Chapter 37
Auriel saw to the nephalem. Taking them to where they wanted to go. Tyrael watched as his mortal friends left Heaven. Silence drifted in as Itheral to help repair the High Heavens. The former angel stood in the decimated ruins of the Crystal Archway. The joy of the salvation of Heaven didn't last in the face of the daunting reality he now faced. He was human now and until his death. Things like food and drink didn't exist in Heaven, there was no need for it. Even the simple concept of beds were lost on his angelic siblings. Tyrael turned from the great crystal and went back to the Gardens of Hope. There he found Pley and Nicholas talking to each other.
Tyrael approached his angel friends. "Brother. Sister. It's good to see you."
Pley turned to face the mortal angel. "Yes, thanks to the nephalem. We just got word from Imperius's captain. He's placed the Black Soulstone in the vaults."
"..." Nicholas moved ever so slightly in discomfort.
"Brother?" Tyrael asked in concern.
Pley looked out to the still wounded cityscape. "Auriel and Itheral have called for Nicholas to guard the vault. Imperius argued against it."
Tyrael looked puzzled at the larger angel. He was massive compared to the common angel warrior. His armor was forged from the bark of the first tree. It continued to sprout twigs and a few leafs. He barely ever spoke through his centuries guarding the Worldstone. Tyrael was baffled as to why Imperius would fight against having the guard of the source of humanity and Sanctuary guard the Black Soulstone.
"Imperius said that it was Nicholas's fault that demon kind were able to corrupt the stone in the first place." Pley spoke up again. "So why would demons not get their hands on the stone in his care."
A soldier came running up and whispered something to Nicholas. He nodded and pulled his shield and weapon close. "I am to guard the stone." He left without a reply from Pley or Tyrael.
The same soldier spoke to Pley. Tyrael looked over the female angel. She was slender but more built then other angels. Her every movement made her white robes and armor look like she was dancing. Her black silhouetted face was adorned with a glistening white hood. She wielded a large white and gold tower shield and a spear. Pley's wings were blue twisting tendrils that reacted to her mood. They flicked nervously.
Pley turned back to Tyrael. "The council has assigned me to you. Whatever you need until they have come to a decision."
"About what?" Tyrael asked knowing full well that Imperius would be vying for angelic punishment on him.
"Until they agree on what to do with you." Pley's wings sank and darkened with the tone of her voice.
Tyrael nodded and started walking. His feet led him to his former domain, Court of Justice. Where he expected to find comforting memory, he merely found shadows of the angels fallen in battle and haunting cries of those he felt he betrayed. Tyrael could hear their screams in his head as he tried to venture deeper into his realm. It was their demands for his head in payment for their lives that drove him out. He was unable to handle the guilt he felt there. Tyrael asked Pley to find a place for him to rest. Exhaustion tugged at him. Hunger joined the human necessities calls, but Tyrael wasn't sure he could stomach food at the moment. He choose to sleep.
Restless nights were filled with nightmares where he did manage to sleep. Heaven no longer felt like home, it was a strange land that he was seeing for the first time. When he did wake drenched in sweat from the horrors in his head, he sought out comforts of memories in the halls. Even there, he found Heaven to be far more vast than he remembered. He fought back the fears and sadness by walking till his legs ached. He sank to the floor and watched as the blue and white wisp of angels fluttered above. Months had come and gone at a dead crawl for Tyrael. He watched as angels shot past him, unbound by flesh and mortality. More and more the former angel began to miss his simple and unfettered life as an archangel.
It had been just over a year when the Silver City was back to it's full grandeur. Tyrael was pleased to see it as he remembered it. The horrors of his mind hadn't vanished, but crept around every corner and tucked away beneath every archway. He struggled to learn how to deal with the daily assault from his mortal perspective. Being mortal had a vicious and ruthless way about tearing at it's own mind. Tyrael took a place on a balcony to watch the Lightsong commence. He remembered the times as an archangel that he had joined in that divine symphony. As a mortal he was forced to watch. Angel's spirits rushed forth in their light forms, singing and dancing among each other. In these rare moments of perfect harmony and joy, new angels were born. Seeing the rite brought tears to Tyrael's eyes. Joy for his brothers. Sadness for himself. In the year he had wandered the halls of Silver City, he never felt more alone than he did sitting and watching that scared ritual.
Tyrael left, the ceremony would last all day and his heart couldn't take it. He returned to his walks through the Silver Spire and Great Span. As he let his mind drift, he found it drifting in memories of Leah. Seeing her sweet smile and bright eyes as she traveled with them. Her memory led him to thoughts of the nephalem he had met. The sons and daughters of great warriors he also called friends. Thinking of Kasler's ever observant eyes and strong will that drove the party on. The sounds of Laufey and Dante laughing with each other as they gambled and drank. The sharp and self assured wit of Modius as he squabbled with Laufey. The overwhelming presence of Core, her trickster brute of a brother, Thane. Of course dark memories, lurked among his friends. Having known Cassius while he was on the true path of the crusader, and see that he had fallen into madness. Having watched from Heaven, as Diablo ripped Kirin's heart out. Breaking Felix before he met Tyrael. Cain's death at the hands of Maghda.
Tyrael clutched as his chest as he fell to the empty realm's floor. He held back sobs as he wished the pain away. It didn't leave. It lingered and bite at him. It was there, buried in the pain that he found resolution. He starred at the floor as he recalled Dante and others scolding him. Chastising him for succumbing to fear and heartache. They bore the same pains, and yet they hitched up their boots and marched onward. Tyrael felt the pain begin to recede, allowing him to stand. He stood straight and nodded once to himself. Cowardice would drown the mortal angel. If he allowed it. Tyrael felt strength rush in as he made his choice. He was going to march on.
Over the coming months Tyrael made choices to see life through a different perspective. When he visited the Halls of Valor, instead of pining for the things he missed as an angel, he watched in awe as they spared. Appreciating and studying their movements. The Gardens of Hope he no longer empowered his memories of the corruption that ransacked it, but relished the calming air and tranquil sounds that he never heard as an angel. Tyrael realized suddenly as he gazed at the architecture of the Silver City, that he was finally able to see the world as humans did.
Not everything the mortal angel noticed was roses and joy, he began to see something darker working its way through the city. The vibrant blue of Heaven began to darken. The gold showed the faintest signs of tarnish and the white stones of the High Heavens were shadowed. In the following days Tyrael stood on balcony listening to the constant angelic choir that took the place of wind. He struggled to hear it, as if the dark presence tried to hide itself from him. There. Tyrael's face slacked in confusion. There again. His eyes widened. There still. Tyrael rushed toward the vaults. It was discordant noise in what should have been the flawless songs of angels. Tyrael's thoughts raced as his legs pushed him faster. Something was tainting the angels without any of them noticing.
He was out of breath by the time he had reached the angelic treasure room. Nicholas's had resumed his silent vigil by the vault doors. The angel was more like a great ancient tree when he was motionless. Two piercing slits opened in place of eyes when Tyrael arrived.
"..." Tyrael heaved several breaths before he was able to speak. "The soulstone. I must see it."
Nicholas said nothing for a long moment as he considered his friend. After a long moment, the ancient guard stepped aside and nodded. Nicholas and Tyrael entered the vault. The chamber was massive, not a wall in sight as they moved deeper. Finally Nicholas led Tyrael down a path to a floating platform bathed in the High Heaven's light. A mural spanned across the darkness behind the platform. As if the artist had painted it directly on the darkness surrounding the platform. Tyrael stared at the painting a moment. A tribute to the angels that had fought and fallen in the Eternal Conflict. The demons they had slain and the victorious celebrating. Even the more recent events had been recorded there. To Tyrael's distaste, there was no image to depict the mortal warriors that accomplished those grand feats. Nicholas tightened his grasp on his shield as Tyrael gazed upon the Black Soulstone. It's shape and size hadn't changed since he first beheld it in Caldeum. Though now, the stone was dim and smokeless. It spun slowly of it's own will and the red demonic light from within was greatly diminished. The voices hissing and whispering no longer could be heard. Tyrael could see that the stone was compliant with its current situation. As the mortal angel watched the stone spin in place, the feeling that something was off remained in his mind. Tyrael felt no better about the Black Soulstone. For the first time since light broke over the High Heavens, the archangels held all of the demon Lords imprisoned. Tyrael left the vaults with Nicholas. He felt worse about the stone than he had when he walked in. He dismissed the notion with the explanation that it was his mortal mind trying to comprehend new emotions.
Tyrael was summoned to another Angiris Council meeting. He had taken the mantle of Wisdom, the former post of Malthael's domain. With his absence, Tyrael felt that a mortal eye in the realm of wisdom was best for bridging the rift of man and angels.
The former angel was pulled from his thoughts by Imperius's booming voice. "Enough! The Burning Hells are weak and without their leaders. We should attack while we have this chance."
"Imperius, please, we are trying to decide the fate of the soulstone in our possession." Auriel tired to calm Imperius.
"Shatter it." Imperius spat out. "Those wretched humans created it. It's a sin that rock even exist."
Tyrael stood suddenly, gaining the attention of the other three archangels. "You can't! The fact it was forged by humanity and not our kin means we don't know what will happen if we destroy it."
"Tyrael..." Auriel paused, her voice was timid and cautious. "You're lack of experience as a mortal doesn't exactly embolden me to your knowledge."
"..." Tyrael was abashed by his once fellow archangel. He sat back silently.
Auriel turned away and back to Imperius. "We should imprison the stone. A chamber of holy light and sound to encase it all of time."
Imperius shot down her idea with examples of the nephalem's entry into the High Heavens. Going so far as to glare at Tyrael when he brought up the shattering of the Worldstone. Tyrael felt the sting of the implied accusation. The archangel of valor wasn't wrong, it had been Tyrael himself that destroyed the Worldstone. Imperius refused to acknowledge that it had been corrupted and beyond angelic repair. Itherael continued to linger in silence as he tried to make a decision. He wasn't able to, the unwritten fate of humanity stayed his opinion. Tyrael had had enough of the endless bickering. He left to review his thoughts regarding the Black Soulstone. It wasn't like the Angiris Council to be so stubbornly divided. As Tyrael thought back to the several meetings he had attended, he began to notice how each meeting grew more and more heated. Angels were assigned and rotated out to guard the Black Soulstone at it's platform. Those that had been relieved, suffered from harrowing mental images and thoughts both dark and foreign to the heavenly beings. Some had even turned aggressive when their relief came. Tyrael considered that the darkness of the seven demons trapped within the stone were emitting their magic from within. Not corruption in the literal sense, but a haze that crept over the angels involved.
"Imperius! I am telling you the soulstone is effecting all of the High Heavens." Tyrael pleaded with the archangel of valor to listen.
Imeperius jutted his spear tip at Tyrael. "You are just a mortal and cower down from things you don't understand!" The angel hissed. "You and your ilk brought this abomination into creation. It's your fault Diablo wrought his evil here."
"Fool. You're shame and anger are blinding you to the truth!" Tyrael uncharacteristically snapped back.
"Am I blind?!" The angel took Tyrael's throat into his armored grasp. "You who took Malthael's post, and you can't even face Chalad'ar!" At the touch of Auriel to his arm, Imperius dropped the gagging and coughing Tyrael.
Chalad'ar, the Chalice of Wisdom. Malthael's source of power and sight. Tyrael rubbed his throat and stood facing Imperius. "Brother. I know the pain you feel for our fallen comrades. The sting of watching a mortal succeed where the angels failed.."
"We did not fail!" Imperius screamed at the former angel. Auriel and Itherael lunged forward to restrain Imperius from attacking Tyrael.
The mortal angel stepped back in surprise. He knew now that he had no choice. In order to heal the rifts forming between the archangels, he was going to have to visit Chalad'ar in the Pools of Wisdom. Tyrael left in a hurry and made his way to Malthael's former home. Ever since the archangel of Wisdom had left, the Angiris Council was in a constant quiet mourning. Tyrael's predecessor's realm was once a place of soothing radiance. Last Tyrael had heard, it had become cold and desolate. Mortal emotions clouded Tyrael's mind and he needed the clarity and sharp truth that Malthael always had. With the council at an impasse, Tyrael knew the chalice would give him the answer. He wondered though if he would survive the angelic treasure.