The commune was quiet, and Tyrael wasn't entirely sure what to think about that.
It was rare for Tyrael to find himself with nothing on his plate. There was almost always some matter or another that needed his attention; if it wasn't the Horadrim needing guidance, it was something that had gone wrong in Westmarch. If it wasn't the city, then it was Rathma, with either some new dusty book to look over, or training in the magics that Tyrael had wanted to learn.
At least that was going well. Mortal magic was very strange compared to angelic, but the basics were similar enough that Tyrael had caught on quick.
Yes, caught on quick, and promptly blown himself across the clearing several times over. Currently, Rathma was trying to teach him more finesse and control. It would not due to explode oneself while attempting to transport, which he assured could happen.
So they practiced, and Tyrael learned, and leant himself where he was needed.
Really, he was quite sure he preferred it this way. Tyrael liked to keep himself busy, and stay on a task for as long as he could. He knew what he was doing when he was working. It was the down times that he wasn't quite sure what to do with.
Like now. No one was around, and while this in and of itself wasn't wholly unusual, it was rather strange at this time of evening. Most of the Horadrim should have been back from their various missions by now.
They had an unspoken rule about being back before dark. Not that they couldn't handle themselves, but it was easier not to take chances that something would happen when everyone else was asleep.
So, the commune should've been bustling with the group. They were almost twenty strong, discounting Tyrael and Rathma.
Well, they should've been back, and if they weren't, Tyrael needed to know why. He set off to search.
Turned out he need not have worried.
The Horadrim were all gathered in a cluster around the main living area. This could mean a lot of different things - many of them quite destructive. There were a lot of murmurings and whispers going around the group, not that Tyrael could pick up what they were saying.
Politely shoving his way through, Tyrael stopped and stared.
Rathma was seated on the floor with Lorath, and another of the horadrim. They were pouring intensely over several books and one large piece of paper. Every so often one of them would lean forward and jot something down.
With a start, Tyrael realized it was an utterly massive family tree that they were mapping out. There were hundreds of names and lines tracking across the paper, spanning generations and generations.
"Jacob Staalek was of both Kehjistani and barbarian descent, right Tyrael?" Lorath spoke up, not taking his eyes off the book he was rifling through.
"That's correct." Tyrael crouched down to better read some of the names. His admission caused Rathma to look up and squint crossly at him. A shrug was his only response.
"Well," Spoke up the third robed figure. "Back to the drawing board with that one." And leaned forward to erase a few lines.
"What exactly are you...doing?" He asked.
"Trying to track down Rathma's bloodline." Lorath replied simply. "Not as easy as it looks. He uh. He had a big family." The Horadrim points towards some lines at the top of the paper. Blinking, Tyrael shuffles over to read better.
He's vaguely surprised to find his own name on the paper - it wasn't as though he had any other family other than those descended from Inarius. Beside Rathma's name were several more, unfamiliar, rather demonic names. That Lilith had apparently had several more children out of...well he wasn't sure wedlock was accurate, but the fact that the demoness had been so disloyal bothered him.
Then again…
"You ah. Technically have siblings in Heaven." Tyrael spoke up. And everything in the room seemed to grind to a halt. Rathma looked up, frowned at him. Lorath looked up, and kept looking up, at the ceiling. The other Horadrim shuffled about them all uncertainly.
It was true - Inarius had participated in several joint lightsongs that led to knew angels. They carried bits of the angel's resonance, and by the way angels counted them, they could be considered his children.
They just also happened to be the children of a dozen other angels as well.
"I think we need a second page." Finally, the third scribe spoke up nonchalantly.
"It would come in handy if your uncles ever had any more children." Lorath agreed with a slight laugh. Rathma wrinkled his nose in response.
"One cousin was plenty, and I never even got to meet her." The nephalem spoke crossly. Tyrael winced at such a casual mention of Leah. And, privately agreed - Heavens forbid they ever encounter one of Baal's spawn, let alone another of Diablos, or Mephistos...
"We can deal with that later. Now, you're sure that's all your grandchildren there?" Tyrael knew he'd chosen that scribe well when he'd brought them on. Very on task, very good at staying organized. "Because this account of a feathered man on a wyvern in the south sounds an awful lot like your son, and he apparently stuck around long enough to raise a few more crotch-spawn…"
And so the conversation went.
Tuning them out, Tyrael continued to read the family tree. There was Inarius and Lilith, of course. Rathma and all his demonic half-siblings. The nephalem himself had...more children than he would have expected. And not necessarily from the same partner.
Tracing the lines, eventually he found the ones that linked to Uldyssian and Mendeln. Their line ended with them, and Tyrael found that to be a little bit sad. At least Rathma knew of their legacy, but they'd had no family to carry their names on.
After all they'd done for Sanctuary, Tyrael thought it was a shame that everyone had forgotten them.
But then, it was the angels who had ensured everyone would forget. Start over, a clean slate. They had said. Give them a chance. Erase their history.
Guiltily, he looked over at Rathma, who was still shuffling a few documents around. He had wanted to know more of Sanctuary's history, not realizing he was part of the reason it was forgotten in the first place.
Rathma looked up at him, face blank as ever.
The firstborn may remember. Their time will soon be up. The words hissed in the back of his mind like Mephisto himself was still speaking.
Already his proficiency at maintaining historical records had been shown - it was happening right in front of Tyrael as Lorath wrote down two more names. Rathma had to remember that day. Had to have known that the reason so much of his culture was lost was due to the meddling of angels.
And he'd shared his history anyway. Tyrael blinked, and Rathma went back to what he was doing.
He supposed the nephalem probably wanted as many to remember as possible. If one of them happened to be an angel, well… so be it. This time, Tyrael would make sure that Sanctuary's past would be known, and preserved.
He felt he owed it to all the names branching across the paper, across time, across generations.