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Chapter 68

Eirena is dead

Lyndon took a sharp breath. It was hard to believe.

Myriam is dead

And so was that…

The scoundrel stopped on the gravel path and furiously wiped his eyes. Tuon had thankfully realized the man was in a bad emotional shape and he left him alone for which Lyndon was grateful.

Two of his former teammates and friends, gone. One of them had been the one to set him on this path in the first place. The other had been just the most chipper person, the warmest ray of sunshine in this world. To think that they were no longer here… Lyndon's hand travelled to his dagger sheathed on his belt, and a stab of shame and guilt raced through him. He was a Clear-seer according to the Barbarian king Kanai, he was supposed to notice things. How the hell did he not notice Myriam stealing his dagger when they had found each other in Ureh?! Knowing the vecin, she had foreseen Lyndon would refuse to kill her and she decided to act on her own. Granted, her passing was what enabled Lyndon and Luther to launch their surprise attack on Johanna…

But gods, at what price?

The scoundrel shook his entire body and began walking again, taking a deep breath. Ashava too… Lyndon had seen a premonition about the walking hut, he had run into that strange trio somewhere before the Tamoe Mountains, and he could tell Quiet had spent a longer amount of time with them. They seemed reluctant to move from that area for some reason. At first, they were just a weird but friendly group giving him shelter for a night before he moved onto the Eastgate Keep. But the second Lyndon had realized the fort and its occupants were all gone, he immediately spun around on his heels and rushed back for the demonesses to recruit them for his quest if possible. Turned out, not only were they avid supporters of Inarius, and now of Quiet, but they also had a generic idea where the little angel and Tyrael were headed. Teaming up with them had been one of the best moves Lyndon had made on his trail. Ashava had been incredibly enigmatic, to an annoying degree at times, but she did offer wisdom, she was surprisingly empathetic and… foolishly heroic as well, seeing her fate.

Taking a turn on the path, Lyndon arrived at a small lake with a wide willow and some bushes. On the shore not occupied by the tree Izba was resting in her hut form. Her injured leg was stuck out from under her, it laid heavily bandaged in the soft grass. She seemed to be asleep, the small puffs of smoke coming from her chimney were the indicators of her snoring. Lyndon figured he would better leave without waking the demoness, but as he turned around, he caught the form of Adenah sitting under the willow's branches in her demon form. She was using a long branch to slap the lake's surface and cause ripples, her eyes lost in thought. Lyndon let out a long sigh and he changed course to walk up to her.

- Hey girl – he sat down next to her.

- Oh hey – Adenah blinked in surprise, coming back to the world of the living. – What's happening, Lyn?

- Nothing major. Just catching up with everyone I can – the scoundrel shrugged. – How are you two doing?

- We'll live, thankfully. Hells know, I would have hated to go through rebirth again – Adenah sighed in defeat. – We are a bit… shaken, though, y'know. We ain't no warriors and this-this shitshow was really the deep end, y'know.

- Trust me, as a barely qualifying warrior myself, this was most definitely the deep end.

- But you have told us you'd been through some insane bullshit.

- My point exactly.

Adenah let out a snort. The two fell into silence for a bit, watching the ripples she was creating.

- I'm… very sorry about the others – Adenah finally mumbled. – The vecin friend of yours… and Ashava, good lord…

- Thank you – Lyndon sighed. – It's… going to take some time to process all of that.

- And-and when that whore damn-near tore Boss' wing out… I was so angry, y'know? – Adenah's slightly distorted voice fell a couple of tones, she slapped the water with greater force. – I wanted to just-just march up to her and tear her head off. Even if it wasn't the Boss, to do that to a kid, it's—it was so fucking messed up. But then I didn't dare to move, and it sucks, y'know… I am such a huge coward…

- You wouldn't have been able to do anything to her because of that shitty weird magic, Adenah. Don't be too hard on yourself – Lyndon rested his hand on his shoulder.

- Ashava threw herself at that bitch when she was fully formed, and without hesitation too.

- Ashava was—is a veteran of war, you guys told me… And still, I wish she didn't do that. We should have thought up another way to slow her down – Lyndon shook his head, letting his hand fall.

- I guess there are no backsies now – Adenah sighed deeply, before shaking her head, regaining her usual voice. – I'm sorry, Lyn. I know you have a lot on your mind, didn't want bring you down.

- I'm already pretty low, don't worry about me – the scoundrel let go of a wry grin, before making a move to stand up. – I'm checking on the others. Do you wanna come?

-… No, no, I think I will stay. If that's okay.

- Sure thing, girl. Tell Izba I said hi.

Lyndon set course for another small grotto in this massive and varied oasis. This time his path led to a hidden hammock that was surrounded by shrubs of bright colors. Some of the plants' flowers and even leaves were yellow or yellow and red or another such nonsense color, but none of them seemed sick or dying. Granted, Lyndon knew precisely nothing about plants beyond which berry was good to eat out in the wilds, so he figured he should leave this to Tuon. Besides, the golden foliage seemed to make their guest far more relaxed.

- Ffrieeendd!

Luther jumped off his hammock and ran up to Lyndon to hug his torso. The pale-horned treasure goblin really didn't seem to be in a bad shape. The stab wound in his hip sealed up fully, and he was clearly in good spirits as well.

- Hey, good to see you too, Luther! – Lyndon let out a chuckle and returned the hug.

- Turns out treasure goblins are fast to recover. Guess they need it for their constant raids – a slightly spectral figure emerged from the flowers as well.

- And how are you doing, Zei? – Lyndon looked at the god, pulling away from Luther.

- I'm fine. It's been literal eons since I have truly been myself – the god looked over himself.

At first glance, he looked like a younger fitter version of Shen, without that terrible excuse of a beard. However, his clothes had an unnaturally clean and well-kept look, with even the leather straps of his massive satchel shone as if they were made from otherworldly material. His irises were green, but they occasionally glimmered with a divine light. His form solidified as he stepped onto the ground and walked up to the duo.

- Still… I must consult with the Allfather about my future fate – Zei grimaced.

- Why would you need to? – Lyndon frowned.

- Because I have failed my duty. Dirgest is still out there, there is no longer a gem to hold him. My sentence had been to be his jailor.

- Oh come on, Zei…

- Hey, even the god of thieves has his own honor – the god waved with a half-smile. – Despite everything, I have always been a stalwart follower of the Allfather. I do not plan to change now.

- Alright, alright, you know best – Lyndon waved. – I highly doubt Quiet would be hard on you, in any case.

- Haee! – Luther nodded.

- Even though I have failed miserably to shield him from harm – Zei sighed in defeat.

- Failing against Johanna is not exactly a mark of shame, Zei. There is a… good number of beings who can tell the same story. The Prime Evil and Death himself very much included.

Lyndon stopped for a second. Oh Hells, he had to tell Tyrael about Malthael…

He shook himself. There was no helping it, Tyrael had to know about the situation. And Lyndon had to make sure Justice would not flay Deadweight alive for his past sins, if the mortal angel even had that much fight left in him. He looked terrible back at their hut.

- Lyndon?

- Wha-what? – the scoundrel snapped back into reality with a gasp.

- I asked what now? – Zei tilted his head to the side, and Luther mimicked, both staring at the man.

- I… well, aren't you the god around here? – the scoundrel backpedaled.

- I may be, but you are the group leader, clearly. Or shouldn't those past weeks traveling across Sanctuary be considered?

Lyndon paused. True, during these last weeks, it really was up to him to decide on a lot of things. Still, despite it all, he didn't quite feel like a group leader yet. Would he ever? Or did people just… step up to the plate and do it because they had to?

It was an interesting question, to be frank.

- I… uh, well, I haven't thought about it yet. I'm just checking on everyone, you know – Lyndon scratched his head uncertainly.

- Ffriendd!

- Not a bad idea, you are right, Luther – Zei nodded to the goblin before turning back to Lyndon. – I reckon we are safe here and can spend more time. Once you have an idea, let us hear it.

- Since when did I become the leader? – Lyndon blurted out in confusion. – I don't get it.

-… Since you have gathered everyone and enlisted their aid to find and protect Quiet, Lyndon – Zei rolled his eyes.

- Yeah, I know, but—

- Scoundrel, do not lose your steps now! – the god leaned closer in a chastising manner. – You have been doing well up to this point. Who knows what kind of catastrophe would have happened if you hadn't been around to handle things? Do you seriously want to devolve back into that whiny drama queen you had been months ago?!

- Okay, okay, by the gods, Zei! – Lyndon defended himself. – Glad to see your tongue is still the same.

- Someone has to occasionally remind you, scoundrel – Zei let go of a wry smile. – Now go. See to the others. We are fine here.

The scoundrel grimaced at the god, but he let the matter go and exited the grotto. One more person was to go and hells knew where he was in this big garden.

- Kormac? Kormac! – Lyndon called out as he wove around trees and bushes, having no better idea.

Of course no answer came. That would have been too easy.

- Why do you have to be such an idiot? – Lyndon grumbled under his nose, already knowing it wasn't entirely fair.

The Templar had been through his own version of hell up to that point in Ureh. Gods knew what he could be thinking now. Nothing pleasant, for certain…

Finally, by some miracle Lyndon spotted Kormac after a good half-an hour wandering. The knight was holed up in one of the very artistic artificial ruins, staring blankly into a small campfire as he sat on a larger stone block like a sack of potatoes. Lyndon stopped, gathered his calmness and walked up to the man. He stopped in the doorway of the "ruin", leaning against the jamb.

- You okay? – he asked, knowing full well just how futile it was.

No answer.

- Stupid question, sorry – the scoundrel sighed. – But honestly, Kormac. I know it's pretty shitty for you. I just want to know if you are going to be alright on the long run. Is that fair?

- Leave me alone – Kormac grumbled, not turning away from the fire.

- Kormac.

- Leave me alone.

- I am not leaving until you answer me.

The ex-Templar scoffed at this. Lyndon only shrugged. To be fair, they had never been the closest of friends, not even after all that insanity they had been through by the side of Johanna. A certain understanding and a kind of mutual grudging respect and slight friendship had been there, but Lyndon wouldn't necessarily trust Kormac with everything. And he knew the ex-Templar had felt the same. That is, before he got brainwashed by Johanna and tried to kill his former friends in Tyrael's home. Still, Lyndon did not want to just abandon Kormac.

- Look… I—kind of get what you are going through – the scoundrel sighed, staring off into the distance. – I too had to face quite a few…sudden changes in my life lately. Things I had taken for granted are no longer true now, and I am something completely different than what I originally thought I was. It's an overwhelming thing, I know.

Still no answer.

- … I am sorry about Eirena – Lyndon turned back to Kormac.

Immediately the ex-Templar sprung to his feet, his armor rattling and he stared daggers at the scoundrel.

- Do not speak her name! – he hissed.

- She was my friend as well. I have every right to – Lyndon withstood the glare without flinching.

Right there and then he realized he was actually above Kormac, as far as power went. And above most humans as well. It was an incredibly weird feeling, and definitely not a pleasant one. He did not want to be "better"… but Lyndon shelved that troubling notion for now.

- If you truly think that, how can you cuddle that traitor?! Tyrael killed Eirena, did he tell you that?! – Kormac snarled, clenching his fists.

- He did. And he will tell me the exact details as well – Lyndon nodded. – It's terrible, that is why I am truly sorry.

- Then?!

- Whatever the hell had happened, I am damn certain Tyrael wasn't snooping around there like a demon, gleefully plotting Eirena's death – Lyndon's face darkened. – It wasn't premeditated, whatever happened.

- How would you know?!

- We both know Tyrael, Kormac. Maybe Eirena had forced his hands.

- She would never, you fool!

- You two had been hunting us, if you recall – Lyndon remarked in an ice-cold tone.

Kormac shut up, but his eyes threw lightning.

- So what now?! – he found his voice again. – Are you here to have me "force your hands"?!

- No. I am here to make sure you will be alright.

Lyndon moved almost before Kormac did. He stopped the armored fist flying at his face with his own gloved hand, barely feeling the collision. After a moment of pause, he forced the fist down and away from his face. He was well aware that he only had to exert a bit more effort to crush the bones in there. But he didn't.

Lyndon was a Nephalem now, whether he liked it or not. He had to be mindful of his own strength.

- Back in that meadow, I could have stabbed your head through without you ever seeing me coming, but I didn't want to hurt you – Lyndon pronounced slowly, not breaking eye contact with the bewildered ex-Templar. – We protected you from Johanna and the undead in the city. Myriam and Ashava both gave their lives so we all, including you, could escape from that hellhole. I had wanted to get all of you out of Johanna's clutches, and I am willing to swear that on whatever you want me to.

He let go of the fist and Kormac flinched back.

- It hurts like hell that Eirena and Myriam and Ashava are dead – Lyndon went on with a hoarse voice. – And I understand that you were very close to Eirena. Trust me, I get it. I get it far fucking more than you realize. You are angry, you are confused, you are grieving. But how about you stop being an asshole?! How about you leave Tyrael the hell alone and admit that you also messed up in this shitshow, huh?!

Kormac screwed his eyes shut, he pulled up shoulders, his armor shaking. He clenched his fists again and he ducked his head. It honestly looked like he wanted to scream or literally blow up, and Lyndon prepared himself for whatever would be coming. He trusted his foresight to help him out again.

But then, Kormac took two deep breaths and he visibly forced the tension out of his body as much as he could… which wasn't much, but the effort was there.

- Just… leave me alone… please – he breathed heavily, and quickly wiped his eyes before tears could escape from them. – It's… too much. alright? I need to think so much and… and it's really fucking difficult, alright?!

Lyndon let his own tension go and he finally stood straight.

- I get it – he nodded, his voice soft again. – If you need help, you can find me or anyone else from the group. Alright?

-… Right.

And with that Lyndon left. Now that everyone was checked up on… Oh wait. No.

There was one more.

Lyndon ground his teeth together, as he noticed a distant dark corner of the garden. Willows and thick bushes cast deep shadows across the place there. That gloomy freak, Rathma, or whoever. Apparently, he had been quite the busy asshole during Quiet's travel, his final change of heart be damned. The scoundrel could practically feel his eyes turning green at the thought, he took a long hissing breath. On what grounds was that bastard still hanging around?!

Lyndon stopped, closed his eyes, then turned around, away from the dark patch of the garden. He would return, but not alone. He didn't trust himself to keep a cool head, but he knew Tyrael was probably right – Rathma could easily kill him despite his own Nephalem powers. The scoundrel wouldn't risk getting murdered because of his own stupid emotions, not now when he was reunited with his firefly.

Lyndon began his walk back towards their cottage. He needed to clear so many things up with Tyrael.

oooOOOooo

- From the beginning, please… After I absolutely messed up that teleportation in the Blood Marsh.

Tyrael nodded, gathering his thoughts. A part of him drew parallels between how clumsy Lyndon had been back then, and what an absolute master of teleportation he had become. Almost on the level of Itherael himself. And the foresight ability… perhaps the scoundrel had some renegade Fate angel blood in him from generations past.

They were not too far from Lyndon's and Quiet's cottage, sitting on a bench side by side, surrounded by thick foliage for a more private conversation. There was nothing else there with them, but the breeze. Focusing back on the present, Tyrael took a deep breath, and started his tale. He tried to make it brief while also not leaving everything important out. From their starting animosity with Quiet back in Corvus, the sudden appearance of an actual god, the return to Westmarch and Sophie's diplomacy between them. And of course the insane catastrophic road after that. Lyndon mostly stayed silent, only a few times did he interject on certain things, it was mostly his facial expressions that did the commenting.

- Wait… Amaniel is still here! – Tyrael gasped with the realization when he got to the hidden grotto part with that strange rock and stream.

- Who?

- The angel in the grotto! I haven't seen her, but I have seen her picture in Solum. She was with Tuon, they were a couple.

-… We are going to have to tell that to the little guy later – Lyndon's eyes lit up with slight joy. – I don't know if you've noticed, but Tuon's rather… alone here. Poor guy has had it rough lately, from what he had told me.

- Dear Anu, so many things to address – Tyrael sighed.

Recapping everything to Lyndon felt so surreal. Everything just sounded so improbable, so wrong even to Tyrael himself it was almost hilarious. He sincerely wondered if anybody else had ever had this much of a terrible journey across Sanctuary in its history. Perhaps the original Horadrim's quest to hunt down the Prime Evils came close or even surpassed it, but that was just about the only other contestant that came to his mind. Watching Lyndon's face, it wasn't just Tyrael who felt appalled by the story either. At Rathma's various attempts, the scoundrel's eyes turned shining green in his silent rage, but he stayed on the bench, thankfully.

- I'm gonna need your help when I check up on that piece of trash, Tyrael – he growled lowly at the Eastgate Keep fiasco. – Otherwise I will definitely try to murder him.

- I will do my best to be the mediator in the situation – Tyrael nodded tiredly.

It was difficult to get through the Meridian fight and his embarrassingly foolish outburst on the shores of Kehjistan, but the mortal angel forced the words out of himself. He half-expected Lyndon to just lash out and chop off his head with a dagger right there and then but the scoundrel didn't even twitch.

- And then… Eirena – Tyrael breathed, feeling his throat seize up.

- What happened? – Lyndon asked in a low voice, that sounded surprisingly encouraging and somber.

Rage and accusations would have been far more appropriate, the mortal angel thought.

- I-I don't know… We were ambushed by Mephisto's remaining cult and—I tried to fight but I realized she was on the same side as them and… And I just completely lost control – Tyrael stammered, helplessly staring before himself as he tried to remember the events.

His mind had tried to lock most of it away, he realized with dread. Some flashes were painfully sharp, others muddy beyond recognition – but the picture of Eirena fighting alongside the Zakarum priest against the attack of the gods lived vividly in him.

- I just felt… so much rage and hatred at the betrayal, and-and Inarius's foolishness and the whole forsaken journey, it was like the thickest storm I have ever been to, and it all erupted and I—I killed her in cold blood…

He needed a moment to realize he was crying. He completely shrunk back on the bench, almost collapsing in on himself, and found no strength to somehow straighten his back.

- I'm so sorry – he finished with a broken voice, no idea whom he was even apologizing to.

Not that it would do any good to anyone.

Suddenly, Lyndon was embracing him. The scoundrel had his arms wrapped around the mortal angel's shoulders and he was slowly slapping his back with one palm.

- I'm so sorry too.

Tyrael reciprocated the gesture, crushing the smaller man against him. He didn't know what he felt in that moment, his mind drowned in sadness and guilt and fear. He didn't know why Lyndon was there with him, part of him was grateful, part of him felt he did not deserve it. Eventually they pulled away, Tyrael slumping back and Lyndon quickly wiping his few tears.

- Honestly, I'm—I'm very sorry you had to go through all that – the scoundrel took a deep breath, somewhat composing himself. – Gods, this sucks.

- I have thought about… ending my life. It would be appr—

- What, no! Don't even think about that! – Lyndon snapped his head back at him with wide fearful eyes.

- Lyndon, I have killed a mutual friend – Tyrael whispered in a tortured voice.

- No! I mean—I mean – Lyndon stammered, his pupils dilating from desperation.

He suddenly stopped, screwed his eyes shut, freezing in his pose. Tyrael waited and wiped off his tears. The scoundrel quickly unfroze, recollecting himself with titanic effort.

- You have gone through so much shit, Tyrael – he began slowly, gathering his thoughts. – I can't even fathom it, all that insanity, Rathma's murder attempts, everything going wrong, the Meridian, it's—it's all too much, for-for anyone, really. And you are not even human, taking all that stuff in must have been hellish… fuck, anyone would have snapped in your place. Really anyone.

- I doubt they would have killed their friends…

- Eirena was hunting you, she was hunting us! Kormac was ready to kill you in Ureh, she might have been ready too. I-I absolutely fucking hate everything about it, but honestly I can't say-say that I wouldn't have done the same in that shitstorm you'd been in – Lyndon insisted, his voice falling apart again.

- Lyndon—

- H-hell, I can't talk either! Myriam killed herself with a dagger of mine, because I was too stupid and too focused on Quiet's safety to even notice her taking it! Her death is my fault, Tyrael, and it sucks—it pains me so much – the scoundrel's voice died off at the end and he stared before himself emptily.

Silence settled on the pair after so long. Tyrael took a deep breath, turning his gaze away.

"To the deaths of millions. Brother."

- All I ever did was to bring misery and death to this world – he said softly. – From the moment of my fall, I was raising the dead against New Tristram.

- That wasn't your fault! – Lyndon glared at him. – Did you have any idea at all what would happen if you shed your wings, Tyrael? Or did you just take the plunge? Answer me honestly!

-… I did not know. But I should have anticipated something.

- Yes, and I should have anticipated that Rea would kill my brother and his children because of me, and that Myriam would kill herself with my dagger.

Tyrael relented, realizing there was no way to win this against Lyndon. He wasn't lying, he had thought about ending it all. He did not even know why he even brought it up to the scoundrel – obviously he would not be thrilled about the idea.

- I'm sorry – the mortal angel shook his head slowly.

- When we get back to Westmarch, we need to get you help.

- What I need is to come clean to Sophie.

- Yes, that too. And she will help you get some professional help.

- She deserves someone better, Lyndon.

- Let her decide that, will you? – the scoundrel's eyes turned piercing for a second and Tyrael immediately shrunk back from surprise. – She is old enough to make up her own mind.

- I did not mean to—

- I'm just saying, Tyrael. Let—her—decide. Alright?

- Fair. My apologies – Tyrael let out a defeated sigh.

- I'm certain there are some nurses in Westmarch who specialize in these type of problems – Lyndon mused aloud, crossing his arms and staring off into the distance. – Or, given your type, maybe some of the older scholars in the Great Libr—

The scoundrel froze up, eyes growing wide, then he hid his face in his palm.

- What's wrong? What is with the Great Library? – Tyrael blinked at him, his surprise slightly overriding his self-loathing.

- That's the headquarters of the Archivists, but that's not the important part – Lyndon mumbled, before glancing at Tyrael from behind his fingers. – You—you are sitting down. Okay. Got some news for you.

- Lyndon—? – Tyrael tried, but the scoundrel held up his hand, silencing him.

Lyndon took a couple of deep breaths, each time looking as if he really wanted to say something but couldn't bring himself to do it. Tyrael felt his worry skyrocketing at this. What news could the other bear? An apocalyptic threat? No, he said that was not it. Something about the Horadrim?

Something about Sophie?!

At the sixth deep breath, Lyndon was getting visibly fed up. He screws is eyes shut, squeezed the air out of his lungs and practically shouted:

- MalthaelishereonSanctuary!

- What?!

- Andwestoppedademonwithhishelp! – Lyndon quickly added slightly slower, cracking a single eye open.

Tyrael stared at the scoundrel, his entire brain going numb and empty.

- Wha-a-at?

- Don't freak out, please!

Tyrael suddenly understood very well what "freaking out" actually meant. The cold shivers that ran up and down on his spine while his brain still struggled to catch up.

- He's not the Angel of Death anymore! – Lyndon rushed to explain, his words picking up speed at a ridiculous pace. – The Arch rejected him, he landed in Corvus, he wanted me to kill him again so he can be reborn, but I refused but he followed me around, then we met Abd al-Hazir, you know, the worldt-travelling scholar, he is a pretty nice guy actually—

- H-how did you even find—Malthael?! – Tyrael pressed the words out of himself.

- I accidentally teleported to him from that stupid Waypoint thing, you know the one!

- And you want me not to freak out?! Too late for that! – Tyrael grabbed his head, he felt like his brain wanted to spin right out of his skull.

Malthael was here. The Angel of Death returned, what if he brought back his army, what if started reaping again, what if Sophie and everyone else was in danger—!

- Tyrael, breathe, for the love of gods! – Lyndon shook him by the shoulders.

- The Angel of Death is back! – the mortal angel gasped in panic.

- He is not Death anymore, I told you that!

- You cannot know that!

- I do! He has no magic, he has no aura, he was a useless bag of rocks right up until when he burnt his own skin off so that Maluus wouldn't control—

That was when Tyrael's mind thought it better to just take a plunge into the darkness real quick.

oooOOOooo

Lyndon grabbed the suddenly slumped Tyrael with a shout and with some titanic effort he managed to haul him back onto the bench into a stable sitting position.

- Group leader, my ass! – he shouted at himself. – Great job, me!

He colossally messed this one up, there were no two ways to go about it. He didn't even know what came over him. The absolute disaster of a journey Tyrael had told him about, Quiet almost dying multiple times, Rathma being a grade A asshole and Eirena's death and Johanna's insanity really raised his own inner turmoils and Lyndon just lost control over his mouth. He should have prepared Tyrael better for this explosive news, he saw how bad the mortal angel was off!

Lyndon stood up and lifted Tyrael up bride-style. Nephalem strength or not, the mortal angel should not have been this light.. Still muttering curses at himself under his nose, Lyndon took Tyrael back to the cottage and once again placed him onto his own hammock, making sure he didn't accidentally swallow his tongue. As messed up as the situation was, Lyndon figured he could use this time to actually think about what he was going to tell Tyrael.

- What a novel concept – he mumbled to himself.

- Papa?

The scoundrel turned around to find Quiet blinking up at him owlishly. The word sent shivers down his spine but they weren't unpleasant, just incredibly weird. Frankly, he had a hard time believing his fatherly role still.

- Hello there, firefly! Did you sleep well? – Lyndon quickly rushed to his side, hiding his worry behind a smile.

The child's torn wing worried him greatly. Would he still be able to fly? Was there a way to heal it? There had to be, right?! Surely wing-injuries were a common thing in the Eternal Conflict, there is no way the angels didn't have something for it!

… Then again, keeping Quiet the farthest possible away from the High Heavens was also an important task for many reasons. Lyndon shook his head in frustration, refocusing on the present. He will worry about a solution later.

- Y-yes – Quiet mumbled then widely yawned. – I met the gods.

- You did? What were they like? – Lyndon sat down in the basket chair.

So the gods finally talked with their Allfather. Lyndon wondered what they were thinking about him and Tyrael as Guardians. Possibly "complete failures", and with good reason too.

- There were very many of them – Quiet blinked again, rubbing his eyes with his uninjured hand. – There were people and trees and a whirlwind and a big turtle-rock thing and a man with a campfire for a head…

- I've met that one too! Ytar – Lyndon smiled widely. – Quite the hothead, that one. But he is very helpful.

- Yes, he talked a lot. And the rock turtle too, Zaim.

- I hope they weren't rude to you.

- No, no – Quiet was slowly waking up, he opened his eyes wider. – At first they were all afraid that I would be angry with them. I didn't understand why, they didn't do anything wrong.

- I'm guessing because you got hurt – Lyndon said softly.

- Y-yes, but I told them it's not their fault. And then they told me they were ready to serve me. And that they really liked me because I created them…

The child fell silent, clearly thinking. Lyndon moved quickly as Quiet tried to sit up, and gently supported his charge, taking extra care not to actually touch the injured wing. He set the angel against a fluffed pillow. Quiet glanced down at his stretched out pale wing but quickly turned away.

- Well, that is the least they can do, I reckon – Lyndon nodded.

-… I told them that wasn't me – Quiet mumbled, looking at his heavily bandaged arm set in a splint.

- Quiet?

- I mean… I mean… – the little one struggled for words but couldn't find them just yet.

Lyndon suddenly had this incredibly strong feeling that his firefly just stumbled upon something very important. So he didn't push it, he waited patiently for the pieces to come together. If there had to be some kind of point to this absolutely fucked journey, then please let it be it, whatever it was.

- I mean… Inarius is a part of me. And so is Worrldston. I know that. They both did a lot of things. Very many things – Quiet slowly started, furrowing his invisible brow in concentration. – Some people really liked them in the past. Some really hated them. Like that stoopid mean pale snake-smoke-man Linaarian.

Lyndon couldn't help the snicker that escaped him, and Quiet turned to him, chuckling as well. They settled down quickly and the little angel went back to his explanation:

- Some people still like me or don't like me because of them. Teeriel didn't like me either. But when we travelled, he learnt I wasn't Inarius… because… because I am not Inarius. I did not do all those many things, I don't know how to. He did all that and-and created the gods too. But I am still very small and young, and I still need to learn a lot from you, papa, before I can be as big as he was.

He stopped for a second, collecting his thoughts:

- I am… I have made a few people change their minds about me. Teeriel. Linaarian. The gods now. And I have made friends with people who didn't know who I was but who were very kind. I helped people who didn't know who I was. I made friends with Ashava and Adenah and Izba again, because I was very skerred of them at first, but they were very kind.

- Tyrael told me you have done a lot of good during the travel. I am very proud of you – Lyndon earnestly smiled at his charge.

In fact, he could almost physically feel that pride growing inside him. He was seeing where Quiet was going with this line of thought. And honestly… Lyndon could not be happier for him.

The little angel fluttered his healthy wing as he smiled up at him. His injured one didn't even budge.

- And—and there were others who did not want to change and wanted to not like me. Those stayed the same.

- Some people just never change, Quiet. Even when they should.

- And… so when I met the gods, I didn't… I didn't feel like I deserved their friendliness, you know papa? So I told them… that I was very grateful for all their help and their kindness, but I wasn't Inarus, I am Quiet, and I didn't do anything to earn their friendship. And then I introduced myself and Ytar was the first to say hello, but the others did too. And now we know each other a bit at least. And I told them I want to be friends with them and I will need their help because I want to be good… and I want to be Quiet.

Another pause.

- So… so that's what happened – Quiet finished after a moment of thinking whether he wanted to add anything more.

Lyndon leaned forward and gently kissed his charge on the forehead. Quiet blinked up at him in surprise.

- You have no idea just how much you have grown – he whispered, hugging him carefully.

Quiet sniffled and returned the hug:

- I missed you papa.

- I missed you too, firefly…

Despite all the darkness, all the loss, Lyndon felt lighter right there and then. Quiet was still here, he was still alive – and beyond that, he was wiser than ever. Hell, perhaps wiser than some adults. Among the multiple failures, Lyndon was just immensely relieved that he hadn't lost his little firefly. There was still a sun above the clouds.

- And I'm so proud and grateful to have you as my son, Quiet.

His son.


Damn, Tyrael, you are right. So many things to address. This is what happens when the gang meets up an entire act later. Bear with me, cupcakes.

Lyndon, you gotta work on your communication skills, man. But at least finally the family is properly reunited! :D

Thank you all for your patience, for reading and commenting! See you all next chapter!

Lore & Trivia Corner

Would you look at that – first time I cannot actually add any background info here. That's honestly surprising, I'm not used to it. O.o