Thank you all very much for your reviews again :-) Lol, now I know why I get reviews, there are a few girls actually playing and reading Diablo eheh! So, here is the end of the game storyline. See what happens when Tyrael reached the Worldstone's chamber…

Chapter 9. Intervention

Tyrael felt the snapping of his bonds, as Baal was defeated. He heard, in the angelic innerspeech, Michael and the others entrust him with the task of destroying the Worldstone, and see to the conclusion of the saga of Baal's Soulstone; at least, they had the wisdom to admit what had to be done, and the humility to give this task to him.

He lost no time in descending upon the world of Sanctuary and into the Worldstone's chamber. Jamella and Malbu saw him start to pronounce power words of great magnitude, then the ground opened under him, and he disappeared into it, his wings folding upright.

Tyrael slowly descended into the Worldstone's chamber, quickly spotting Atsanit next to Tal Rasha's body. He floated gently down towards her, and she lifted her head to look up at him, when she perceived his light.

He saw the tremendous effort she made to lift her body from the ground, her pride in not letting her weakness keep her on the ground before him. He sensed the weight of a ton in her heart that she had failed. He extended one of his wings' filaments to help her up. Her face was covered in ashes, and tears had traced down her cheeks, washing out the ashes. When he came nearer, he began to hear her whistling breathing and, quickly scanning her wounds, he saw the opening of a spirit that had escaped her ribcage, when it could not kill her. He knelt besides her, and put his hand to her wound, making her wince, and pronounced a single word of power. He felt the wound close and the blood drain from her lungs under his fingers.

She blinked, looking at him.

"I… thought you could not help me directly," she said.

"I could not, you are right. But my intervention in this particular matter has been warranted, and I will give you my assistance."

He helped her up, his wing holding her arm gently. He told her that the Worldstone had been corrupted, and that the only way to ensure Sanctuary's safety was to destroy it.

"Then I have failed to the end," she stated, and he sensed the shame she was feeling.

Tyrael, dark Tyrael, plagued with responsibilities and a duty to the world a mortal could not really comprehend, burst into laughter.

"If you wish to place blame somewhere for the Three freeing themselves and accomplishing this much, place it on me," he said to a really puzzled Sorceress. "I have given them the Soulstones. I have been betrayed unknowingly by one of my lieutenants, the greatest warrior of Heaven's armies, who gave the knowledge of the Soulstones to the Three. I have failed to see Marius's threat, and have lost my fight to the Wanderer, allowing him to free Tal Rasha, utterly failing in my duty to guard the Lord of Destruction, so that Tal Rasha's sacrifice was not in vain. I, an Archangel. While you, a mortal, have defeated the Three Prime Evils in a one-on-one combat, have secured all of the Soulstones, and have even had the strength of heart to show compassion to those that fell to the Three's power and that you defeated. You have succeeded all through the end where I failed. Now it is in my power, because you have allowed it, to stop forever a threat of the Hells invading this world. And I will do it, Hero, in your honour, and Sanctuary will forever remember your name."

She looked at him, completely subdued. Then she made a slow smile. "Well, sir preaching Archangel, I sense I will have trouble not to presume too much of my role in the unfolding events in the future."

Tyrael smiled under his hood, but she could not see it, of course. It was barely a minute since he had descended from Heaven to this place, but the chamber was starting to shake more violently.

"You must now go back to safety, Hero." He turned, and lifted a hand to trace a portal into the air, but she put a hand on his arm. It was a most presumptuous gesture, but Tyrael did not even notice. He turned to her.

"Can I not see?", she asked. "Can I not see the final act of my quest?"

Tyrael considered. "I will grant it to you," he accepted.

He walked slowly to the bridge of stone, and faced the Worldstone. Atsanit walked after him, staying a certain distance from him.

"Please, from now on, do not move," he asked, half turning to her. She nodded wordlessly.

Then she saw him turn to face the Worldstone. His wings expanded suddenly, and started to wave forward and backward, their spread growing from ten meters to nearly a hundred. His wings also gained a special appearance, a sheen of blue waving between the white filaments of light. She saw him unsheathe his holy sword, and rest the tip on the stone floor. He put one knee on the ground, closing his hands on the hilt of the sword, and bent his head.

Atsanit was shaken when he pronounced the first word of power. He was talking in a really low voice, but his words echoed through all the chamber and she felt the drumming of their power within her chest. His wings expanded yet, as he was chanting the power words one after the other, so very powerful. Suddenly a lightning shot from the roof, and hit one of the pillars on each side of the bridge. Atsanit jumped, but obeyed Tyrael, and did not move, looking as the pillar lighted with a blue-white flame, and Tyrael continued his chanting.

A second lightning soon shot, and the second pillar started to burn with holy fire. Atsanit turned her eyes to Tyrael, and she saw his sword take a golden glow, suddenly glowing fiercely as Tyrael finished his incantation. He stood and hurled his sword with all his angelic strength to the Worldstone.

Atsanit covered her eyes with a hand as the sword collided with the Worldstone's surface, which exploded in a great light. She lowered her hand to see the surface starting to undulate as a portal's interface did, the waves expanding outward from the point of impact. Tyrael's wings suddenly stretched in the air as a screen, and Atsanit saw shards of stone collide with them, and spare her.

She looked up and down as a flaw was running the Worldstone up and down from Tyrael's sword, and started to shatter. Atsanit looked, and felt the shattering stir something deep in her heart. Its magic was being vanquished, and it was a strange sensation. Then the flaws began to multiply, and the shattering accelerated.

Tyrael's wing shot backwards, gripped her wrist tightly, and she was carried with him through space as he gated them out of the Worldstone's chamber.

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They set foot in reality again in Pandemonium fortress. Atsanit merely blinked, still in shock before the display of power that had shattered the Worldstone. Tyrael's wing let go of her wrist, and she jumped.

She turned to look at the Archangel. Tyrael was a little further away; he was down on one knee, his wings falling out of the air to the ground, where they were waving slightly, and she saw that he was shaking. She stayed there in silence a second. She lifted her head to look at Malbu and Jamella rushing to see what was happening, but they soon saw Tyrael on his knee, and decided not to disturb him.

Atsanit walked slowly until she faced the Archangel. She wondered if it was because of her presence that he was so drained, having to protect her from the shards of the Worldstone and to gate her here, or if it was the mere power necessary to shatter the Worldstone that had taken its toll. She knelt in front of him, looking up into the shadow that hid his face. She would have wanted to see his face. He was tall and, even if he had his head lowered, she still looked up into his hood. She put a hand on his arm. His wings twitched around him, but he said nothing.

"Is there something I can do for you?", she asked, honestly.

There was a silence, before he said: "No, Atsanit."

She nodded, but let her hand on his arm for a while, and he felt clearly that it was how she would have accompanied a friend in a moment of weakness. Then she seemed to remember how presumptuous it was, because she removed her hand. Faced with his continued silence, she stood and took a step back. His wings were already starting to lift into the air once more. She waited in silence, patiently, for half an hour, his shaking subsiding, and his wings waving up into the air once more. Then, he stood, but stayed still and silent for another half an hour. Atsanit was looking at him, standing in front of him, shifting from foot to foot occasionally.

At length, he walked up to the hearth. He took one of the holy swords there, one that was burning with a white fire, with red runes along the blade, murmuring a prayer as he took the hilt.

He turned to Atsanit. "Now it is time to destroy the last Soulstone," he said.

She nodded. "If you would allow me to wield the Hammer once more, Tyrael, so that I can go to the Hellforge."

Tyrael took the Hammer from the display at the hearth, and presented it to Atsanit. She bowed slightly before she took it from his hands, and strapped it to her back.

"If you would allow me, Atsanit, I would help you in this task, and be witness to the last of the Prime Evils being banished forever," he said then.

She stopped. "I would be honoured," she answered. There was a silence. "Although I do not understand. Are you not forbidden by Heaven to take direct action into the fight?"

"Not against Baal," was Tyrael's answer. He knew Heaven would be incensed at this unnecessary intervention, but it was not the first time he stood up to Heaven's wrath, and he had in the past for worse reasons.

"Very well."

They used the stonegate to go to the River of Fire. Demons inhabiting the area turned to them, and Atsanit felt their unease as they saw an Archangel, the one known to them as the Warrior Archangel, drawing a holy sword. She summoned her defensive spells, and Tyrael started forward, walking or floating when it suited him, his wings waving on each side of him, his sword wielded with unequalled skill in all the planes. There was hardly anything for Atsanit to do behind him; even her Ice Orbs hardly had the time to reach anything before demons were vanquished by Tyrael's holy sword. He was fighting gracefully, skilfully, with speed and grace no human possessed. He used his wings to push away the demons; the lesser demons ran in fear before the mere sight of the light he was producing with his wings and armour.

The divine fury pushed through the demons' ranks effortlessly, and the disorganized demons, without their marechal Hephasto, without their King, and without their Three Prime Evils, were lost to the sword of Tyrael or to the spells of Atsanit.

The Archangel and the mortal reached the Hellforge. Atsanit took Baal's Soulstone out of her pack, and set it on the Anvil. She took a breath, taking the Hammer, and thought of all that was about to shift into the past. She thought of the Barbarians that felt like they had failed their duty in letting a stranger climb their mountain and defeat Baal in their stead. She thought of their duty that was finished, of the Worldstone's magic that was gone from Sanctuary because of the ambition of the Three.

Tyrael started to grow worried at Atsanit's apparent hesitation to shatter the Soulstone. As he was going to say something, Atsanit said:

"Let it be the end."

She lifted the Hammer, her face becoming a mask of determination, and brought the Hammer crashing down upon the Anvil. Tyrael saw the clenching of all her body under the magic of the Hammer, and the Soulstone exploded into a dozen of lesser gems, balls of fire and dead spirits escaping it. The spirits swirled around the Hellforge, wailing in their torture, and finally were freed.

Atsanit staggered back, her limp hand dropping the Hammer to the ground, her vision blurry. It had been more demanding this time, maybe because of the Soulstone's power. Tyrael's wing steadied her. The cold of her hand was slowly creeping up her arm. She did not move. The Archangel floated to her, and blessed her as he had once before.

"Your triumph is complete, mortal," he said. "No one before you have faced, defeated and banished Evil as you have."

"And no one shall have to in the future, I hope." Her voice was deeply wary.

Tyrael let go of her shoulder with his wing. He opened a portal to Pandemonium, and dropped the Hammer through. Then he closed it.

"Are we not going back?", Atsanit asked. She was exhausted, and it was obvious in her voice.

"I will… take you back to Sanctuary," Tyrael said.

She nodded, not even asking where they were going; he sensed she thought he would naturally take her back to Harrogath. He opened a portal.

"Thank you, Tyrael, for… for everything." She searched for words an instant longer, but then she just bowed, and crossed the portal. He followed before she even realized that he had meant to accompany her.

It was the night in Sanctuary when they emerged from the portal. Atsanit lifted her head to look at the stars, barely showing through the ever-present clouds of the jungle, and then looked at her surroundings. She knew this place; it was a small clearing near the Zann Esu's village from where she was from. On one side of the clearing was a small pound, back to purity now that demons were gone, with frogs, Nature's frogs, signing their calming sounds in the night air. Then she saw the light indicating Tyrael's arrival. He let his wings put him on the ground on his feet, and made a gesture with his hand, his light dimming greatly.

"You took me back to Kehjistan?", she asked. "So close to the Zann Esu? Are you not afraid that one will perceive your arrival?"

He paused. "They have not," he answered. "Now, you should sleep, Atsanit."

"Here? Why… oh…", she said, as she yawned irrepressibly. And then, she surrendered to his will, recognizing a divine order in his voice, but did not care to fight it. She lay down on the moist floor of the jungle, in her armour, and fell asleep.

Tyrael unbuckled and removed her amour with his wings, careful not to disturb her rest. He stretched her cape on the floor under her. He blessed her once more, so she would not have nightmares, gifted her with a slight power word that would make her rest deeper, and started the long watch over her sleep.

He sat close to her, his wings waving a gentle light over her face in her sleep. He gathered his knees in his arms, a surprisingly human gesture, and watched her. He was surprised not to hear from the angelic council or from other individual Archangels. The incredible shift in their responsibilities with the end of the war with the Three maybe was knocking some sense into them.

He remembered the first time he had seen her, and the lesson of humility she had taught him. He remembered also the innumerable times when she had come back from fights on the threshold of death, her great courage and her determination in doing what needed to be done. He admitted to himself that not many angels had done the same. If there had still been any serious threat to fight for Heavens, she would have earned the right to be knighted an Archangel. But Tyrael was not sure any Archangel would ever be knighted again. It was a life not fit for mortals, whose minds could not always encompass all of their angelic senses, and no other mortal would be sacrificed for Heaven's sake unless a serious threat arose again. He wondered how he could explain it to her.

How he could also explain to her why he was here with her right now. He was very self-conscious for an instant, realizing an Archangel attracted to a mortal in this way was foolish. But he had a long life behind him, and he had never been a mortal. He was born a power of Heaven, bound to its rules and will, and he had strived more than once to overcome it. And he had never had a better reason before, and never known this yearning in his heart, not even for Paradise's light itself. He knew not how to explain it to her either. But she deserved to know, and he smiled to himself as he looked at her beauty in her sleep. He had set eyes on many a female angel's face, but nothing could compare with her in his heart. She shivered from the humidity and the cold, and Tyrael's wing made a blanket for her.

He had always loved the mortals, to many angels' dismay, and he was now discovering why precisely, in a most unusual way. His wing caressed her cheek in her sleep.

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WARNING: I've been writing ahead a bit, so I can proof-read later when the story has "decanted", and I quickly realized I'm going to have to do something. I either re-write a "lighted" version of the next chapter, or change the rating. I consider changing the rating, unless you all unanimously agree that it's not a good idea because you're all under 17 and would have to stop to read this story from this point on because the rating will be R. So unless you complain (I encourage you to express your views on the matter… I'm writing for you after all!), this story will be rated R when I post the next chapter in about a week. WARNING: THE STORY WILL DISAPPEAR from your default Diablo page, you'd have to manually change the rating selection at the top right. Just warning you so you won't think I removed the story. So, review and let me know what you think of the current chapter and of what I should do for the next one!