unease in your heart."
Tyrael grimaced; he was tired of angels either eyeing him strangely, or angels thinking he was pitiable in his current state. No one would have questioned him as the Archangel of Justice, but as a man, they were treating him like a fragile beast. Did he truly look so weak to them?
"Brother...you say you forged these cuffs from my wings," Tyrael ventured musingly.
"I did."
"Do you think it possible to forge new, smaller wings from them?" he asked curiously. "Fit for a man's shoulders."
Auriel laughed in spite of herself. Again, Tyrael made a displeased expression. This only served to humor her further. Itherael watched this exchange, deeply puzzled.
"Yes, though I fail to see why this incites laughter."
"As do I," Tyrael agreed sternly. "Auriel?"
The angel of Hope hovered away from them. "The Host will think you mad, Tyrael," she giggled. "Not only will you look like a hairless rodent, in terms of strangeness, but a hairless rodent with wings?"
Tyrael blanched.
What happened next Itherael had no words to describe. Put bluntly, Tyrael ran after Auriel who was near hysterics with laughter. This would have been a peculiar sight indeed if they were both angels, but as a man, Tyrael lacked their natural grace. He fumbled and appeared sloppy at best in his pursuit, very much, as Auriel had said, like a hairless rodent by comparison. Imperius...
Itherael paled.
Imperius would no doubt be disgusted, if not enraged by the sight. The Archangel of Fate could hear him ranting about the disgrace wrought upon the High Heavens already. Although he wasn't entirely sure if he would do much about it beyond agreeing with him. Precious few things ever made the keeper of the Scroll of Fate amused over the many long years of his existence. Fewer enticed him to smile.
But the sight of Auriel, taunting Tyrael in the air to follow after her, was nearly enough to make him grin.
