Chapter 21
Archangel of Justice trying to lie to himself, saying that everything was fine.
What a goddamn idiot!
Tyrael stormed along the main street of Westmarch, not even looking where he was going. He was too busy berating himself to pay attention.
Right, of course! Come live among humans, like they do. Try to organize a group of mages and warriors like in the old days, live with them, learn from them. That will help you fit in and find your place. As if! Tyrael didn't belong anywhere, and he would never belong anywhere. That was final.
He had actually believed that he had gotten over his fall. That was just ridiculous. Of course he didn't. It was the right decision at that time, he knew that well, but despite that, there was no denying that he missed his former powers, his majesty, his nigh-untouchable might. He missed flying, he missed hearing sounds and seeing colors the human senses could not pick up. He missed the times when his siblings in the Council did not look at him like he was an abomination or a mistake even (oh, he knew they were thinking that, even Auriel seemed unsure about him now). He missed being able to banter with Imperius without being afraid of receiving lethal injuries in the process.
He missed being an angel.
Right now, Tyrael was nigh-completely useless. His inexperience with mortal life hindered him in all the tasks he should have been doing to help Sanctuary. He had almost no powers to call his own, except for a few measly abilities that did very little most of the time. He no longer had Chalad'ar or Itherael's foresight to know what to expect. Tyrael felt anger at his helplessness, but more importantly, at his own brethren. They had turned on him faster than he could blink, even after he had helped them repel the demonic siege on the Silver City. His own siblings no longer trusted a word he said.
Balzael
Oh, how fast that little creep betrayed him! Tyrael had been the one to train him, so he wouldn't goddamn die from the first demon that came his way! Tyrael had been the sole reason Balzael had survived for so long, and even got elected into the Luminarei, the best of the best. But no. He left his court to serve Valor, then he tried to kill Tyrael, drugging him, humiliating him, doing everything he could to make sure the Black Soulstone stayed or fell into the wrong hands. His death had not been painful enough…
Tyrael shook his head, trying to reel himself in. Mortal emotions were so much more powerful than angelic ones, especially compared to his old self. As a being of Justice, and the clearest representation of it, Tyrael had always been very muted in the emotion department. He had been born with little to no feelings, for anyone or anything, in order to keep himself unbiased and as such, just. He hadn't been optimistic like Auriel, ever curios like Malthael in his glory days, worrying like Itherael, or blazing like Imperius. He had been more akin to moving a statue, than an actual living being.
Serving under me must have been hell…
Hard to say that for sure now. When Uldyssian proved them all wrong, it awoken something inside him, and Tyrael thought he finally knew what emotions were. But as he fell, he was assaulted with a myriad of feelings, each so powerful that they short-circuited his brain and no doubt played a big role in making him lose his memories temporarily. He had thought Imperius was the brazen and impulsive one, but Valor was a candle next to what inferno a few passionate humans could start up.
Tyrael threw himself down on a random bench besides the main street and buried his face into his hands, letting out a defeated sigh. He had been lying to himself up to this point, but now Inarius… Quiet, or however the hell he called himself now, voluntarily or involuntarily forced him to face his regrets and uncertainties. His little brother had always been a sly trickster: perhaps this stunt of his was to throw Tyrael off his balance.
Well… it worked. Well played, Inarius.
Tyrael felt like he should be panicking about the angel's presence, and how big of a hold he actually had over Lyndon. Was the scoundrel bewitched? He had been a professional con man, no way a mere trick could work this well on him. Worse yet, according to Lyndon's slip-up about those "world-altering abilities", Inarius somehow retained at least certain parts of the Worldstone's power. How did that happen?! Inarius had been absolutely powerless once Uldyssian managed to break his link to the stone. Everyone believed that was the end of the story.
Then again, Inarius had an impressive track record of baffling all of Creation and going headlong against every prediction Itherael or even Malthael could come up with. There had always been something strange and unique about him, a trait that either off-put or attracted those who come in contact with it. Tyrael had been the former category, but many, oh so many had chosen to follow him out of their own free will. Perhaps Lyndon was drawn in by that very, nameless trait. Inarius did have fanatic followers in the past as well.
One of them had been Hephasto, that poor idiot…
Yet despite all this, despite the possible looming danger of this megalomaniac, absolutely insane seraphim being let loose upon the unsuspecting world, Tyrael couldn't find the strength in himself to panic or take action or do… do anything, really. His entire being was paralyzed by the crushing sadness he felt upon looking at his former majestic self, he just couldn't get himself to worry about anything else.
In his inner struggle he finally lifted his head and realized where he ended up: literally opposite of the biggest hospital in Westmarch. The pristine building's expensive stone walls were painted white, a great contrast against the usual dark hue of the city. It had a small but well-kept flower garden running before its walls, only leaving the entrance and its stairs free. On its left wing, it even had creeping ivy give an extra dressing to the walls. Tyrael could see into one of the windows, make out blurry shapes moving around.
Sophie was in there, or perhaps on her lunch break right now. The fallen angel was so bewitched by her that even in his misery he sought out her presence.
Do not close yourself off from this chance, just because it brings something new into your life. Go for it!
Lyndon might be right. Tyrael should open himself up to this chance. After all, he couldn't recall a single instance from his past life where a being filled him such emotions and determination, like Sophie did. Tyrael thought about what a strange yet satisfying inner goading it was to make her laugh and smile as much as possible. He was literally incapable of being sad or uninterested around her: her curiosity, her love for life was infectious. When she was happy, he was happy, when she was sad, he wanted to do everything in his power and beyond to cheer her up, when—
… Oh no. By Anu, Sophie was in danger!
Tyrael felt his blood freeze up at this sudden realization, the gentle feelings torn apart by fear. Quiet's presence meant grave danger to all of Sanctuary… to Sophie. Tyrael sprung up from the bench, scaring the pigeons that started to gather around him.
He had to do something to save her, he had to—!
- Tyrael?
He spun around, every muscle ready to pounce at the danger.
- So—Sophie? – he blinked in confusion, his adrenaline-filled brain needed a few moments to process what he saw before himself.
The woman stood right in front of him, holding up a tray of bread full of lard and a few pieces of cooked bacon. Oh, so she was on her lunch break.
- Everything alright? – she asked, worryingly seizing up her boyfriend. – You look haunted.
- Sophie, I—! – Tyrael grabbed her free hand with both of his hands. – There might be horrible danger on the horizon. You must leave Westmarch now!
- What—what are you talking about?!
- Please, believe me. Is there a relative of yours whom you can go to? Far away from here?!
- Tyrael—
- I am not sure where is truly safe, but perhaps the more distance the better—
- Tyrael! – Sophie cried out, eyes angrily flashing up.
She could be very sparky when needed, a useful tool against thick-skulled patients in her field of work. It was also effective on Tyrael, who immediately snapped into a stand-to out of instinct, standing straight and rigid, hands pressed against his sides, eyes attentively kept on the woman, almost shouting "Yes ma'am!".
It took them an awkward moment of pause for Tyrael to realize his stance, and he quickly took on a looser one.
- I— – he stammered, feeling his face heating up.
It always happened when he was around Sophia. Maybe it was yet another symptom of this predica—chance he found himself in.
- Tyrael, you are not making any sense – Sophie scowled at him, shepherding him back to the bench and sitting down with him. – Slow down, please! What danger are you talking about?
Tyrael took a big breath, trying to calm himself down.
- I… believe an ancient enemy has returned to Sanctuary. Older than everything else here. I fear he will want to take his vengeance out on this world, maybe even erase it from existence… I think.
- You think.
- Yes, he's, uhm…
Wait, now he was supposed to tell her that it was a baby angel they were talking about?!
- Wait, you met this enemy? – Sophie's eyes widened. –Did he attack you?! Are you injured?! Let me see!
- Wha—no, no, I am well, really! – Tyrael backpedaled as the woman anxiously began fussing over him. – Nothing happened, we just… talked.
-… Really? – Sophie asked, instinctively clasping her free hand with Tyrael's.
- Yes, I mean… I talked with his, uhm… caretaker.
- Caretaker?
- More like guardian, maybe. Since he himself cannot really talk yet, so…
-… Is this "enemy" a child?
- Yes, how did you know? – Tyrael looked at Sophie with sincere bewilderment.
The couple blinked at each other, holding hands, sitting on a bench. From far away, it even looked idyllically romantic, and only from up close did the absolute surprise show on both sides.
- So… this world-eraser enemy is just a child? – Sophie tried to sum up.
-… I think so, yes. It is incredibly strange, such thing should not exist… yet here he is – Tyrael helplessly scratched his head.
- And you could talk to him and his caretaker – Sophie stated, dead serious.
- Yes.
- Without getting attacked.
- Yes…?
-… Are you sure you are not… I don't know, mixing up this "enemy" with this kid?
- No! Definitely not! I know him well! I mean—I knew him before he turned into a child – Tyrael stammered before giving up and slumping forward. – Look, it is complicated, alright?
- What is his name?
- Right now, he calls himself Quiet for some reason. But originally he was called Inarius.
- That… doesn't sound like a demonic name.
- That is because he is an angel.
-… An angel child? That… that sounds adorable, actually – Sophie blinked, musing aloud.
- Sophie! – Tyrael glared at her.
- What?
- Inarius is incredibly dangerous! He is the farthest thing from adorable!
Sophie remained silent for a second, deep in thought.
- Will he spare you if you talk to him again? – she finally asked, staring before herself.
- Yes, he will – Tyrael frowned in confusion. – Why?
- And are you certain… absolutely certain that he is here to destroy everything?
Tyrael wanted to say "yes", but he couldn't. Lying was nigh-impossible for him, just like certain people could not touch their toes, simply because they were born with less flexibility. He realized he wasn't sure about that question, and this scared him. Inarius had been a megalomaniac paranoid nerve-wreck who had been afraid of the very thing he himself created. Of course he would want to destroy it all!
… Also, Inarius had not been known for having the average height of a table, for being so clingy to a human (or anyone else), for preparing breakfast for others, for playing around just for the heck of it… or for being so shy and clearly lost.
- I… I do not know – Tyrael mumbled, completely defeated. – Last time, it had been his goal, yes, but… I am not sure about now.
- Is it possible that he changed? That he can be negotiated with? – Sophie asked, gently stroking the large hand.
… Was it? Things did look different than last time, Tyrael could not deny that.
- I… honestly do not know – he finally admitted, not even realizing the soft strokes grounded him enough to think things through. – He is vastly different than last time, I have to admit.
- Perhaps it would be wise to try and talk with this Inarius, no? – mused Sophie. – You've been fighting with so many foes, you know them well. But if you are not sure about this one, then perhaps we can avoid violence this time. Sanctuary had suffered enough, a possible peaceful solution for this next threat would be most welcome. Maybe if we do not attack him, he will not attack us. He is an angel, is he not?
- Malthael had been an angel as well.
- You told me he became "something else" in his pursue of human souls – Sophie pointed out.
Tyrael just sighed deeply, not knowing how to respond to this. It was true. Malthael had been able to go into the ruins of Corvus, a place that was shielded both from demons and angels. The spells only allowed Tyrael in because they weren't sure about him.
Not even security statues could decide what he was. That was just sad…
- You should try to keep things peaceful – Sophie urged him. – As long as he is not openly hostile, you shouldn't provoke him. Try to talk to him, see why he is here.
- I am not sure of the success of this policy – Tyrael stared before himself worryingly –, but perhaps you are right. So far he has done nothing ominous, that is true.
- Then, let us keep it that way? – Sophie stood up. – Do you need help with that? I can ask the head nurse to let me go early, and—
- By Anu, no! – Tyrael cried out. – I do not want you anywhere close to him! Just because I am not sure about him, doesn't mean he's not dangerous.
The couple had an angry glare stare-off, but this one time, Tyrael refused to back down.
- Please – he asked, almost pleadingly.
- Alright, alright – Sophie conceded, sighing deeply. – Just promise me you will try to resolve this problem peacefully. Mostly because I am so worried about you.
- I… thank you, you are very kind – Tyrael blinked, quickly losing his ground from surprise.
Sophie smiled at him sincerely and worryingly.
- Just, be careful, Tyrael – she quickly leant forward, planting a soft kiss on his nose.
Tyrael froze to his spot, so stunned he couldn't do a thing as Sophie rushed back inside the hospital, her lunch break long over.
oooOOOooo
It was safe to say that Lyndon's day was not exactly going on tracks.
He missed sleep entirely, had a half-a-day long argument with Tyrael, then he had to somehow comfort his charge who got mightily discouraged by Tyrael's reaction to his statue.
As they sat on the bed in their room, Quiet brooding in his lap, Lyndon was hard-pressed to explain the fallen angel's behavior to him.
- He is just sad – the scoundrel tried to say.
- He iz angry.
- No, he is not angry. You see, Tyrael is… I think he just misses his old life – Lyndon reasoned, and as he said it out loud, he knew it was true. – He had been a large and powerful angel in the past. He could fly, he was strong, he could easily defeat monsters of all kinds.
- Why he change?
- The other angels did not let him to help us, so he chose to get rid of his wings, and turn into human, in order to fight by our side against a big army of monsters that came to destroy our world.
Quiet thought for a moment.
- Teeriel is good. Right? – he finally concluded.
- Yes, he is very good – Lyndon smiled slightly. – He has his own flaws, and can be very annoying—
- Like Imperriuss?
- Like Imperius, exactly. But he is still a good guy, and tries to help as many people as he can.
Quiet looked like he was trying to say something, but instead he closed his eyes and tilted his head back a little. Lyndon knew he was yawning. The angel had spent much of his strength on that large statue in the courtyard.
- Come on, let's take a nap, firefly – the scoundrel offered, lying down on the bed and cuddling his charge close to his chest. – We both need some rest.
Quiet didn't argue, he was asleep almost the moment he got into a horizontal pose. Lyndon wanted to follow his example, only he couldn't help but think about Tyrael's reaction to his former self. The scoundrel had never really thought about this before, but the moment he told Quiet, he knew this was the truth: Tyrael missed being an angel. Lyndon felt bad for never considering this before, for not talking about it with him (what could he do, honestly? Offer therapy, with his own broken life and shitty despicable past?). He couldn't even begin to imagine how hard it must have been to give up all that godlike power and join a life he understood nothing about. Tyrael was either absolutely mad, or the bravest being in Creation. Perhaps both.
Finally, however, exhaustion won over, and Lyndon fell asleep as well. Only to have a terrible dream.
He could barely keep track of the insanity that suddenly descended upon him. He was falling vertically, then suddenly horizontally, ruins of chambers and corridors shimmering in blue light zoomed past by him. He was walking, stumbling over some dark, almost pitch-black textile that lied in his path. He was bombarded with insane flashes of color. He felt hunted, multiply pairs of eyes trained on him, yet no matter how much he tried to look around, he couldn't see the pursuers. He felt unconcern weighing down on him like a lead net, while the world fell apart around him, and he knew this feeling came from someone else, yet it was hard to fight off. He saw flashes of light and color, yet they filled him with dread instead of hope.
- Why you?! Why not me?! – roared a deep voice full of anger at him, and Lyndon had to duck from something huge sailing for his head.
This absolute insanity would have kept on going for who knows how long, but thankfully his own brain gave up trying to process it. Instead, Lyndon woke with a start, gasping for air. He found himself back in his bed, Quiet still snuggling and well asleep on his chest.
… Wait. Lyndon did not see Quiet in his vision!
The scoundrel took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down before he would accidentally wake up his charge. He wrecked his brain, trying to make some sense out of that hail of images and sensations, but the more time he spent with them, more certain he was of his original observation. Quiet really was not there with him, whatever this madness may be in the future. Would they be separated? Something worse?!
Lyndon anxiously patted the little angel's head. He knew he could change the future he saw, foreseeing attacks in order to dodge them was his main trick, after all. Could he change this one? Was there a way he could make sure that the separation did not happen?
He did not see what caused the missing of Quiet, though. Unlike for incoming attacks, when he saw the angle, the speed and even the type of the weapon, now he had no idea how he would end up in that ruined (yet familiar) place, nor how he would get separated from Quiet.
What did Myriam say to him?
Vecin focus their sight and see the future by not losing track of it, and forcing it to show and unravel itself, when we most need it.
Lyndon closed his eyes and tried to focus as much as possible, as angrily as possible. He tried to force his sixth sense to show the exact cause to that madness. For a while nothing happened, making Lyndon more and more frustrated. He was on the verge of having a mental argument with himself and cursing at his ability, when finally something gave away.
A flash of fire. A flash of sharp blue light.
What the hell was that?! What was he supposed to get from this?! Lyndon refused to back down, but despite his efforts, he only got these two lights, always in the same order, separated by a brief pause of nothingness. That was it. Lyndon angrily snarled as he finally gave up, opening his eyes.
The ceiling swam before him and an incredible wave of pain washed over him. He gasped, mouth being filled with bile as nausea took over out of the blue. He tried to sit up, but the entire room was dancing madly around him. His head rang and throbbed like someone was using it as an anvil. He thought he heard Quiet calling out to him, but he couldn't be sure. Lyndon flailed around helplessly, suddenly losing his control over his own limbs. He stumbled out of the bed and smacked hard into the floor, the pain in his head growing more and more terrible by the second. He stared at the floor as it spun around before his eyes, the pattern of the wood trying to twist around and take up shapes.
Lyndon was sure he was about retch, but the inky darkness of unconsciousness dragged him down under first.
HAA! I WON! FUCK YOU, WRITER'S BLOCK!
You guys ever have those embarassingly painful moments while pursuing your hobbies? You see that little scene with Tyrael and Sophie. That shit took me four tries. Four FUCKING TRIES! And even now I'm not sure whether or not it is good, but this was the fist version I felt kind of okay with. I don't get what thell was that shit about, but that sole dumbass scene kept this chapter from being done sooner. Gods damnit...
ANYWAY, I'm here now, and hopefully back on track. Maybe. I dunno. I can't be sure about anything, after this struggle...
I solemnly promise you, cupcakes, action shall kick up in the next chapter! Until then, take care and keep being awesome! ;)
Smaller trivia: Hephasto (named after the Greek God of the Forge, Hephaestus) is the demon who guards the Hellforge in Diablo 2. According to D2's lore (which is PRE-Sin war trilogy, remember that), Hephasto had been a follower of Inarius, his personal weaponsmith, and even remained with him on Sanctuary, taking the fight tothe Triune's main temple and even destroying the entire place. Mephisto got so enraged by that he captured the angel and corrupted him into the demon he is now. Most demons know NOT to bring his past up, unless they want to be used in the place of the Anvil of Annihilation. Now, this story and Inarius' D2 backstory in general goes way against the story established in the Sin War trilogy, which is now considered canon. So Hephasto couldn't be here on Sanctuary. Still, he could have been a subordinate of Inarius who fell and was captured in a random battle in the Eternal Conflict. I think I'll keep it that way.
GUEST REPLY
JC: Interesting thing to think about. :\ Hmmm... I have a good guess that Imperius would try to kick the little guy into next week, or preferably into the next eon. Maybe straight into the Apocalypse, whenever and whatever that would be.
