With the stone hidden away and Malthael imprisoned, there was no need for them to remain together.
Slowly, they departed.
The Wizard was first, heading to her home in Xiansai.
"It was a mess when I left it, I imagine it's worse now." She had said by way of explanation. While she had often spoke down upon her home, it was still home. Accompanying her part-way would be the Crusader, Eirena and Kormac. They were heading for Caldeum. Heading that way were also Rathma's two chosen.
They all knew what had happened to the Necropolis. It was time to pick up the pieces.
Not long after, both Demon Hunter and Barbarian turned to head back into the Dreadlands.
There was an air of morbid curiosity, and desperate hope. Hope that friends and family had survived. Curiosity to see if it was so. Beneath it all was crushing dread and despair, for they who had been to the heart of the conflict knew the chances of survival.
In the days after most had departed, Tyrael went to Rathma with questions once more. Afterall, without the Neo-Nephalem around, what reason did the Ancient Nephalem have to stick around?
"Will you sleep again?" Was his first question, blurted at the dark figure's back.
Rathma had turned and stared at him a long minute, almost until Tyrael began to repeat himself. "No." Around them it was dusk, and the King of Necromancy turned about to begin his circuit of the cemeteries in Westmarch. There were still so many lost souls, and it was easier to send them on their way without too many onlookers.
"Then, there is more to come." Tyrael followed, idly wondering if the Nephalem would protest his presence.
"There will always be more to come. Such is the way of things." Rathma spoke vaguely, and Tyrael sensed an uphill battle for information here.
"You awaken in times of major strife. Then you sleep again." Tyrael stated what he'd heard from the others. When Rathma did not dissent, he continued on. "If you will not sleep, then it is still a time of strife."
A snort was his response this time. "Look around Tyrael. Does this look like peace to you?" They had entered Briarthorn cemetery. Graves everywhere were upturned, urns and headstones broken, ashes scattered. There were more bones than anyone really knew what to do with but pile them up more or less out of the way.
Tyrael suppressed a grumble of annoyance. "I think you know what I mean."
"I think you should speak plainly if you want plain answers." Rathma gestured to one pile, and spoke several words of power. It began to separate itself. Thankfully, there didn't seem to be anyone around to witness the grisly task.
He could not prevent the aggrieved sigh this time, and for a moment Tyrael thought he saw his dubious companion smirk. "Why are you not departing? Do you sense something coming?" He finally demanded.
Several skeletons walked themselves back to their graves, and climbed in.
"...I do not sense events, Tyrael. If you want to look for specifics, perhaps you should consult Myriam, or maybe Itherael." Rathma finally offered. "I get...feelings. Sensations, urges. Something is likely coming, but I cannot tell you what." With another wave of his hand, and a muttering of spellwork, the graves began to fill themselves once more. Soon they were smoothed over, the proper remains in place.
As the Nephalem turned to continue his work, Tyrael couldn't help but wonder what could be coming. He supposed he should double his efforts with the Horadrim...
"It's not the Horadrim you need to worry about." Rathma absently called."Personally I'd keep a closer eye on what your Heavens are up to."
"I thought you couldn't read events." Tyrael was not quite sure how he felt about the other's ability to get into people's heads.
"I cannot." More muttering, more skeletons dutifully trotting off to their graves. "It doesn't take a vision to know Imperius is furious, and hurt, and probably looking for an outlet. And since we've robbed him of his favorite one…" Rathma raised a hand towards the moon, and Tyrael gave him a blank look. "Sanctuary would be his next target no?"
Tyrael blinked after his companion as he moved on to the next macabre pile. He certainly didn't want to think Imperius would attack Sanctuary, but then, he hadn't even considered that Malthael might do so. And look what had happened there.
"So, you will remain to fight the Heavens?" He asked quietly.
"I've always been ready to do battle with your kind, Tyrael." Rathma was blunt with his words. "You've never represented much more than a danger to me. But, as of right now, I'd rather try and do things diplomatically."
Fighting Malthael to the death had not exactly been high on his List of Great and Fun Things To Do on a Matins Morning.
"But if it comes to that, you will." Tyrael persisted.
"I kicked Malthael square between the legs last week. I'll kick Imperius too if he needs it." The Nephalem smiled at Tyrael in a conspiratorial way. Tyrael blinked, momentarily unsettled, and shook his head.
As Rathma continued his work, Tyrael trailing behind, the once-angel couldn't help but marvel at how well this conversation had actually gone. Despite how much the ancient liked to talk in circles, at least he'd been civil this time.
"It is good. Sanctuary needs its protectors right now." Tyrael offered. Rathma gave him a long, considering look, before turning back to the next bone pile. Neither one of them spoke after this, simply accepting one-another presence. The Necromancer worked well into the night, and Tyrael simply watched, until all the empty graves had been filled.