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Also, how funny is it that this fanfic's been going on for so damn long that Lyndon and the other Followers got a full rework in Diablo 3?
Chapter 59
The two heads rolled across the stone bridge, and Tyrael violently winced. He tried to retreat, but his wings were already brushing against the cold damp walls, giving him a sharp sense of claustrophobia. With some difficulty he wrestled it down and drew back until his armored feet was dangling over the bottomless pit and he was hovering next to the Black Soulstone's altar. Malthael slowly and unstoppably swept across the bridge, tearing out the souls of the Horadrim, including Lorath Nahr. Tyrael could do nothing except watch helplessly, his every effort to act was snuffed out by an unseen force. Nobody seemed to bother with him, the Horadrim did not call for his help, Malthael did not even tilt his hood towards him, his focus was purely on the Soulstone.
Gliding over the now white and withered corpses, the Angel of Death neared the altar, his back partially turned to Tyrael.
- Brother, stop it! – the archangel of Justice called out. – You will only bring the destruction of yourself and your people with it!
Malthael did not bother with a response, he cut the arms out from under the cursed Stone, one gauntleted hand already reaching for it.
- You will be responsible for the death of millions! Mortals and your own kin! Think this through, brother, please! – Tyrael tried one more time.
Malthael froze, his claws a hair's length away from his prize. Finally, he turned around slowly, his every twitch permeated by cold indifference. The bottomless hood stared at Tyrael, the lack of angelic harmony made it impossible for Justice to even try to guess what was going on in that darkness.
- Like how you have done? – the deep voice cut through the heavy silence.
And with that, Malthael turned back and claimed the Black Soulstone. The chamber shook, cracks appeared across the walls and ceiling, fragments of rock and earth fell away and through the holes a horrible storm's icy wind and rain were beginning to seep in. Tyrael still could not make himself move, Malthael's simple question froze him to his core.
Malthael lifted the Stone and turned back to Tyrael, behind him churning foamy waves broke into the chamber through the growing cracks. A stormy lightning-filled sky glimpsed through the openings, and in the distance a battered ship struggled to stay afloat.
- To the deaths of millions – Malthael raised the Stone as if for a toast, his voice ringing clearly over the crashing chamber and the raging storm. – Brother.
Tyrael opened his eyes.
Sunlight greeted him. A warm breeze ran circles in the room through the open window. He was staring at an unassuming but peaceful wooden board ceiling. His fingers curled around a thin blanket tightly and rigidly, the textile was the sole obstacle that stopped his nails from sinking into his own flesh and drawing blood. The nightmare disappeared faster than a puff of smoke in the wind, yet he felt like the ice cold stormy waves were still washing over him. The last picture of Malthael standing before ruination, inviting Tyrael along had burnt itself permanently into his mind.
With some titanic effort Tyrael forced his hands to open and his muscles to unclench. Blood flow returned to his fingers, his knuckles screamed from the sudden release. He realized he was heaving and did his best to rein in his breathing as the next step. His sight slowly cleared up as he blinked the tears away.
He was in some kind of room, his bed surrounded by a proper army of lit candles, incense sticks and bowls with all colors of strange liquid. That explained why the air seemed so heavy despite the breeze. The nightstand and the floor were scribbled with symbols and runes. Once he regained some semblance of control, Tyrael tried to sit up but a sharp pain stabbed into his skull, making him grunt and screw his eyes shut. The door to the room opened with a creak, further increasing his headache.
- I thought I h—Tyrael!
Tyrael forced his eyes open. Eirena rushed to him, babbling about something so rapidly his sluggish and suffering brain could not make sense of it. Behind her an unknown woman stood in long garbs, a Zakarum cross hanging from her neck.
- Did it work? Are you feeling well? Sister Maria and I did our best to rid you of the daemonic influence but it looked like we could lose you at any second, you had such a high fever I was fearing—
- Eirena… shut up, please – Tyrael croaked, his hammering brain begging for mercy.
- Sorry, sorry! – the enchantress hurried, flustered.
- He clearly needs more rest – the healer, Maria chimed in from the background. – Let us change the incense and leave him be.
- Ugh, no more incense, please – the mortal angel flailed helplessly in protest, doing his best to form coherent sentences. – Makes my head hurt.
Eirena grimaced but the two women obliged and cleared up the improvised shrine around him. Tyrael gritted his teeth but withstood the pain stabbing through his head because of the shuffling and packing and clinking. Eventually, he was left alone with the fresh breeze in his room… and his increasingly clearer dark thoughts. He felt as if rocks were pulling down his painfully rumbling stomach, but just the idea of food made him nauseous.
I am not Justice. I am not Wisdom.
These crushing thoughts rang true in his ears, and he had no defense against them. His failings were monumental, and he hadn't even had the courtesy to die alongside the men whom he had dragged to their doom. Perhaps the Angiris Council were right in their effort to push him out of their ranks – Anu knew what horrible damage Tyrael could cause in his former home. Even the Black Soulstone Heist, which had been devised to try and save the Heavens, had come at the cost of angelic lives. His team had every right to defend themselves, it was Tyrael's fault for even forcing them into that situation in the first place. Like in the case of Malthael, his mind struggled to unearth some positive memories, however this time it came up empty. He had lost track of Leah in the sewers which led to her capture by Belial. He had not second-guessed Adria and her sudden reappearance. Even his fall had caused an uprising of the undead and the deaths of dozens in New Tristram.
Everything he had done in his new life had resulted in tragedy, and there was no one else to blame, but himself.
- I'm sorry… I'm so sorry – he whispered with a broken voice.
He wanted to cry but he simply did not have the energy. He knew apologizing would achieve precisely nothing, but he couldn't help the words tumbling out of his mouth.
"To the deaths of millions, brother."
Had Malthael seen all of his failings clearly? Had he spared Tyrael in Corvus because he knew the mortal angel was dragging humans to their deaths? Malthael was nothing if not ruthless and blunt in his neverending quest to seek useful assets, afterall.
Tyrael's exhausted mind was darkening again thankfully, snuffing out most of these thoughts, if not the feelings that came with them. He allowed himself to slip away again, keeping his hold only on a single idea a moment longer.
He had to get back to Westmarch, and seek help. Or throw himself off of a cliff.
Whichever came first.
oooOOOooo
Tyrael woke up as the sun descended in the sky. This time his body was more cooperative and he could claw his way out of bed. Sister Maria insisted he rested one more day at least, but he would hear none of it. He needed to get out of here, as fast and as far away as possible. He did not know if he was running from Inarius, from the Twin Seas or from himself, but he had given up on trying to find logic in the situation.
- Is it really wise? – Eirena tried to persuade him as well.
- I do not want to stay here. I am going to Gea Kul – Tyrael retorted, annoyed.
- Alright, but… mmmaybe you should go to a different port? I mean, I think Bau Toru is closer—
- Ships do not leave for Westmarch from there.
Eirena looked like she wanted to argue more, but Tyrael was already marching out the door.
- A-at least let me go with you! – the enchantress shouted as she hurried after him. – Why are you hissing, even?!
Tyrael promptly clamped his mouth shut at this, realizing he was indeed whistling and hissing in a low voice to express his displeasure and need to rush. He stopped in the corridor and leaned against the wall with a loud huff:
- Eirena…
- Tyrael, you look horrible! I cannot leave you alone! – the young woman argued, standing her ground firmly by his side.
- I—I am grateful for your help, really – Tyrael said, battling to push his inner storm down. – But… but I need to leave. I just have to.
- Yes, and I will escort you to Bau Toru!
- I am going to Gea Kul – the angel pronounced heavily.
- Do you even know where you are? – Eirena glared at him.
-… Partha? – Tyrael guessed after a pause of actual thinking.
- Seram.
- Ah. That's closer.
- So is Bau—
- Eirena! – Tyrael barked at her.
What was her problem?! All Tyrael wanted to do was hit the road in silence and peace and just… go. Go somewhere.
Back to Westmarch, he had to remind himself for a moment.
Eirena finally shrunk back a bit but she quickly straightened out. Only now did Tyrael take a good look at her. She was wearing worn-out dusty muddy traveling cloak and boots, her hair was even more of a mess than usual and she had dark circles under her eye, like someone who hasn't slept in a proper bed for long. Tyrael reckoned he looked pretty similar, maybe even worse.
- S-sorry, I'm just worried! – Eirena stammered.
Tyrael closed his eyes and took a second to breathe and collect his thoughts.
- I… appreciate it, really. I do not know how you have found or why you helped me, but I am thankful.
- I helped you because we are friends, dummy!
Tyrael paused for a second, feeling just a tiny bit of spark stir inside him, under the heavy net of exhaustion and… fear. What it was, he could not tell, but it was in sharp contrast with the grey heavy gloom within him.
- Eirena… if you wish to help me, then help me get to Westmarch as soon as possible, as directly as possible. I need to go, now – he then almost pleaded with her.
-… The road can be dangerous, especially at night – Eirena tried one more time.
- I wish I had the energy to be concerned about that – Tyrael sighed as he continued his march down the hallway.
They exited the house, which turned out to be the home of Sister Maria the town healer, onto the main and only cobblestone street of Seram. As sunset approached, people were returning from their daily work, peacefully milling about. A small hunting party arrived on horseback, bringing in today's haul of pheasants and rabbits. Defeated, Eirena showed him to the stables where she and the keeper prepared her two horses for the journey. In the meantime, she at least had managed to get Tyrael to go and buy provisions for the road, and eat some of it too. Although he had no appetite, his stomach greatly appreciated the bread and fat bacon he swallowed as he returned to the stables. His mind felt empty but always heavy, an oppressing cloud swirling just at the edges. He could not bring himself to give anything much thought or consideration, he just drifted from one random (and often dark) subject to the other like a leaf in the wind.
Despite the keeper's loud protest against traveling at night, soon the horses were ready. Giving his brief thanks and some gold to the man, Tyrael got on his mount and trotted out of the stables without a word, followed closely by Eirena who could not help the constant worried glances she sent his way. A few locals stared after the pair with disapproval, some shaking their heads at the fool-hardy strangers.
For them the day had only gotten more unusual when two hours later, as the light was disappearing beyond the horizon, a herd of deer trotted across the entire town without fear. The buck had an impressive crown of antlers, and on its back rode a small fair-skinned child with golden hair and in tattered Aranochian clothes, asking about one of the strangers from earlier.
oooOOOooo
- Where is Johanna? – Tyrael final blurted out after an hour of riding in silence and staring forward.
His mind was still very much incapable of staying on one subject, however after a while a detail finally surfaced from the storm: that Eirena was still working with Johanna. And that Johanna had almost killed Tyrael and Lyndon before. If his mind hadn't been so numb, it would have been echoing with alarm bells.
Eirena jumped in her saddle a little at the sudden question.
- Wha-what?
- Johanna. Where is she?
- I don't—I don't know.
- She had tried to kill me, and she had slaughtered the Sisterhood of the Sightless Eye for the mirror. I need to know where she is.
Tyrael finally turned to Eirena who looked at him with a mixture of terror and disbelief.
- She didn't! She couldn't! – she gasped after a second of stunned silence.
- She had tried to hunt me and Lyndon down in the Blood Marsh, and I have seen the massacre she had left behind in the Eastgate Keep – Tyrael merely stated, too tired to properly argue.
- She did not slaughter the Sisterhood for the mirror, they gave it to her! – Eirena retorted angrily.
- Were you there with her when she did it?
- I mean—n-no, but she would never lie, she is a Crusader!
- Well I have gone through the Eastgate Keep. Everyone there was dead.
- Perhaps daemons had invaded the place, do you not think?!
Tyrael sighed at this, but Eirena kept going before he could answer:
- And—and what do you mean she attacked you? You know she would never do that! She must have been aiming for… well, Lyndon – her voice fell at the end of the sentence.
Tyrael paused at this.
-… And you are alright with that? – he then asked, glancing back at her.
Eirena ducked her head, trying to disappear in her saddle, she clearly wished she had not said anything.
- I mean—I mean, Lyndon had been with Mephisto for so long! Months now, if not longer – she mumbled. – I feel so bad for him, it is terrible but—but at this point he is more than likely lost.
- That child is not Mephisto, Eirena. And even if he was, are you this willing to give up on your friends?
- No-no, I am not! That is why I am here, you idiot! – Eirena shouted at him, almost falling off of her horse from the momentum. – I have come all this way to try and save you and get you out of—of his influence! Johanna told us how Lyndon had smuggled Mephisto out of his fort when we had been there. Then you got roped into all this as well, but you have spent less time with the Evil! And you are an angel! I am sure you can be helped, your body was fighting off his effects in Seram too!
- And does Lyndon not matter that much?
- I have had to fight and free the souls of my sisters too – the enchantress hissed with teary eyes. – His earthly life may be beyond saving, but I want to free his soul from the shackles of Hatred!
Tyrael pursed his lips. For a second, the kernel of doubt appeared in his soul about Johanna's intentions. However, his numb brain easily recalled his memories about the Eastgate Keep and the Blood Marsh without a shred of uncertainty in them. The fog in Kormac's eyes as he was ready to run Lyndon through with his sword without a second thought. The crater that could have been Tyrael, if not for the scoundrel. The absolute callousness and condescension in Johanna's mocking words as she demanded they handed over Quiet. The marks of battle in the Eastgate Keep only the Crusader's powers could leave behind.
No, Johanna had been corrupted by someone or something, and Eirena was being led astray, Tyrael concluded tiredly. He could not see the same fog in her eyes as he had seen in Kormac's, but perhaps there was no need. Eirena had always been an impressionable young lady full of dreams and good intentions. Her lack of life experience due to the meddling of the Prophet (whatever kind of angel he had been) meant she was easily molded into new shapes. Her plan of founding a sisterhood was her first true striking out into the big wide world, but it was cut short by Johanna and her constant quest as of yet.
The question now was, how to get Eirena out of this fairy tale state. Tyrael's brain felt slightly less heavy and foggy now that he had to connect dots, but he was still far too gone to be able to think efficiently.
- Eirena listen – still, he tried.
- We should leave the road – the enchantress blurted out, scanning her surroundings.
She seemed anxious, fidgeting in her saddle and constantly tilting her head around.
- Why? – Tyrael stopped his horse.
The animal too was snorting and shaking its head, clearly agitated. Something was in the air and it made even Tyrael's dull senses stand on edge.
- I—I think someone's watching us. Yes, that's it – Eirena stammered, trying to get her horse to leave the dirt road.
Rathma? was Tyrael's first thought, but no answer came.
No, the necromancer did not leave such an aura.
- Come on, Tyrael – the enchantress urged him.
- If we leave the open road, we can be ambushed easier – Tyrael summoned El'druin, holding it high to see better by its light.
- Tyrael, we need to—!
Some kind of snare twisted itself around his weapon arm and yanked Tyrael off the saddle. He crashed into the dirt with a shout, his mind finally flaring up from the danger. His horse reared and let out a terrible neigh that echoed across the meadow. A war scythe sailed through the air and stabbed the animal's neck with terrible precision, sending it to the ground in an instant. Tyrael was already up, struggling to free his arm from the pitch black rope. He passed El'druin to his left hand and cut himself free. The next second he had to jump as a magical ice ball flew at him and splashed across the ground, freezing the blades of grass. Tyrael landed and swayed terribly, a quick but powerful spell of dizziness passed over him for a second. He saw shapes seemingly melting out of the darkness, at least a dozen men brandishing weapons. They wore the white robes of holy men, their faces hidden behind golden masks with bone crests.
Recognizing the attackers from Deckard's texts, Tyrael wasted no time and instinctively punched forward, letting a shockwave loose. Some of the men were knocked back, but the dizziness slammed into his skull before he could take advantage of that. A chain lightning struck his left arm for a second. He dropped El'druin, his muscles trapped in painful spasm that barely allowed him to croak from agony. The skin on his arm got burnt and bristled, his leather vambrance smoldering and hot against it. The flat of a giant double-edged axe slammed Tyrael in the chest, sending him to the ground and gasping for air. His body was completely beyond his control, it was all he could do to struggle as the men grabbed and held him down.
Finally, he realized that Eirena had done nothing up to this point, except shout at a red-robed figure who had been casting the elemental magic from beyond the crowd.
- Let him go, damn you all! You were supposed to wait higher up the road! – Eirena shrieked at the mage but made no attempt to even reach for her staff.
Tyrael stared at her through the arms holding him down, his throat seizing up as he tried to call out to her.
- Lady's orders, girl. He is coming with us – the mage answered in a raspy, barely human voice from behind his iron mask.
- The plan was to capture the daemon, not this man!
- She has described a dark-skinned man in Aranoch clothing and with an angelic sword.
- What?!
One of the stronger warriors, a Zakarum zealot dragged Tyrael up from the ground as his spasms grew weaker. The mortal angel was struggling with greater vigor, his mind going blank with the need to survive.
- Eirena! – he finally managed to shout as he kicked the man in the shin and almost tore himself out of his grasp.
Something collided with his temple and he fell forward, losing his bearings for a second.
- Bind him up already! – the Zakarum priest in red barked at his henchmen.
- I said leave him be! – Eirena shouted, finally grabbing her staff but she cast no spells. – I order you! You were supposed to follow my lead!
- Not when the Lady's around – the priest shooed her away. – She'll soon be here, anyway, you can pick your fight with her, if you'd like.
Tyrael kicked the zealot in front of him, he tried to free himself while he heard every word. His mind refused to register anything except for the next opportunity to strike out and escape. One man grabbed and squeezed his burnt arm while trying to bind him, and stars exploded into his vision from the pain.
- Tyrael, calm down, I'll get you out of this, I promise! – he heard someone shout from beyond the crowd.
- This is an absolute madman! – roared one of the zealots holding him down.
The dark ropes were surrounding him, he could move less and less but he struggled with all the more strength and panic because of that.
Suddenly the earth shook violently, sending everyone to the ground and roots erupted all around. They held down and strangled the attackers, some ripped the ropes off of Tyrael. The mortal angel rolled to his belly and tried to push himself up. Someone was calling his name and he realized it was all in his head.
Subst—Tyrael! Now is your chance! Run to the East! The Allfather is there, run to him!
To the—to where?! East—to the East, yes! He had to escape!
Tyrael struggled to his feet, the vegetation dragging the zealots away from him to clear a path. He took a few stumbling steps, pain and exhaustion hammering in his skull. He tripped and almost fell forward. That was when he saw Eirena behind him, meters away, fighting the roots by the side of the Zakarum priest.
"You will have to deal with us, Archangel of Nothing. Sooner or later."
The spark from earlier in him blew up and twisted into something hot and dark, flooding him.
Tyrael took off. He jumped and vaulted over the trapped zealots. He yanked an axe out of the arms of one. He grabbed it with both hands as he practically flew over the last meters. He swung the weapon so hard his shoulder joints barely held together. Maybe he even screamed something. The voice in his head was screaming too. His boots slipped on the blood and he fell, rolling on his back. A flash of light swept across the ground, disintegrating the roots. The voices shouted in agony and fell silent. Time froze for Tyrael, until a shield came crashing down on him from behind. The last thing he saw was Eirena's shocked expression and terrified eyes…
As her head rolled across the road.
…
Well.
Yes, that happened. Yes, it had been planned. Yes, I hated writing it.
I guess… see you all in April.
Dear god, what is going on. Please hurry, Quiet.
Lore & Trivia Corner
- Sister Maria is a brief call-back to the Healer of New Tristram in Diablo 3, Brother Malachi. Most notable of him is his tendency to randomly spout lines of prophecy, but whether they are from Zakarum scripture or from his own head, is not clear. Could be a descendant of a Fate angel, for all I know.
- Malthael sparing Tyrael: although not fully official, it is widely believed that Malthael only spared Tyrael in Corvus at the last second because Tyrael's soul is purely angelic, without the demonic taint that would make a mortal specifically a "human" in this universe. As such, that is also the case in my fanfic's AU – although logic hardly matters in the face of emotions, as we all know.
- Bau Toru: in the Sin War Trilogy, it is stated that Seram and Partha lie relatively close to certain "master ports", hence the trade route running through those two towns. Although none are called by name, it is safe to assume that the entirety of the story is taking part in the southern regions of Kehjistan, as such Gea Kul is probably not one of them. Or at least it is not the closest of them. So, I gave one of them a name.
- Zakarum Zealots and Priests: an enemy type from Act III of Diablo 2, they populated the almost well-designed ruins of Kurast. Once followers of the Zakarum faith, these holy men fell under the sway of Mephisto, turning their religious capital into a hive of scum and villainy. Their outfits are really hard to make out on the gifs and pictures I've found, but I did my best.
- The closing picture was inspired by the track Leah from Diablo 3. Especially the last 30 seconds or so…
- Malthael meets Cat: Our favorite Deadweight is being busy inside the Great Library of the Archivists. An experiment for a possible idea for Act IV, check the sketch out on the Tumblr blog!