Any and all Diablo characters present in this story belong to Blizzard Entertainment, and not to me. This story will be updated on Fridays, whether I get reviews or not (although I would like them), so keep reading, and I hope you enjoy this fic!

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Prologue: Act Five, The Story is Told.

He tried to shout his battlecry as he charged upon the last of the Ancients, but it died in his throat. For the first time in his life, "truth" and "honor" were lies to him. So he bore down upon the defender of Mount Arreat wordlessly, swinging his flail high above his head, and bringing its ball down upon the neck of Talic with a sickening crack. Just as quickly, Talic vanished. The battle was over.

"You are indeed worthy, stranger. But we sense darkness within your heart. We shall not grant you entry to the Worldstone Keep."

The victorious warrior was unsurprised. He dropped to one knee, holding the haft of his flail perpendicular to his thigh, and tried to murmur a few words of prayer and thanks for victory. Again, the words would not come. Even if he tried to visualize them in his head, they twisted and bent until they were nothing but blasphemies. He had been marked with the Shadow, and cast out from the Church. He was a son of Zakarum no more.

"Hai, Ancients," Abreen ad'Din saluted, hoping that the Ancients would mistake his assumed stance of prayer as one of reverence. "If I told you my story, and how I came to be here, might you judge me again?"

"We would judge again, stranger. Whether we would find you worthy this time, we cannot say."

"My thanks, Ancients. But this is not merely my story – the story of Abreen ad'Din, Son of Zakarum and Paladin of the Church of Light. This is the story of seven others whose lives have touched my own, and have brought me to this moment. Will you hear? I implore you."

"Speak, Abreen ad'Din. We will hear."

For a moment, Abreen merely remained in his prayer stance, reviewing his story in his head. He was struck by the darkness inherent in his path, even when he walked in the Light. How many had died for him and for the Church, thoughtlessly? Abreen straightened up, offered a bow to the golden statues of three mighty warriors in their own respects, and began his story.

"Did you live your lives under any illusions, Ancients? Did you ever pause to think that everything you might have lived for was a lie? Neither did I. But ere I stood before you here, I learned the truth. I learned it at the cost of lives near and dear to me and at the cost of the faith I had held since childhood. I learned that we live for nothing." The Ancients remained silent, but they were listening. Abreen was sure of it.

"You see me before you here, seemingly a man of the Church and a Paladin of Zakarum. But I tell you that I have been rejected. Cast out. I was sent north to Harrogath by a being that I had placed my faith in all my life, and I have been cursed even as I was blessed once before. I have become khammi – do you know that word, Ancients? In the scriptural language of the Church, it means "ignorant", like one who is ignorant before hearing the teachings of the Church, but it also means "traitor" – and even now, I am not granted refuge from my torture. I cannot seek it in life, for I am cursed now and forever. And I cannot seek it in death (for even torture everlasting in the Burning Hells would be preferable to the state of consignment that I live in now) because apparently, I am still needed. Look at me here, Ancients! Seven brave men and women, whom I called my friends, have died for me, not to mention a Brother of my Church! We are taught as Paladins to resist our enemies and the enemies of the Church, even to the point of shedding our blood, and giving our lives. Yet it is their lives which have been given, and even now, my blood remains unshed. This is my destiny, I was told, and my curse."

"I could tell you why I have been sent here, and what I seek to do within. I am sure those words would be sufficient to grant me entry. But to whom else can I tell the story that truly must be revealed here – that of Abreen ad'Din and the seven wanderers unfortunate enough to have crossed his path, and that of Anmin ar'Radim, my brother Paladin? So I ask you again, Ancients: will you hear? I implore you."

"We will hear your story to its end, Abreen ad'Din. Speak."

"I thank you, Ancients, from the very core of whatever black heart yet remains to me. The true story begins not here, and not in Kurast, but far away from this mountain, upon the Cold Plains of the Western Lands, beyond the great desert and the mountain pass. Now, I begin this account of my cursed journey, and my fateful revelations..."

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Coming next: Chapter One: Act One, Moya's Song.