Chapter 13

The iron claws sank into the stone floor on the spot where Lyndon stood a second ago.

The scoundrel vaulted over the railing of the gallery, plummeting into the main hall of the house, rolling over his head upon landing. He got up, eyes kept on Rea, who pursued him with the same madness and relentless as the members of the Coven had in the past. She swiped and missed again, Lyndon plunged his dagger into her enormous arm, but she barely seemed to notice.

- You have always made things unnecessarily hard and complicated, Lyn! – Rea shouted angrily, her original deadly calmness finally gone. – Only you are left, and then I'll be free finally! Why don't you just lie down and let me kill you? For my sake?

Lyndon jumped and stomped into her face, sending her staggering backwards. Her nose broke and blood began flowing from it.

- You killed them! – the scoundrel accused her in a hysterical voice, while trying to find an opening between the demonic limbs with his dagger. – Why?! Why?! They loved you! Edlin would have done anything for you! Maya and Eric were healthy and clever, the most beautiful children a mother could ask for! How could you do this?!

- You have ruined me! All of you! – Rea shrieked and struck, missing the scoundrel only by a hair's length.

Lyndon's sixth sense was failing him, it could barely get through the storm of wild emotions in his head. Not that the scoundrel could have done anything against that. He just wanted this thing to die, no matter the danger or the cost! He attacked recklessly, and only his combat-experience saved him from being shredded into ribbons in the first five minutes.

- I should have listened to my father, instead of my foolish heart! – Rea went on, spitting blood everywhere, eyes twinkling madly. – Marry a noble, a rich trader, anyone but the nameless poor city guard! My life would have been perfect! But no! All of you are shackles, all of you dragged me away from that future! You have all ruined me! But I will erase you lot from my life. Then I can be myself again.

- You will never be yourself again! You will rot in Hell, bitch! – Lyndon screamed at him.

Never in his life had he felt like this before. This all-consuming need to kill this monster before him. There were no backup plans, no escape routes, or secondary motives. Just kill this murderous bitch and soak the floor with her blood!

He flew forward, dagger held high, and Rea swiped at him. This one time, his sixth sense could not get through the hysteria, and Lyndon was knocked aside, his right side shallowly torn up by the nails. He crashed into something hard and metallic, his head ringing from the collision. Pain exploded into him and he reached out blindly, fingers closing around some sort of sheet. He flung it and the next second Rea's demonic scream filled the air.

Forcing his eyes open, Lyndon realized he was lying among the parts of Edlin's armor which he knocked off of its display. He had managed to grab one of the plates and throw it like a frisbee, straight into Rea's neck. The monster staggered back, her neck halfway cut through, blood spraying from the wound. She struggled to pull the armor piece out of there. Lyndon struggled to his feet, one arm pressed to his stinging side, feeling his own blood soaking his coat there. The pain helped him focus, his emotions are somewhat forced back by the overwhelming power of the survival instinct, awakened by his injuries. He saw clearly that Rea was not dying: instead of collapsing and bleeding out on the spot, hopefully drowning into her own blood, the bitch remained standing, giant hands grabbing after the armor piece, iron nails racking her own clothes and skin in the process.

Lyndon turned around and ignoring his protesting side, hauled himself up to the gallery again, running deeper into the house.

- Zaboul, Lord of Wrath has given me power! – he heard Rea scream in a choked, almost bubbling voice. – I will have your head, Lyndon! I will skin you alive!

Lord of Wrath. The demon who must be behind Kingsport's downfall.

Lyndon desperately tried to recall the precise floor plan of the house. He couldn't allow himself to be cornered in a room, he could only run into those that had more than one doors. There were only few of those… and one of them was the kitchen. Lyndon ran in there, skidding across the stone floor that was covered in water and blood dripping out of the meat on the table. He smacked into the counter, gasping for air.

For a brief but dreadful moment he stopped and looked around. Human remains everywhere, bones, meat, a few chopped off limbs. He could no longer deny what he saw. He breathed, nearly retching from the heavy odors. Still, he forced himself to focus on the carnage and use the sight to give power to his rage and fear. The initial grief that flooded him was useless, he had to force it back.

Rea had killed others, not just his family. She hunted innocent people down in this confusion and fed on them.

Edlin had always said to think in small steps and always focus mostly on the goal right before you. Lyndon regained his footing through the knowledge of his immediate task:

Rea had to die today for all this.

And Lyndon would deliver, even if it was the last thing he'd ever do. He owed this much, not just to Edlin and his children, but to the Seven and Kingsport as well.

The scoundrel grabbed a large knife from the counter and dual-wielded it with his dagger as he heard heavy footsteps outside on the corridor. He bolted, but not for the door in which he came, but to a side one, mostly used by servants in the past. He tore it open and ran into the empty pantry, pressing himself close to the entrance leading to the corridor. He listened, and waited.

The wide paws stomped by his door. Lyndon waited for a few moments then exploded from the pantry behind Rea, slashing her back with both daggers before flinging himself backwards, away from the defensive swipe of the hands. Rea screeched and spun around, blindly striking out at her foe who was far away at that point.

Lyndon stared into the face of true horror, something not even Diablo could have ever conjured up, no matter how hard he would have tried.

His former one true love shambled towards him, eyes still gleaming madly. Her face was somewhat shredded by her own nails when she had tried to get the armor piece out of her body. Her head was fallen to the side like a ragdoll, half of her neck cut straight through, the slimy tubes of the respiratory tract and the gullet peeking out occasionally. Blood practically flowed from her neck, soaking her entire upper body, leaving a horrible trail behind her. Her blue dress was quickly turning red now that she had two fresh cuts on her back. Rea should have been dead but she kept standing her ground.

Lyndon raised his weapons.

- You killed your family for what? – he hissed. – Because we couldn't make your life perfect?! Because Edlin was imprisoned against his will and couldn't provide for you?! I've sent you money, every last damn dime I could spare to help you out! I've never abandoned you! None of us did!

- I don't need anything from you, Lyndon – Rea choked, pointing an iron nail at him. – That money was only good for attracting a small entertainment. You are no better than Edlin! Nameless orphans, destined to ruin everything you touch! Just look at me!

She lunged forward but Lyndon's sixth sense was clear now and he easily avoided her. She was no warrior, he realized. Never was. Despite her condition, she had no experience in a real fight, unlike he did. Lyndon latched onto this knowledge to somehow keep himself together.

- This is all your fault! All yours! – Rea shrieked, swiping blindly at him. – You whisked me away from that ball all those years ago and introduced me to Edlin! It was all your fault that I fell in love with that man and married him. Your fault that I bore two wretches for him. You and Edlin ruined me forever!

- Wretches – Lyndon echoed, parrying one blow with his weapons. – Maya and Eric… are they only wretches to you?! They were your children! Your blood!

He landed a cut on her chest then retreated quickly before she could retaliate. Their fighting led them back into the gallery over the main hall. Lyndon bumped into the railing.

- Wretches, shackles! – Rea spat blood. – Binding me to this miserable life. But erasing all of you from it will make everything better!

- So you made a pact with a demon – Lyndon hissed. – And doomed all of Kingsport to this chaos.

- I had to torture and kill quite a few mages before they finally complied and summoned him for me – Rea coughed. – He gave me power!

Lyndon's eyes flashed up in green and he flew forward, suddenly appearing behind Rea. The monster turned around but her arms were sliced off by the daggers covered in green light. The horrible limbs hit the ground with a wet thud and her screams of pain were cut short by a brutal kick in the chest that sent her flying over the railings and smack into the main hall's floor below.

Lyndon jumped after her, landing among the armor pieces of Edlin. He sheathed his dagger, threw the knife away and reached down for the city guard pike, eyes not leaving Rea's form a few meters away from him. The witch somehow struggled to her feet, her visage now completely ruined and covered in blood.

If Lyndon tried hard enough, he could almost convince himself that thing was not his former love.

- He turned you into a monster that slaughtered her own husband and children! And now he is unleashed upon Kingsport – he said slowly, accusingly, raising the pike and channeling the same green power into it without noticing. – All those people suffer and die because of you.

- No… ultimately, all of this is because of you – Rea whispered, grinning through the blood.

Lyndon flashed, appearing straight before the monster. He impaled her through the abdomen and smacked her into the ground so hard the floor cracked all around them. Rea screamed but it was cut short by the pike which exploded from the too much energy. Lyndon staggered back, feet slipping under him faster and faster until he smacked into the stone wall and slid into its base, staring at the mangled corpse before him.

And just like that, it was all over.

Lyndon heaved, unable to breathe properly. He was covered in blood, his own and Rea's. He pulled his knees up, raised his shaking hands to cover his face and he screamed into his palms from the top of his lungs. The dam finally broke and every last bit of grief, anger, terror of this last couple of days came pouring out in the form of his choked howling and tears. He curled up into a tight ball and screamed, nails sinking into his head from misery. His voice echoed among the stone walls of the abandoned mansion.

Minutes have passed, perhaps hours, before he finally ran out of strength and air to howl, and could only whimper and gasp through his tears. Lyndon struggled to force some air into his lungs, but he could barely do it. The shock and hysteria finally conquered him completely, and he just wanted to die right there and then to escape their terror.

He had killed his own family. He was all alone in this world.

- Leendonn?

The small voice was like a hard slap across his face. Lyndon snapped his head up from his hands, staring towards the entrance with a hunted look in his eyes. At first, he couldn't process what he saw: a small child-like form stood on the doorstep. Was it Maya? Eric? Did one of them escape Rea's madness after all?

- Leendonn!

The little child limped forward and Lyndon finally recognized the bottomless darkness, the white hair and the drooped wings of pure light.

- Quiet – he whispered, kneeling up from his position. – What—what has happened to you?!

The little angel was in horrible shape. His clothes torn and covered in dust, splinters and some kind of dark dried liquid. Through the holes, his pale shimmering skin was covered in cuts, bruises, ugly purple-colored spots and patches. There was a bite-mark on his shoulder, and bright blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. His legs trembled and finally buckled under him, and he fell forward, smacking into the blood-covered floor.

Lyndon jumped to his feet and ran there, gently scooping the angel up into his arms.

- K—kvaiiettt – Quiet struggled. – D-deemonn… bad…

His now dim red eyes closed for a few seconds. Lyndon cuddled him close to his chest.

- I'm sorry—I'm so sorry! – he stammered through the tears. – I shouldn't have left you behind! I should have never brought you here.

Quiet placed a tiny hand on his chest and mumbled with closed eyes.

- Leendonn arriyt… Kvaiett happy…

Lyndon gulped, one hand desperately trying to wipe the tears away. He pressed the angel close to him, placing a sloppy wet kiss on the top of his head.

He wasn't alone after all.

Not even sparing a final glance at Rea's mangles corpse, Lyndon left the house, trying to think of the fastest way to get back to the brothel. He limped out to the main street, only now realizing just how exhausted he was, physically and emotionally.

What he saw stunned him. People on the street were crying and hugging each other, instead of pointlessly fighting. They shouted words of praise and gratitude into the air, chanting "The demon is dead! Long live the Hero of Sanctuary!". Nobody paid attention to Lyndon and Quiet, they didn't even really stand out of the crowd with their appearance, as everyone was pretty much beaten up. City guards shook their pikes at the sky, shouting Johanna's name from the top of their lungs and many civilians joined them. In the distance, Lyndon thought he could make out the hazy contours of a crowd carrying a figure on their shoulders.

The scoundrel gulped and turned onto one of the side streets, zigzagging among the many buildings. The demon was dead, Kingsport freed. Lyndon had a horrible suspicion that Quiet survived the encounter with that Zaboul only because Johanna interrupted. Did she see him? Did she know they were here? Lyndon knew if she came after them now, they would have no hope of escaping.

On the way back to the brothel, Quiet fell asleep from the constant rocking, fingers curled around Lyndon's shirt. He looked peaceful and at ease despite his condition. Lyndon firmly held him as he climbed back into their room through the backyard window. He placed the angel on the bed then scouted the nearby rooms for anything he could use. He returned with bandages and healing salves. Washing off the blood from him and Quiet at least partially into the long cold bathing water, he quickly bandaged his charge up as best as he could, hoping that it would be effective on angels.

- Leendonn saad – Quiet mumbled, having woken up from the quick bath.

- I—don't want to talk about it, Quiet – Lyndon gulped, keeping his eyes on the small arm he was tending to. – But I'm glad you are still alive. No more splitting up, I promise.

- Prromisss?

- I promise.

- Gud – Quiet slightly nodded, looking out at the window. – Muunn pretty – he commented half-heartedly.

- It is very pretty, yes – Lyndon agreed.

- W—v—world no pretty. World badd.

- Yes, today was… very bad, for the both of us – the scoundrel sighed.

- Leendonn oww? – Quiet turned back to him, gesturing at his side.

Lyndon glanced at his soaked coat. He had completely forgotten about it, to be honest. The injury explained his light-headedness. He would have to treat himself as well.

- It's… not that bad – he shook his head. – I will bandage it and it will be fine.

- Huumanns baadd – Quiet frowned.

- Some humans are bad, yes. Like Rea. Or me – Lyndon said, his voice choking at the last words.

He realized he was crying again, and reached to wipe the tears off.

ultimately, all of this is because of you…

Quiet gently petted him on the forehead.

- Leendonn no badd – he chirped, trying to sound upbeat. – Leendonn fr—f—friend!

- If only things were that simple, Quiet – Lyndon sniffled, smiling sourly. – Thank you, though. You are a great friend too. But not all humans are bad. We—we were just very unlucky these days.

Quiet slightly frowned at him, didn't look all that convinced.

- Come on. We must go – Lyndon stood up, quickly undressing and tending to his own wounds. – Johanna is in the city. She cannot see us.

- J-Johhhhana badd – Quiet said, with the outmost certainty. – Big badd.

Lyndon glanced at his charge.

-… Yes – he admitted. – She is very bad now. Wasn't always like that. She was good once.

- Gud… badd? – Quiet gestured as if drawing an imaginary path between the two words into the air.

- People change, Quiet – Lyndon sighed deeply as he dressed up again. – Sometimes for the worst. Angels are very much the same. – he added, remembering the once supposedly revered and beloved Archangel of Wisdom.

Quiet seemed to ponder deeply on these words, even when Lyndon lifted him into his arms. The scoundrel left behind yet another money bag for Bertha, with a little note in which he apologized for leaving so soon and wished her the best, then slipped out to the backyard.

As Kingsport celebrated their savior, those two beaten and ravaged wanderers left its boundaries, slipping through the gates, melting into the dead of night.


END OF ACT I

'Twas a fine journey up to this point, made even better by your reviews along the way. Thank you so much, and I can't wait to keep going. ;) You guys are all amazing, and thank you for putting up with my pauses and random af twists at times.

Now, I believe I need another pause before I begin Act II. If you wish to read my reasons in detail, go ahead below. :)

So, as I have mentioned in the beginning, I have decided in what "method" I wish to write this story. That method I like to call "Wing it Till the Cows Come Home", and it's actually very simple: I have a really basic storyline pinned down so it is continuous and makes sense, but the rest is writing itself as I go forward. There were many scenes in Act I that I didn't plan for, Meshif Salavan with the seven figurines, the sea monster, and even Quiet's darker side against the pirates are among them. It is a kind of freedom I like to use for my fanfictions, and the end results tend to be always far better than what I have originally planned. As I can see from your reactions, it has paid off well here too.

Act II is still "in the making", so to speak. I have a few idea-fractures for it, including finally reaching Tyrael in Westmarch (originally I planned that to happen in Act I), but the core problem/conflict of this arc still eludes me. I have to pin those down before I can improvise the rest freely and without fear of fucking up the story line. I'm not sure when that will be, maybe a few days, maybe months (University's been a bitch lately with its exams). I thank you for your patience in advance.

TL;DR: I'm not sure when the planning of Act II will be ready, until then this story is probably going to go silent. Thanks for understanding!

The #1 rule is still relevant though: THIS STORY IS NOT DEAD UNTIL I SAY IT IS IN AN AUTHOR'S NOTE. Unless you see that bitch pop up among the chapters, keep calm and channel Auriel's Hope. ;) I have a lot of ideas planned, old and recent characters shown up, maybe even one or two OCs along the road. Not sure how many Acts will be there, four or more or less, I just wish to stay true to Diablo's structure with this idea. There is a lot to discover and chart, obscure and hidden lore details to dig up and place into the puzzle (like Zaboul, for instance).

Special thanks

To everyone who read and reviewed this story. Your comments propelled me forward, and I'm eternally grateful for them. You cupcakes are the best, I couldn't ask for a better audience.

Miss Gems, you act true to your name. ^^ Your long reviews, and constant brainstorming about what would come next were a treasure to read, they always made my day. And two fanarts from you! They really melted my heart! Here are the links to them (this dumbass system is getting smarter with the censorship though...):

fishyfiash . tumblr image / 169232735985

fishyfiash . tumblr image / 166621424950

Thank you so much, you are very generous! ^^

See you cupcakes around, and keep being awesome!