Amor Vincit Omnia

(Love Conquers All)

Part III: Children of Heaven

"Dunkle Wolken und finstere gedanken
Die Vollmondnacht zerbricht meine Schranken
In mir kommt die Gier auf Getier, dass ich massakrier
Spür diese Lust auf Blut jetzt und hier
Tief in die Nacht die funkelnden Sterne
Ein sußer Geruch zeiht mich in die Ferne
Aber Acht wenn ganz sacht in der Nacht meine Glut entfacht
Und der Jäger in mir erwacht."

"Dark clouds and dark thoughts
The full-moon night shatters my barriers
I feel the desire to massacre animals
Feel this lust for blood, here and now
Deep in the night, the glowing stars
A sweet scent pulls me into the distance
But beware, for if my passion rises, gently in the night
The hunter in me will wake."
- E Nomine
"Das Tier in Mir" (The Beast in Me)

Surprise! I bet you guys weren't expecting another chapter so soon! Haha, I just couldn't stop writing this one ... I'd love it if all my updates were so fast, but of course I can't promise anything. I'd love feedback, though! :D I was so thrilled that this story hit 100 reviews after last chapter, it really made my day! You guys are awesome!

Chapter Fourteen: Vengeance

Baal had been expecting an ambush, and so was neither surprised nor relieved when the chamber proved to be deserted. There was a magical barrier around the heart, which he suspected was linked to the life-force of a certain demon, probably Cydaea. Slay her, and the heart would be open.

"Don't touch that," he warned Freja, who was reaching out toward the barrier. "It'll hurt you."

The Barbarian scoffed, but withdrew her hand. Ghor said, "You may set me down now, rafiki. You will need all your mobility in a moment, I fear."

Obediently, Freja knelt, and with Caesar's assistance, Ghor slid down from her back. He guided her to a corner of the room, helping her to sit.

"Don't worry," he said, patting her hand. "We've got this one covered. You just sit tight and save all your energy for what's to come."

"That is … wise," Ghor admitted. "I shall do my best."

"Hey, Cydaea!" shouted Baal. "You wanted to see us, didn't you? Here we are! Come out and play, unless you've lost your nerve!"

From above came a lascivious moan, echoing around the walls until the room sounded as though it was housing an orgy. A large silhouette became visible against the ceiling, dropping rapidly towards them. The reddish light shone softly on porcelain skin and glinted off hardened carapaces as the Maiden of Lust revealed herself.

She was repulsive, and yet bizarrely alluring: a strange combination of beauty and horror. From the waist up, she resembled a human female, albeit a rather fiendish one. She was dressed provocatively in a low-cut corset, and her face was partially hidden by a coquettish veil, so that the only feature visible was a pair of full lips, painted black. But at her hips, everything changed, her form mutating into that of a spider, more delicate than Aranaea but no less massive and terrifying. Each of her eight legs, obscenely parted, was sheathed in ornate armor and ended in a four-foot spike. Her abdomen, mottled gold and black, was equipped with a stinger that oozed poison.

She landed before him with surprising grace, considering her size, and severed the string that she had used to descend. Eying him up and down, she said, "Oh my! You're even better-looking than I imagined, darling! I'm definitely going to keep you, though I'll have to get rid of your pesky friends first."

"I'd rather die than be your slave," Baal growled, raising both crossbows to aim directly at her face. But he never got a chance to fire, for as soon as he moved, Cydaea reared up and lashed out at him with her front legs, and he had to backflip away from her to avoid being run through.

With a fearsome cry, Freja came charging in from the side. Cydaea scuttled away from her, crablike, keeping just out of range as she led the Barbarian in a circle around the room. Baal fired a few shots at her, but he couldn't really open up for fear of hitting his ally instead. He cursed himself for not taking the time to make more bombs, or even a trap or two. Cydaea was obviously reliant entirely on speed to be her defense; if they could force her to remain stationary, they could hack her to pieces.

As soon as he thought it, the obvious solution occurred to him. "Caesar!" he shouted. "Keep her still!"

"On it," grunted the wizard. At the demon rushed by him with Freja in hot pursuit, he released an icy blast from his gloved palm. It struck Cydaea at the joint of her 'waist', where the bloated abdomen connected to her legs – a weak spot on any spider. But either she was too powerful, or Caesar's spell was feeble, for though her movements slowed a little bit, she was not fully frozen, as Baal had hoped. Instead she stopped and spun around, dealing out a vicious blow with her leg that Freja only just managed to dodge.

This put her back to him, however, and he did not miss the chance to fire everything he had. The curvature of her abdomen, coupled with its hard surface, meant that most of his bolts ricocheted off. But the ones that struck near her stinger found softer flesh, and went deep. Cydaea shrieked, stomping her legs.

"Wicked boy," she gasped, "to cause me such pain!"

"Stick around," said the Hunter in response. "There's a lot more waiting for you."

A moment later, he wished that he'd kept his mouth shut, for she made a dash for the wall and was up it before any of them could stop her, fading into the shadows.

"Damn fuck!" yelled Freja, who appeared to have learned some expressive language from Lyndon without proper lessons on how to apply it coherently. "Come back and fight, spider bitch!"

"What's wrong with the floor?" Caesar asked suddenly. Baal glanced down to see that the center of the platform was bubbling like a heated cauldron. A horde of the multi-legged creatures that they had fought earlier poured forth. Baal groaned.

"This is wasting our time," he said. "You two deal with them; I'll take care of Cydaea."

Gawahir had launched from his shoulder as soon as their foe vanished, and was now circling the area, scouting for traces of her. On the ground, Baal kept pace, eyes trained on his faithful minion. When the raven began to flutter madly, shrieking, "Found her! Found her!", he raised Thaqib and unleashed a flurry of bolts. A large patch of darkness disengaged and scurried across the ceiling, and he tracked her, still firing.

"Why do you hate me so?" the demon wailed, her unearthly voice slicing into his mind. "All I wanted was to please you! We could have been the best of friends!"

Baal snorted, recalling something that Vera had said to him once, when he asked her whether they were friends or enemies. "Who needs enemies when I have a friend like you, Baal?" she had replied. He had thought it funny at the time. Now it just struck him as sad. He had never been able to tell her so, but he would have loved her if she had allowed him to.

"Baal!" Caesar cried. "Behind you! Two of them got through!"

He spun around, stomping down on one of the creatures and pinning it to the floor. The other he transfixed with a bolt – the last in his clip. As he went to reload, he felt a sharp prick on the side of his knee. The trapped spiderling, lashing its tail, had managed to score a hit.

Snarling, he ground its head under his heel, killing it, but it was too late. His leg was already stiffening, the joint growing immobile. Fearing that Cydaea would try to isolate him while he was weak, he hobbled over to his companions as quickly as he could. Caesar reached out to steady him, saying, "Shit, I'm sorry, that was my fault. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he grumbled. "Luckily it got my bad leg."

"How is that lucky?"

Baal rolled his eyes. "Because if it had been the other one, I wouldn't be able to walk at all. Idiot."

Freja had taken up an odd position, feet spread apart, back straight, and shoulders squared. Repeatedly, she raised her weapon over her head and let it fall straight down, stopping it an inch before it hit the floor.

"What are you doing?" Caesar asked.

"I have good thought," she said confidently. "Get spider bitch down."

"If your plan involves swinging that big sword of yours at the ceiling, then let me stop you right there," Baal said. "We don't want to cause a cave in."

The Barbarian turned and shoved him violently backwards. Staggering, he barely managed to keep himself upright. For a moment, he could not understand her aggression – had he pissed her off that badly by stopping her? – but then something landed quivering in the stone at his feet: one of his own arrows, but glistening a poisonous green.

Freja had blocked two more of the projectiles with the blade of her sword. She shook her head, saying, "We wait too long already."

"She's teasing us right now," Baal said. "That means she's relaxed; she's not taking us seriously. That's a good thing."

"She's teasing us because she knows she can," snapped Caesar. "We can't let her draw this out any longer, Baal."

"I know," he replied. "I've got an idea. Can you power up one of my bolts?"

"What do you want, exactly?"

"It doesn't matter. Something spectacular."

Caesar thought for a moment, and then grinned. "Okay. Hand me your bow."

Baal obliged. The wizard ran the tip of his wand along the surface of the bolt, leaving the wooden shaft glittering with frost. He returned the weapon handle-first. Baal took careful aim at the place where the arrows had come from, and then, spurred by a sudden intuition, shifted his sights about three feet to the left and let fly.

At first, nothing extraordinary seemed to happen. But when the bolt was approximately halfway to its intended target, there was a bone-shattering roar, and it was enveloped in serpentine body, similar to the hydra that Caesar had summoned before, but with only one head. The creature spiraled through the air, shedding snowflakes as it went, and burst upon the rocks where Cydaea clung in a splash of ice. The Maiden of Lust plunged downwards, screaming as she went, and landed on her back with a juddering crash. Her eight legs twitched and spasmed.

Even before she hit the ground, Freja was dashing in. With a single sweep of her blade, she severed two of Cydaea's legs. Before she could attack a second time, however, the demon managed to flip herself upright. Quickly, she retreated, the stumps of her missing limbs wiggling grotesquely as she tried to move them.

"Traitors!" she hissed. "Foul and corrupt, spoiling my beautiful body! What will my lord think of me now? I'll be cast out, abandoned, left to die – all thanks to you! Oh, humans are far crueler than I ever imagined they could be!"

"Look who's talking," said Baal. "What's the matter, Cydaea? Can't stand the taste of your own medicine?"

She was limping now, her remaining legs trembling with strain. "Please!" she sobbed, hands clasped together. "Don't kill me! I'll do anything you like …"

"Too bad," Baal said coldly. "What we desire is your death."

Freja stepped in to deliver the finishing blow, but Cydaea was not quite as helpless as she had seemed. Her front leg unfurled with the speed of a whip, striking the sword from Freja's hands and knocking her over. In a flash she was atop her victim, the stinger on her abdomen hovering menacingly.

Caesar didn't hesitate. His palm shot out, producing an ice beam that hit Cydaea square in the chest, freezing her. It was all the opportunity that Freja needed to wiggle free and grab her weapon. As the spell's effect began to wear off, she brought the blade down in a mighty arc, cleaving the demon in two at the waist. Cydaea's last expression was full of astonishment as she stared at them. A small gurgle escaped from her throat. Then her legs collapsed under her and her upper body slid forward and landed face-first on the ground. The barrier over the Sin Heart died with her.

Without a word, Freja walked to the Heart and stabbed it, twisting her sword viciously before pulling it free. Punctured, the massive organ shriveled as its lifeblood leaked away.

"Well," said Baal, "I'm down to sixteen arrows, including the ones that are already loaded into my bows. Let's hope we don't meet anything else on the way to Azmodan."

Caesar nodded in weary agreement. His normally pale face had taken on the sickly grayish hue that indicated his arcane reserves were dangerously low. At least Ghor looked the better for her brief rest, and Freja was still as vigorous as ever, crouching to allow the witch doctor to climb on her back once again.

In grim silence, they continued on past Cydaea's corpse and down the stairs on the other side of the chamber. The first few steps were hell for Baal, his wounded leg exploding with agony whenever he put his weight on it. For a delirious moment, he contemplated asking Caesar for a piggy-back ride as well. But the pain grew more tolerable with each step until he could walk with only a slight limp. Probably, he figured, something to do with movement increasing the blood flow, which had been impeded by the spiderlings' venom.

At the bottom of the stairs, they were met with a blast of heat rushing up through the arched doorway. Freja was the first through, and she stopped dead in her tracks. The others peered past her, staring awestruck at the sight before them.

At last, they had reached the crater – a colossal bowl scooped from the earth, a wound so deep that the world's lifeblood oozed thick and hot from the stone. The lake of lava was perhaps a mile wide, perhaps larger, and it created a haze of black smoke that blocked out all sight of the sky. It had been visible from Bastion's Keep, a constant plume billowing skyward, but from such a distance there had been no way of imagining what it was like to actually be there, mere feet from the molten core of Sanctuary.

"Arreat," whispered Freja. "The birthplace of my people. I will die happy now."

"It's quite something," said Caesar. "How in Heaven's name are we supposed to cross it?"

"There are pathways," Baal said, pointing.

"Yes," grumbled the wizard. "Narrow pathways that look like they might sink at any moment. Splendid."

"To fall in Arreat's burning water is glorious death," Freja proclaimed.

Caesar snorted. "Replace 'glorious' with 'excruciating' and you've got it right."

"You are not bojovnici, you cannot understand. This place calls to me. It makes my bones sing."

"It'll make your bones melt if you get too close to it, Freja, so just stay away from the edges, okay?"

"Mage is worried!" Freja said, grinning. "So sweet."

"Come on, all of you," said Baal. "Let's get moving."

With the Barbarian in the lead, they followed the bridge of black stone as it snaked its way through the lava. Curved spikes of stone rose up like fangs on either side of the path, so that it seemed like they were walking into the maw of some ancient and terrible beast. Scattered here and there were piles of bleached bones. Curious, Baal took a closer look at one and realized that they were human.

Like the interior of mountain, the paths were tangled and confusing: doubling back, ending abruptly, or sometimes disappearing into the fiery depths below. They picked their way as best they could, retreating when necessary. The going was slow and laborious. The relentless heat seemed to drain their stamina even more than fighting, and had an added stupefying effect on their minds. Even Freja was looking rather glassy-eyed after twenty minutes.

"This is worse than the desert!" Caesar groaned after they had once again been forced to turn around and go back. "I think I've sweated out every drop of moisture in my body. Does anybody have any water?"

Baal shook his head. "No. We wanted to travel light, remember? Besides, it would be warm by now, anyway."

"I don't care," Caesar said. "I'd drink it anyway."

At that moment, a sudden wind whipped through the crater, parting the smoke for a brief instant, and they caught a glimpse of an enormous structure off to the left, looming over them.

"There," said Baal. "That's where he'll be, I guarantee it."

"And if we find Azmodan," said Ghor, "then we will find Saiya."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Caesar cried, breaking into a jog. Baal hurried after him as rapidly as he could, trying to prepare himself mentally for whatever he would find.

They climbed the stairs to the door, which had been bashed open by a great force. Entering, the found themselves in a wide-open space lit by thin waterfalls of lava, which were captured in a trench around the perimeter of the room and directed through channels that covered the floor in an intricate pattern. It had obviously been a place of worship once, but Baal was not interested in the historical value of the temple. His attention was fixed solely on the altar in the center of the chamber, and the woman stretched out on it, her bare body dwarfed by the huge slab of stone. She was motionless.

"No!" Caesar's voice was strangled. "No, Saiya!"

In the shadows behind the altar, a vast body stirred, eyes igniting and teeth showing black against the burning throat as the mouth split open. The ground shook as he rose up from the dais on which he sat.

"Nephalem fools!" Azmodan rumbled. "I warned you what would happen if you crossed me, did I not? Now you will pay the consequences for your meddling."

Baal barely felt his knees hitting the ground. He heard a voice call his name as if from a great distance but couldn't muster the will to respond. Foolishly, he had believed that he would never again experience anything as painful as the day that his family was murdered; but this was so much worse. Saiya was gone. He had come all of this way to save her and he had failed.

She was gone, and with her his hopes of a better future, his light, his laughter, his place of peace. All gone, wiped out in a single instant. He knelt there, broken and defeated, and prayed that the same fate that had taken her would also strike him down. And all the while, deep in his soul, something dark and ugly raged and clawed itself apart, hungering to escape. It frightened him. He had never unleashed his full power, had never submitted completely to his hatred, but now there was nothing stopping him save his inability to care. What did it matter now, if Azmodan died? Saiya would not return to him. His grief and his fury were as impotent as rain falling in the ocean.

There was someone crouching in front of him, shouting at him. The words were foreign and incomprehensible. Why should he answer? There was nothing to say.

But then came a sharp blow to his cheek, stinging even through his torpor. A face came into focus. Grey eyes. Caesar.

"What?" he said thickly. "What do you want?"

"Wake up, asshole!" the wizard snapped. "She's not dead!"

Abruptly, Baal realized that Caesar was carrying Saiya in his arms. He had wrapped her in his coat, and her head lay against his shoulder. Her eyes were closed. Baal's hand moved of its own accord, reaching out to stroke her cheek with trembling fingers. She was warm, and as he touched her, she stirred, her lashes fluttering.

"Saiya," he breathed. "Nuur il'-en, can you hear me?"

Her lips parted, and the smallest of noises emerged. It sounded like, "Baal."

Tears blurred his vision. "Yes," he said. "Yes, love, I'm here. I'm right here. Everything's going to be okay now. You're safe."

"I can't tell whether or not she's injured," Caesar murmured. "She looks unharmed, but …"

"Then get her out of here!" Baal exclaimed. "You shouldn't need me to tell you that!"

Caesar shook his head. "I can't. I barely even made it out to the altar and back. I'm afraid that if I try to warp again, I'll miss my destination."

Baal raked a hand through his hair – no easy feat with how tangled it had become. He knew it was mostly his fault for having asked too much of the wizard on their journey here, but that didn't make it any less frustrating. Glancing over Caesar's shoulder, he gauged the battle in a quick glance. Currently, Freja was holding her own against the demon lord, expertly dodging his attacks and countering with blows of her own, but even she could not last forever against such a mighty opponent. Ghor appeared to be in the midst of a summoning ritual, which, if she was given the chance to complete it, might well turn the tide in their favor.

"Alright," he said. "Alright, new plan. I'm going to fight. You just stay with Saiya and … look out for her, please."

"I will," Caesar promised.

Baal stood and started towards the other side of the arena, then stopped and stared back at them. "I'm trusting you," he said.

Caesar inclined his head in acknowledgement of the weight which had been placed on him. He said, "I would give my life to protect her."

Baal felt something twist in his gut as he turned away. At first he attributed it to his extreme relief and gratitude that Saiya was still alive. But it was not a pleasant feeling – far from it, in fact – and he soon identified it as resentment: that Caesar, and not he, had been the one to pick Saiya up, to feel the pulse of life within her veins. And now, when he wanted to hold her the most, it was Caesar's arms cradling her. If she woke, it would be Caesar's face she would see.

The words that Cydaea had thrown at him ran through his mind once again: "What about Baal? He's not here, is he? You are. He doesn't want me. You do. And I want you, Caesar. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to realize it."

A shout jerked him back to reality. There was a red-hot orb of pulsating magic heading his way, conjured no doubt by Azmodan. He dodged to the side, but the blast radius was larger than he had been expecting, and he had to jump back yet again.

Freja was flagging, he could tell. There were numerous superficial cuts and burns all over her body, while none of her attacks had inflicted any real harm. The problem, Baal thought, was that she was fighting Azmodan from the ground, where the only target available to her was his crab-like, armored legs. The demon lord's only weak spots – his mouth and the pits of his arms, where the flesh was soft – were above her reach, and well-guarded.

Baal checked his quiver. Of the eleven arrows that remained in it, only one was explosive. He fitted that bolt into Qarasahin and knelt, taking careful aim. When Azmodan raised his arms to cast another spell, the Hunter let fly. It was a good shot, dead on target, and it did substantial damage. When the smoke had cleared, Azmodan's right arm hung uselessly by his side, the shoulder joint partially separated. Fiery blood ran down from the wound and dripped to the floor, hissing where it hit the stone.

As Baal stood, Azmodan turned to face him, eyes narrowed. "Impudent boy," he spat. "Have you no respect for your betters?"

Baal, expecting retaliation, was prepared to dodge, but none came. Azmodan just sat and stared at him as though trying to simply wish him dead. Freja came sprinting in from the side to hack at his legs, but he ignored her.

"Baal!" squawked Gawahir, fluttering desperately around his master's head. "Baal! Run!"

Suddenly he remembered the warnings which had been scrawled in a shaking hand on old parchment in the library of his order. Do not under any circumstances allow him to look upon you for too long. His gaze will devour you heart and soul, and leave only smoldering remains.

"I'm an idiot," he muttered, trying to move. It was strangely difficult. His body was numb, refusing to respond to his brain's insistence that it shift itself. A cold sweat stood out on his forehead, and his heartbeat felt sluggish.

In a flash of black feathers, Gawahir was between him and the terrible, penetrating eyes, wings outstretched, screaming bold defiance at the Lord of Sin. He hung for a second in the air … and then fell. Baal caught the raven before he could hit the ground, holding the limp form to his chest. Gawahir's sacrifice had not been in vain; he could move again, and move he did, sprinting to the edge of the room, where he laid his little friend gently down on a broken pillar.

"Leyaqetli qus," he whispered. "Siz sahin olmali idi."

A great portal was opening in the floor. Baal cursed, his already rock-bottom morale dropping even further at the thought of facing some new threat. But it was not one of Azmodan's minions who emerged, but the giant toad Churamungu, answering Ghor's call. The demon lord actually recoiled in surprise upon seeing it, and hope flared once again in Baal's heart.

"What is this?" demanded Azmodan. "Crows, frogs … am I doing battle with Nephalem, or woodland animals?"

Churamungu squatted, completely motionless apart from his bulging, blinking eyes, in the middle of the room. Baal was just beginning to think that the god was refusing to fight when he leaped with startling power, barreling into Azmodan hard enough to knock him over. The two titans struggled for dominance, rolling back and forth. Freja scrambled out of their way to avoid being crushed.

After a few moments, Churamungu managed to gain his enemy's back, clinging with the horned pads on his feet. His barbed tongue shot out and snaked around Azmodan's neck like a noose. Azmodan flailed around, but he could not dislodge the toad. His face began to turn purple, blood running down his chest in rivulets from the gashes in his throat.

Baal turned away, his need to see Saiya overriding his desire to watch the demon lord die. But he had taken only two steps when Ghor cried out in despair. Azmodan had reached behind him, taken hold of Churamungu's tongue, and ripped it from the toad's mouth. Churamungu released him and hopped backwards, his yellow eyes wider than ever.

"Nisamehe!" Ghor wailed. "Sikuwa na maana kwa ajili yenu kufa!"

Churamungu stood his ground when Azmodan attacked, but the battle was already lost. Without his most dangerous weapon, the god was helpless against the superior physical capabilities of his foe. Azmodan tore him to pieces. When it was over, the battered body disintegrated into fine particles of sand.

"Well?" Azmodan said, a gravel note in his voice from the strangulation. "Is that how you defeated my brother Belial? Pathetic. This is getting dull. I was hoping for a challenge, but it seems that I am to be disappointed."

He spoke a single word in Incaentic, and black liquid began to seep from the stone at the edges of the chamber, forming a ring with the Lord of Sin at the center. Caesar, cut off from the door, was forced to move closer with the unconscious monk in his arms.

Baal understood Azmodan's scheme at once; he was trying to pen them like sheep so that he could slaughter them with minimal effort. They could hold him off for a little while, but eventually they would simply run out of room. The longer they waited, the worse their situation would become. Decisive action was needed … but what?

While he was racking his brains, Freja gathered her strength and jumped. It was an impressive spring, carrying her far higher than any normal human could manage. She landed on Azmodan's back and plunged her greatsword into his flesh, driving it all the way to the hilt.

Azmodan wobbled, and for a joyous second it seemed that his legs would give out underneath him. But instead he spun, his momentum flinging Freja hard against the wall. She dropped to the ground, stunned, mere inches away from the corrupt water. Ghor grabbed her hands and dragged her to a safer distance, her face twisted with the pain of walking.

Azmodan laughed then, the bloody froth bubbling from his mouth making the sound even more horrifying. Freja's sword was still embedded in his back, his right arm was useless and the skin at his neck hung in ribbons, but somehow he seemed stronger and more indestructible than when they had arrived. It was, Baal thought, as though the damage they had inflicted upon him had invigorated the demon lord rather than weakening him.

In desperation, he aimed Thaqib and fired every bolt in the clip at Azmodan's face. An arrow pierced one of the burning eyes, and several more bit deeply into the already wounded throat, but most were swallowed up by the fire in his mouth and burned to ash. Baal's arms dropped to his sides. His quivers were empty. There was nothing more he could do.

"Caesar!" he roared, his voice echoing around the temple. "Take Saiya and go! Warp her away from this place! It doesn't matter where you end up. Get as far away as you can. We're finished here. When she comes to, tell her I'm sorry, and that my love for her is the only thing that made my life worth living."

Without looking to see if the wizard was doing as he asked, Baal strode forward until he was standing directly before Azmodan. He looked up, meeting the Great Evil's remaining eye.

"The victory is yours," he said, "but know this: as long as humanity exists, we will defy you. You can destroy our bodies, you can lay waste to our cities, but you cannot break our spirits."

Azmodan grinned, leaning down until his enormous face blotted out the whole of Baal's vision. "Oh, can't I?" he rumbled. "Tell me, demon hunter, do you know why Baalzibal came to your village? Do you know why your family died?"

An icy pall covered Baal's heart. "It was a random attack," he stammered. "Th-there was no reason!"

"Wrong." Azmodan's voice was triumphant. "They came because of you. You see, a rumor reached Tor'Baalos that a Nephalem child had been born in the town of Holy Rock, and no one hates the Nephalem more than he. He has sworn to wipe out every single one of you abominations. And so … he dispatched his son to deal with the problem."

"No," Baal groaned. "No no no! You're lying!"

"I must say," Azmodan continued, mercilessly, "the name you chose to take is really quite fitting. In a way, it was you who killed your family. If you had never entered this world, they would still be alive."

Baal felt as though the ground had vanished beneath his feet and he was falling into a grey mist. Flashes of sight and sound haunted him. His mother's voice distorted as she called him inside for dinner. A flower dropped from the hand of a tiny girl, trampled in the dust. Screams and crying and the rush of flames devouring dry wood. The splash of bodies landing in a well, gasping, holding his head above water, Shadi's last words: Father loved us both.

The mist cleared, and Baalzibal was standing in front of him, holding Saif's head in his clawed hands. He held it up, saying, "Do you see this worthless human? I asked him where you were and he wouldn't tell me, so he died."

Baal's hand clenched down so hard on Thaqib's handle that he could hear the wood cracking. A wave of loathing swept through him, more intense than any emotion he had felt in his life. He wanted to maim and kill the monster before him … no, to obliterate him, to leave no trace that he ever walked the earth. He raised his crossbow, not caring that it was empty, and pulled the trigger. But the mechanism was still firing, shadowy arrows flying forth in a stream that seemed to be directed by his will rather than his hand. And they were hurting the demon; made of air and hatred, they ignored armor and ripped through flesh, dissolving in the wounds. Under the relentless barrage, Baalzibal – his most despised enemy – crumpled to the ground.

Baal stopped firing. He was exultant, full of savage joy. The dead could sleep in peace now, for he had avenged them.

But the tattered form before him slowly mutated into something much larger, the stomach expanding, two legs fragmenting into six. It was a shape he recognized from a dream of the distant past … or was it the future?

"We were wrong," rasped the dying thing at his feet. "You are no Nephalem. You are … more demon … than we."

He put the tip of his crossbow to its head, pressing hard. Baalzibal or no, this filth must be exterminated. It was his purpose. But it continued to speak, and he paused, strangely compelled to listen.

"This war doesn't end with my death, boy. You think you have won, but you are sadly mistaken. I was the last piece … and now he will come."

"I'll kill him too, then," the Hunter snarled. The demon laughed, and choked on its laughter. The sound irritated him. He said, "What's so funny?"

"He thought he was so clever, imitating the angels, planting a seed in the world of mortals. But he isn't the only one who had that idea. When our seeds have sprouted and taken root, we'll see whose is strongest: his … or mine."

Baal had no idea what the demon was talking about, but he was getting tired of its pointless blather. He suspected it was trying to buy time, so he gave it no warning that its life was about to end. Its single, fiery eye went dark as the bolt passed through its skull. He stood still, panting with exertion. It was done.

Or perhaps not; there were footsteps behind him, the sound of breathing, a hand reaching out to touch his shoulder. His instincts kicked in and he spun and shot before he could stop himself.

But the face before him, eyes wide in shock, was Caesar's.

For a moment, nobody moved. Baal's vision throbbed, the blood rushing in his ears. Thaqib dropped from his nerveless fingers and clattered on the stone floor. He drew in a shaky breath.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm so-"

The wizard dropped to his knees and slumped onto his side, where he lay still, his legs bent underneath him and one arm outstretched. Baal, frozen in horror at what he'd done, barely registered the scream that hit his ears as Saiya's. She had run forward and was kneeling by Caesar, shaking him and urgently calling his name. Ghor was coming over as well, saying, "Move aside, child, let me look at him."

I couldn't, Baal thought frantically. I couldn't have killed him. He's faking it. Any moment now he's going to jump up and say it was all a big joke. It isn't real. I couldn't have killed him!

But Caesar wasn't moving. Suddenly, he felt an overwhelming need to get away, and he ran blindly for the door, heedless of Saiya's pleas that he wait. As soon as he'd made it out of the temple, he bent double and vomited. The bile made his throat and eyes burn. He sat for a moment, hunched over, his hands balled into fists, letting the knowledge of his guilt ring through his mind like the toll of a funeral bell. Goaded by Azmodan, he had finally succumbed to the evil which coiled in his heart, and under its destructive influence, he had murdered his friend.

You wanted to, whispered Vera's voice in his mind. You knew it was him standing behind you and you took your chance. You've wanted to kill him ever since he took Saiya away from you, admit it.

"No," he mumbled. "I forgave him."

No, you didn't. You may have thought you did, you may have convinced yourself, but your resentment was still there, gnawing away at your guts: 'how could they do that to me?' And now the bastard is dead and she's all yours again, aren't you happy, Baal?

"Go away!" he sobbed, clenching his teeth until he thought they would shatter. "I hate you, go away!"

"Well, that's nice," someone replied behind him. Gasping, he whipped around. Saiya was standing there with her arms crossed, looking annoyed. At the sight of her, his last spark of energy drifted away, leaving him hollow and dry.

"I know what you're going to say, Saiya," he sighed, "but it isn't true. It was me who fired that bolt. There's no getting around it. I wasn't out of control, or anything like that. It wasn't some demon or spirit possessing my body that made me do it. It was me, it was my choice."

To his mild surprise, she nodded. Somehow, her agreement made him feel worse. He had expected her to argue for his innocence, but apparently she blamed him too. Well, it was only what he deserved.

"Yes," she said. "It was you, Baal. And that's why Caesar is still alive."

His gaze flew up to meet hers. "What? How? I shot him in the heart, I know I did! I saw the arrow pass through him! How can he be alive?"

"Don't know," she replied, shrugging. "If I had to guess, I'd say that when you're in that … uh … state, the lethality of your arrows is determined by how much you despise the person that you're aiming at. In other words, it's your intention that kills, not your weapon. You fired at Caesar on reflex, but you didn't really want him to die … so he didn't. He's fine, by the way, though he says that you owe him a stiff drink and an abject apology."

Baal's head was spinning, and he wondered vaguely if he was going to pass out. Saiya evidently did too, if her expression was anything to go by. But as she took a step towards him, he noticed her bare feet and conspicuous lack of clothes (aside from the wizard's coat, which she still wore), and his wits came surging back to him.

"Forget about Caesar," he growled. "Are you okay? Did they … did they hurt you?"

She glanced away, biting her lip. "I don't really remember, to be honest. After I was carried away by that giant bird, I fainted and woke up stranded on a ledge on the mountainside. Gawahir showed up, and- oh!"

"What?" he demanded, worried.

"Gawahir! He's okay! Well, he's not really – he's pretty weak right now and Ghor says it'll be a while before he's able to fly again, but at least he's still with us. I thought you'd want to know."

"Thanks," Baal said. He knew that he'd rejoice later, but at present the only emotion he was capable of was a dull relief. Another life miraculously spared, another death removed from his conscience.

"Anyway," Saiya continued, "after he left, I waited for ages until you and Caesar appeared out of nowhere and took me away. Or at least, I thought it was you and Caesar. It was actually two incubi. They wanted … well, never mind. But Azmodan made them stop, and ordered them to bring me before him. He said something about 'planting a seed of his own', which I didn't understand, and then he touched my stomach with one of his claws. Just a touch, nothing else, and it didn't even break the skin, but it was so painful that I couldn't keep upright. I can't remember anything else. I must have lost consciousness again. The next time I opened my eyes, you were there, fighting with Azmodan, and Caesar was trying to teleport me away. He said that you'd asked him to, but I wouldn't let him. So here we are."

"And your clothes?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Saiya blushed. "That was the incubi's doing. As far as I know, Azmodan didn't do anything to me after that first touch."

Baal frowned. The very harmlessness of it was unsettling. He said, "Has Ghor examined you yet?"

"No," Saiya admitted. "She wanted to, but I had to find you first. I didn't want you to do something rash."

"Like throw myself into the lava?" He had meant it humorously, but she didn't smile.

"Like that, yes."

"I'm afraid that the thought never crossed my mind. If I was going to commit suicide, I think I would have done it a long time ago. Though I won't deny I felt pretty wretched."

He stood up carefully, testing his balance. Now that the adrenaline rush had passed, he was weak and dizzy and above all exhausted both physically and mentally. But he couldn't relax yet; they were still deep in hostile territory. Just because Azmodan was dead didn't mean that another enterprising demon wouldn't happen upon them and try to finish the job.

He looked at Saiya. She looked back, and then they were in each other's arms, clinging together and kissing as if the world was about to end. Baal held her face in his hands – her sweet, beautiful face that he'd thought he would never see again – and trembled at how close he had come to losing her.

"Never do this to me again," he whispered. "When I thought you were dead, my heart cracked right in two."

She was crying, tears running freely down her cheeks. "I knew you'd come for me," she said, "I knew it, but even so … I was so scared. When they brought me in front of him, all I could think was, 'Please let me live! I have to see Baal again!'"

"It's all over now, love," he said, putting an arm around her shoulder: partially to comfort her and partially because he wasn't sure he had the strength to stay on his feet without help. But as he said it, he recalled the last words Azmodan had spoken.

"This war doesn't end with my death, boy. You think you have won, but you are sadly mistaken. I was the last piece … and now he will come."

Who was this mysterious adversary whose appearance the Lord of Sin had foretold? Another of the Great Evils? Baal could think of very few who could possibly be worse than Azmodan himself. Tor'Baalos was vanquished, presumed dead. Mephisto had been imprisoned by the Horadrim.

That left only Diablo.

"What are you thinking about?" Saiya asked.

"Uh, nothing. Shall we get back to the others?"

He had to lean on her more than he would have liked as they made their way up the temple steps. Ghor and Freja were grouped around the prone form of the wizard, and glanced up at they approached.

"He is going to be alright," Ghor announced.

"Oh, thank the gods!" exclaimed Saiya. Baal gave her an incredulous look.

"I thought you knew that already."

"Well …" she hedged.

"You lied to me? About that? What the hell would you have said if he wasn't okay?"

"I knew he would be," she said, and her eyes gleamed with conviction.

"How?"

"Because I know you, Baal, better than you think I do. You wouldn't kill your friend, no matter how angry you were. And look! I was right!"

"Ugh. Smartass." He let go of her and took a few stumbling steps forward until he was standing next to Freja at Caesar's feet. The wizard's eyes were open, though he appeared to be rather dazed.

"Hey," Baal said. "How do you feel?"

"Surprisingly, not too bad," Caesar mumbled. "Very tired, though."

The Hunter nodded. "I'm, uh … I'm really sorry that I shot you."

"S'okay, it happens. Tell you what, you buy drinks for the next month, and I'll call us even."

Baal gave Saiya a suspicious glare, but she only shrugged and mouthed, "Told you."

"Fair enough," he said. "How are you holding up, Freja?"

"I am fine," said the Barbarian, stoically. "I have thick bones."

"You were amazing. All of you were. I can't believe that we actually managed to do it without losing anyone."

"I wish I could have taken part," Saiya said. "I would have liked to show that asshole what I think of him."

"What now?" Ghor asked. "We cannot stay here."

"If we could get a message back to the Keep, we could call for help," Caesar suggested. "Perhaps your bird could carry one, Baal?"

Gawahir, who was sitting meekly on Ghor's shoulder, dropped his head to his chest and closed his eyes.

"I don't think he's up to it," Baal said. "Ghor, you have flying things among your summons, don't you? One of them could carry a message. Or are you out of mana after calling on the toad?"

Caesar frowned up at his friend. "How did you manage to do that, anyway?"

"I was hoping you would not ask," Ghor sighed. "In dire circumstances, there is an alternative sacrifice that can be made, should a sangoma have the will to carry it out. I did not have enough mana to satisfy Churamungu, so I offered him my life instead, if he should be victorious."

The wizard reached up and grasped her hand, whispering, "I'm glad he wasn't, then."

At that moment, a portal opened in the air and Tyrael emerged from it, with Adria and Leah behind him, carrying the Black Soulstone. The witch ignored them and went at once to Azmodan's corpse, motioning impatiently for her daughter to join her.

Tyrael said, "My friends, I am glad to see you all alive and well. I feared the worst. Why did you not tell me of your plans? I would have aided you."

"We were in a hurry," Baal replied, "and couldn't take the time to find you. Does the Keep still stand?"

"It does. Most of Azmodan's army has fled back to the Burning Hells. Captain Haile had taken charge and is organizing squads to exterminate the remaining demons."

"And Lyndon? Did he make it?"

Tyrael smiled. "He did … and he returned with another. A lone Templar survived the massacre."

"Kormac!" Saiya cried. "Is he really alive? Ytar be praised!"

"I am finished," Adria announced. "Azmodan's essence is contained."

"Good," said Baal. "Let's get the fuck out of here. I'm sick of this place."

Caesar made no complaint as Tyrael helped him to his feet and guided him through the portal, with Ghor following close after. Leah went through next, the Soulstone heavy in her arms. Her face had a strange empty look to it, like a blank sheet of paper, but Baal didn't have the energy to puzzle over it.

"Coming?" he asked Freja. The Barbarian hesitated, looking uncharacteristically shy.

"I am welcome?" she said.

"Anyone who has a problem with you can take it up with me," he answered. Then, grasping Saiya's hand, he stepped into the portal.

* Baal said, "Noble bird, you should have been a hawk."

*Ghor said, "Forgive me! I did not mean for you to die!"