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Chapter 62

From up high, the rainforest remained mysterious as ever, yet it donned a deceptively calm and peaceful appearance. The thick foliage formed an almost endless green carpet, the trees were higher than most buildings in Westmarch or even in Caldeum, and they betrayed precisely nothing of what lied under them. Tyrael's fingers began to cramp as he held onto the bright feathers for dear life on the back of the flying snake, his other hand pressing the sleeping Quiet against him. He was exhausted, confused, terrified and hopeless all at the same, what little coherent thoughts he could form was used to somehow stay on this damned thing. He had no idea where they were, if they were even flying in the right direction. Maybe they have passed the Cathedral of Light hours ago, there was no way to tell.

Eventually Tyrael realized that they were indeed flying southeast, at least as far as he could tell from the slowly rising sun. The winged serpent let out a low but still powerful hiss and slowly began to descend, aiming for a relatively open space next to the Argentek River. At least, Tyrael guessed it was the Argentek, given its massive size. The width of the river could have easily covered the entirety of New Tristram, and still would have had some space left for some of the fields surrounding the village.

The snake landed on a patch of solid ground amidst a smaller marsh. The island was surrounded by giant reeds which would have meant a great hiding spot, had the serpent not towered over them with its size. There was only lonely tree on it, with wide roots that formed a natural shelter. Tyrael almost fled off of the animal's back, tumbling onto the ground and jostling Quiet awake. Looking back, the snake was obviously breathing hard – having to fly for its life for hours, seconds after its birth was probably not an easy feat to pull off. It looked at the passengers with intelligent amber eyes.

- Thank you! You were very good! – Quiet shook his head groggily, waving at the snake who hissed in return. – Oh you are tired. Me too!

Tyrael just stared at the creature, slowly processing the fact that he was looking at a completely new species that may eventually spread across certain lands of Sanctuary. Some small part of him was fascinated by the notion, but he was just too overwhelmed to feel much for it.

Everything charged at him at once and he could barely stumble to the roots of the tree before his legs gave out and he sat down on the ground hard. Quiet ran after him with a shout, stubbornly carrying that ridiculous doll resembling Lyndon around.

- Are you alright? – the small child asked full of worry.

- No, Anu damn it! – Tyrael snapped before he froze.

Quiet jumped back a little but didn't leave. Behind him, the winged serpent flattened itself against the ground and coiled up into a hill of scales and feathers.

- Why are you even here, Ina—Quiet? – Tyrael breathed then. – I thought I…

Quiet glanced down at his feet and shuffled awkwardly.

- You were very skerry. And mean, to me and to Inarius. That was very bad of you – he finally admitted. – But… I thought you were my friend. And the nice lady Soffia told me that grownups talk about problems, they do not shout. So I wanted to see if we can talk about things and be friends again. Like Leendonn has done with me too.

Tyrael stared at the child who was barely big enough to reach his torn belt.

- You… don't want to talk? – Quiet asked uncertainly after minutes of silence.

- I… – Tyrael tried to say but there were just too much.

He had almost killed Quiet, yet the child came after him to try and rebuild bridges. He did it because Sophie was—Tyrael felt like he was choking. Sophie deserved better. He can never see her again because she deserved so much better than him. He killed Eirena in cold blood the second he got the chance, he had trusted her not so long ago, why didn't he run, why couldn't he just turn around and run—

A jolt ran across his body, temporarily refocusing Tyrael's thoughts to the present. Quiet was touching his knee.

- Are you ill? I can heal you – he asked, even more worried.

The child's clothes were even more tattered than before, burnt holes dotted the flaps. There was genuine fear, exhaustion and worry in those huge red eyes that kept scanning Tyrael's face in the hopes of any kind of coherent answer finally.

"You lied to me, you—you abomination of Creation!"

- I'm—I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! – Tyrael sobbed.

He didn't know if he said it to Inarius, to Quiet, to Eirena, or to the world. Hardly mattered since those words couldn't mend any of the damage he has ever left in his wake.

Quiet ducked his head and gently pressed against Tyrael's chest as the man buckled forward, crying. The fallen angel returned the hug, resting his cheek on the top of the white hair. He wished he could expel it all with his unstoppable tears – his fear, his shame, his self-loathing, his doubts… But they remained with him and there was nothing he could do about them. He could feel the little angel radiate warmth, his small wings gently waving. It was like an anchor to his soul – barely there, but effective enough to keep him in the real world, despite his darkest thoughts.

Tyrael closed his eyes and wished he could be even remotely like Quiet.

oooOOOooo

Hours later, Tyrael found himself still sitting in the shade of the tree, with Quiet snuggled up to him. The day so far had been a blur for him, and he struggled to find some footing in his thoughts. The winged serpent was still asleep not far from them.

- I killed my friend… and I nearly killed you as well, because I couldn't listen – Tyrael choked out, unable to look at the child. – I-I need to leave, I can't stay with you, I…

He wished he could form coherent sentences, but that was beyond his abilities right now. Quiet stayed silent for a bit before speaking up:

- You told me Soffia was a bit like Leendonn, right? Very clever and kind and taught you a lot of things.

- I cannot see her again – Tyrael shook his head, wiping his tears away. – She deserves better. I am a corrupted shadow of a man now.

Quiet fidgeted with his doll for a bit.

- I… I did a lot of bad things too – he finally said in a small voice. – I killed many people because I was angry.

He looked up at Tyrael with great grief and sadness in his eyes.

- There were people who threatened Leendonn many times. And I thought the only way I could keep my frie—my papa safe was to kill all those men, even those who weren't bad or evil, just doing their jobs – he went on when Tyrael turned to him finally. – Leendonn was very angry with me. He told me what I did was very very bad… and I got very sad because I knew he was right. But then he told me I could still be much better, that I made big mistakes but I could still be good. He taught me how to be good after that, how not to hurt people who were not bad.

He gently raised the ground and fashioned another textile doll out of it – one with long golden hair, big green eyes, white shirt and brown skirt.

- I am sure Soffia would do the same. You two really like each other, you told me. She will help you be good again – he offered it to Tyrael.

The fallen angel stared at the gift. It was such a meaningless toy… but by Anu, his throat seized up and his heart plummeted when he looked at it. He accepted it with madly shaking hands, barely daring to touch it. He was so very afraid of what Sophie might say, he admitted as he looked over the doll. He was so afraid that he would see disgust and fear on those beautiful features that had always been so welcoming, kind and brave. He was afraid he would lose all that, her laughter, her kind words, her support, her teachings about mortal life, all the time they had spent together. He knew he deserved rejection from her yet he was so afraid of it.

- I'm such a coward – he breathed, holding the doll close with a heavy heart.

- She will help you – Quiet insisted a bit stronger than before. – Soffia loves you. She will be angry, but she will help you. Leendonn did the same to me, because he loves me.

He gently waved at the ground, which formed a perfect oval-shaped basin before them. Crystal clear water gathered into it a moment later. Tyrael sucked in his breath, glancing at Quiet. The small child, fragile and battered yet so much braver than he, gestured at the small pond. Tyrael gulped. After what felt like an eternity, he finally clutched the doll of Sophie in one hand and reached out with the other. He traced circles on the surface of the water, murmuring the necessary words, leaving out the ones that would allow him to talk to his target.

The water shimmered and waves ran across it. A modest room of wooden walls and floors appeared, their texture highlighted by a lone candle on the only table. The darkness of night obscured most of the scene, but the candle gave enough light to reveal a form sitting by the table, and reading a whole stack of papers.

Sophie was slightly hunched over one of Tyrael's letters. She was visibly sniffling, although no sound came from the scrying. She often rubbed her eyes that glistened like diamonds by the orange light. Despite her tears, a bittersweet smile graced her lips as she clutched the paper. She said something, probably calling Tyrael an idiot. The fallen angel could tell Sophie was probably aware that he had left out of a lot of details from his recounts. What details, she would hopefully never guess, but she was intelligent enough to see the holes.

She pressed the letter against her chest as she finished reading it, then gingerly placed it aside and reached for another one – one with two pouches attached to it. She curiously opened the smaller one first, peeking inside. For a moment her features smoothened into blissful relaxation as she smelled the aroma of the exotic tea Tyrael had sent her. She placed the pouch on the table and checked out the other containing the white-golden shawl with the desert scenes. She opened it wide, marveling at the craftsmanship. With a visible happy sigh she twisted it around her shoulders before reaching for the letter itself.

It was… a strangely warm feeling that radiated through the misery: seeing someone care for Tyrael so deeply while he was away. It was a scene that was so often painfully missing from angelic culture.

Quiet looked up at Tyrael.

- See? She misses you – he pointed out softly.

- Because she does not know what I have done – Tyrael shook his head weakly, unable to look away from Sophie. – She will hate me for it, with good reason. I do not deserve her forgiveness.

- I am sure I didn't deserve Leendonn's kindness either – Quiet mumbled, turning back to the pool. – But he still gave it to me because he loves me. Soffia will do the same to you.

Tyrael took a deep shaky breath, pressing his new doll against him.

He didn't deserve forgiveness from anyone, and he was a damned coward and afraid of what Sophie might think of him. Both of these facts stabbed sharply into his brain and made their presence known without mercy. But… if he had any shred of integrity left in him, the very same shred he had tried to fight for back in the Durance of Hate… he had to face her eventually, and confess to her.

Above all else, she deserved honesty and truth. He may not have been the Archangel of Justice any longer, but this one thing he still had to do.

Tyrael looked down at Quiet who stared at the scrying pool longingly, clearly not seeing Sophie.

-… Would you like to see Lyndon? – Tyrael asked gently, pushing his thoughts aside.

Quiet looked up at him and gave an uncertain nod after a small pause. Tyrael leaned forward, he took one more look at Sophie, steeling his resolve just a bit. He then dismissed the picture and repeated the spell, picturing the sly scoundrel.

Lyndon appeared in the water, clearly sitting by an unseen camp. The daylight got lost on his strangely blurry brown coat and garments. Only the (obviously angelic) crossbow and his features showed clearly, he must have changed his outfit, Tyrael figured. He was talking to someone, his brown eyes darting from one spot to another, but he didn't seem startled or worried in the slightest – perhaps he had more than one person as a company and he was having their attention on him. His back was straight like the proudest soldier in Westmarch. Tyrael caught himself marveling at the scoundrel, honestly bewildered by the sight. Even when Lyndon could have been called a bona fide hero during their quest, he was never a great presence – he was often afraid and unsure despite his loud easygoing act, but his sense of duty and righteousness kept him going, as it should have. But the Lyndon in the pool now… he seemed confident, determined. As if he finally found his place in the world.

Maybe Tyrael imagined too much into a simple pose due to his own miserable state. Maybe he was projecting, only wishing he had the inner strength to sit up straight. Still, there was something definitely different about the scoundrel, and not just on the outside. Quiet reached out for the water longingly, his small fingers sending ripples across it.

- I miss my papa – he said in a fragile voice, sniffling.

- I am sure he is looking for you this very moment. It appears he might have recruited some help for that – Tyrael offered, trying to connect the clues he was seeing, his ravaged mind grateful for the temporary distraction.

- We will find each other. I promiss-d him – Quiet nodded, sounding so sure despite their current situation.

Tyrael figured he eventually would need to muster such levels of surety as well if he was serious about his resolution. He dismissed the scrying after a few minutes, and Quiet snuggled up to his side again, closing his eyes.

- Inarius would like to talk to you. If that's okay – he said softly.

- Yes… I reckon it is necessary…

Quiet inhaled, the red rubies disappearing from his body. He stood up and walked in front of Tyrael, before opening his eyes.

- Are you well, brother? – Inarius asked gently.

- No. Not even the slightest. But that is irrelevant now – Tyrael shook his head.

The angel was fidgeting anxiously, he kept glancing at northwest, as if afraid Mephisto himself would come after him any minute. His soft voice now held a quiver.

- I am… I am deeply sorry, Tyrael – Inarius finally said after a moment of awkward pause.

- I should be apologizing— – Tyrael tried to say but the words tumbled out of his brother's mouth:

- I could not explain myself well, I—I could not rise against Mephisto's influence to help, I could not stop Eye from killing everyone on the ship, I did not know this journey would be like this, I… – Inarius stammered, casting his gaze to the ground. – I am… I know it does not matter, but I am truly sorry…

Tyrael got the sinking feeling that currently he had more in common with Inarius than at any other previous points in their lives. There had been a time when Tyrael had been certain there was not a single more disgraced being in all of Creation than Inarius. And now here they were, one could argue, on equal grounds.

Truly painfully ironic, he thought bitterly. He was such a terrible brother, he concluded.

- I too need to apologize – he admitted tiredly. – I have not given you the opportunity to explain yourself. And I… caused a lot of deaths too. Even killed a friend – his throat seized up at the last sentence.

Inarius glanced up at him, clearly not expecting this reaction. The two brothers shared a grieving look.

-… My condolences – the angel finally said.

Tyrael couldn't help the snort bursting out from him:

- Don't. I am solely to blame for all of it.

He then shook himself, trying his best to get rid of his dark thoughts. He had to believe that there was still good in the world, and he had to hold out until he would meet Sophie again so he could confess.

- About Rathma… – he tried to change the topic instead.

-… Linarian is indeed the Balancekeeper – Inarius nodded sadly. – But I have done nothing to be a threat to the Balance. I am—Quiet is a child now, we are still looking for our place in the world. Linarian must be hunting me out of hatred and revenge, I swear by whatever you want me to.

Tyrael thought for a moment.

- I cannot say what his motivations are – he pondered aloud. – But… Rathma had clearly thought nothing of killing an entire carrack's worth of soldiers and sailors, just to get you. That makes things… complicated.

- I cannot believe he recruited Rammanu for that! Of all people… – Inarius grumbled under his nose, scratching his hair.

- You knew that storm monster?

- He had been one of the first Nephalem, quite the volatile one. He joined a misguided rebellion and almost killed me. I struck him down out of self-defense, but… I did not know his soul has been clinging to Sanctuary to this day.

Tyrael thought back on the horrible figure in the storm, an amalgamation of pure malice, destruction and rage. Ending that shadow of a Nephalem had been the right thing to do, that much he was certain of, if nothing else.

- He is not clinging anymore, I believe – he nodded.

- You have killed him with a single strike, no less – Inarius glanced at him with admiration.

- I… I honestly have no idea how I have done that.

- Still. Impressive.

Tyrael replied with the faintest of smiles, before asking:

- And the Cathedral of Light? Still just for nostalgia?

Inarius sat down on the grass with Creation's heaviest sigh.

- … Yes – he said in a fragile voice. – I-I know it is selfish. I just… I have been imprisoned for thousands of years… been dead for just as long. And the others—they are gone for even longer, I just… I just wanted to see my family again. Is that really too much to ask for? After all that?

A small part of Tyrael wanted to answer "yes, it is". But thankfully his brain was too exhausted to call upon the usual distrust and preemptive dismissal against Inarius that had engraved itself into his thinking. So instead he thought about this whole mess more objectively. Yes, it had been exceptionally stupid and inadvisable to travel across an entire world teeming with danger, just for nostalgia. But Inarius or Quiet, whoever was the deciding party in it, could not have possibly foretold the insane amount of bad luck and adversary that would face them on the journey. There was no way to tell that Rathma would attack them multiple times, or that he even would go to these abhorrent lengths to reach his goal. Or that Eirena would ambush them. Or that the entirety of the Sisterhood of the Sightless Eye would be slaughtered and turned into undead. Or that an entire ship's worth of innocent good people would be caught up in the crossfire that should have never happened in the first place. Besides all that, Quiet never really demanded that Tyrael go with him – he was ready to brave the entirety of Sanctuary on his own. It was mostly Tyrael's conscience and the gods' nagging that they were stuck together in it.

- Maybe it is too much – the fallen angel finally admitted. – But there was no way you could have predicted any of this… mess that has happened. I cannot fault you for those in the end.

Tyrael looked over the marsh. It occurred to him that he had no idea when the last time he ate anything was, but he did not feel hungry. That was somewhat alarming.

- I did not know you thought of the Renegades as a family – he told Inarius instead.

- Our shared dream of a peaceful life made us face immeasurable dangers together – the small angel glanced up at him with slight annoyance. – We have left everything behind, and we had not done it lightly. Of course we were a family, we only ever had each other in the end.

Personally, Tyrael had never thought of the Renegades as people, really, more as a blemish on the history of the Angelic Host, traitors who abandoned the Silver City in a time of need. And even worse, they stole the very object that would have ensured the final victory of the Host in the Eternal Conflict.

What "final victory", really? Shouldn't have the angels won their very first battle against the demons since they were firmly controlling the Worldstone back then, according to that logic? Shouldn't have the angels won any other time out of the hundreds of thousands of occasions when they had the Stone? Perhaps the Renegades had been right on some level, even if their methods were… questionable.

The winged serpent suddenly moved, lifting its enormous head from the ground. It was tasting the air with its forked tongue, hissing lowly.

- Go ahead – Inarius waved to which it took off and disappeared above the trees.

Tyrael stared at his brother.

-… She said she will go hunt and bring back food for us as well – Inarius translated.

- It's a female?

- Why yes, all Begetters are female.

To Tyrael's hopeless stare, Inarius actually cracked a smile – his resonance reflected mirth, his wings fluttered.

- For once, I am the one explaining something to you – he chuckled. – Begetters are the first members of any animal species. They are always healthy and perfect, and they are all female. They can be killed, of course, but they never age. They roam the world of Sanctuary and once they find a suitable home, they give birth to their descendants who are the "normal" animals, so to speak. Those offsprings are smaller, and do need a male and a female to procreate and populate and eventually evolve further. It is Eye's method of creating new life.

Tyrael's overworked brain couldn't help but conjure up a mental image of the most perfect largest sow ever. His face must have been hilarious because another chuckle escaped Inarius.

- And… what will that snake be called? – the fallen angel asked, recollecting himself somewhat.

Inarius looked at the sky after his latest creation.

- I… do not believe it is my place to say anymore – he turned back to Tyrael. – During Sanctuary's creation it had been me and some members of my family who cataloged and named all the animals and plants. But Sanctuary has humanity now. It is up to them to decide.

- Let's hope it will not scare some scholars to death.

- Oh it might. I cannot guarantee that. She and her children will find their land and their place in the food chain on their own accord.

It occurred to Tyrael that he had never actually thought about what kind of work went into the creation of Sanctuary: how the Renegades contributed and worked together, or how the Worldstone wove everything into place. There was no denying that this world was leagues beyond in complexity to anything else the angels and demons have ever created during the war. It had its own tectonics, ecosystem, climate, flora and fauna that far outnumbered that of pre-war Pandemonium. Everything angels and demons had created were in service of the Eternal Conflict – mostly new battlefields, war mounts and attack animals, living siege-weapons. Nobody bothered, especially not Malthael, the embodiment of Practicality himself, to pour any more energy into the soon-to-be-destroyed-anyway creation than absolutely necessary. The Worldstone had also been incredibly difficult to control, it often led to Malthael being almost completely knocked out for weeks. Everyone had just assumed that guiding such incredible power would require massive effort – but Tyrael now had a growing suspicion that the Stone had been actively fighting them this whole time. Inarius and the Renegades had achieved feats with the artifact that nobody else had, despite having quite literally zero experience with it before. Perhaps the Stone was gladly working with them, thrilled by the notion of creating something that had a chance to survive – as much as a mountain sized sentient gemstone could be "thrilled" about anything, so to speak.

It would have been a fascinating subject to dive into, had Tyrael not been so utterly crushed. He leaned back against the tree.

-… I am sorry I accused you of wrongdoing – he finally said in defeat. – I fell to my own prejudice.

-… Welcome to the world of mortals, brother. Everyone makes mistakes – Inarius gently placed one small hand on his palm. – I am just grateful you allowed this talk to happen.

He sat down besides Tyrael and closed his eyes. A ripple ran across his form and the rubies returned with Quiet.

- Grownups talk things out – he then stated matter-of-factly.

- They sure do – Tyrael smiled faintly.

oooOOOooo

Apparently, the winged snake (Quiet named her Wingies, very creatively) was already good at finding her place in the food chain, because after a few hours she returned with a huge water buffalo-looking creature. The poor animal was much larger than Beasts in the west and it sported some nasty horns on top of its head. Wingies landed and dropped it before her passengers. There was a noticeable bulge slowly but surely travelling down her neck, indicating that she had more than one haul from the trip.

Tyrael reckoned the buffalo would have been able to feed an entire village if not two for a couple of days. He felt somewhat wrong for wasting such precious meat, but they could not possibly carry the rest with themselves. So he carved out some of the meatiest parts of the animal for roasting, while Quiet made a small fire by the sunset. Wingies was busy discovering their immediate area, tasting the air as she twisted and turned among the tree trunks. The combined presence of her and Quiet deterred some of the jungle predators for sticking their noses in. Tyrael couldn't help but note wryly that after this damn near pure catastrophe of a journey so far, their stay in this jungle was probably the smoothest going so far. Arguably the most dangerous lands of Sanctuary, and they were having a walk in the park through it, to the point where not even bugs bothered them.

Figures.

Tyrael's lack of hunger thankfully quickly evaporated once he took a bite out of the beef. It was dry and tasteless but his famished stomach greatly welcomed the nourishment. Quiet only ate a few small bites, opting for growing berries and fruit out of the ground instead. They spent the dinner mostly in silence, grateful for the peace. Who knew if Mephisto's former followers, or Johanna and her brainwashed group, or Rathma himself was still after them – they had to make the most of whatever little downtime they were gifted with. Tyrael had yet to spot the tell-tale dark smudge of the Balancekeeper around them, but he decided not to take it as a good sign, just in case.

Gods checked in with them from time to time, and Tyrael quickly got used to them. They all were clearly barely containing their excitement to finally meet the "Allfather", but Quiet had a surprising amount of patience for them. From their names, Tyrael guessed most of them belonged to the Umbaru pantheon – spirits of the so-called "Unformed Land". They did not appear in person, but they were in the breeze, the rustling leaves, the splashes in the river or the bubbling mud.

- Are B'rua and Zaim alright? – Quiet asked them.

- They are recovering. B'rua sends her apology for not being able to help more – one leaf answered.

- No, no, she did very good. Tell her I am very glad she helped – Quiet shook his head.

- B'rua? – Tyrael asked.

- She and Zaim found you for me, and they tried to help you get away from the bad men – Quiet explained. – But the bad lady Johhana hurt them very bad, and I was worried about them.

Tyrael recalled the hazy pictures of attacking plants and shaking ground in his darkest hour, and the distant voice screaming at him to run to the east. He dearly wished he had listened to them. Mortal emotions were a terrible adversary, however.

"No feeling is irrelevant in this world of Sanctuary. Do you regret it?"

Ashava's words rang just a bit too clearly in his head for his liking. Once again he did not dare dwell on it. Not when he felt like his soul was made of egg shells.

They should have kept going to keep their headstart, Tyrael knew. But they were both exhausted so they stayed put on the small island for the night. Quiet quickly fell asleep as he made a small nest among the tree's roots with some leaves. Tyrael tried to find any concern within himself for the destruction of Kurast but there was none. He was too exhausted emotionally, and Kurast was arguably just as bad as Old Tristram – getting rid of them could only improve the whole of Sanctuary on the long run.

So Tyrael roasted a few more slices of meat from the buffalo, put some away for the morning, and then he too nestled into the roots next to the softly breathing Quiet. He did not know what the future might bring for a disgraced fallen angel like him, but he took a moment to steel his resolve about meeting Sophie and confessing to her, whatever may come after that.

He still had this much integrity.

It's okay to be afraid sometimes, Tyrael. :(

My workplace was doing its absolute best to wreck me with dumb projects and impossible deadlines, but I persevered, cupcakes! We are nearing the end of Act III, and I cannot wait to see how I will be able to work out the finale. You'll be the judge of that.

Thank you for reading! See you all in August, hopefully!

Lore & Trivia Corner

- Argentek River: one of the few rivers that have a name on the map of Sanctuary, the Argentek is the main river of the Kehjistan jungles, and the longest in the world. It collects hundreds of smaller streams, and it had a series of bigger towns along its length, the first capital Kehjan, and the Cathedral of Light itself included. At least I think so, if my digging in the Sin War trilogy for directions and locations were just a bit successful.

- Begetters: a personal addition to the worldbuilding, mostly inspired by famous mythical animal stories. It is also somewhat a callback to Chapter 38 where Kanai explains legendary monsters and their offsprings.