Chapter 30

Getting out of Corvus was not even close to a challenge when an all-controlling angel was by your side, Tyrael noted.

After a long and surprisingly peaceful sleep, the duo woke up, had some breakfast, then Inarius simply raised them out of the ruins on a ground pedestal. The ceiling above them parted, letting them through. No Phantasms or Flesh Golems got in their way. After an hour or so, Tyrael felt fresh breeze on his face as they rose to the surface and the pedestal settled into the ground. The effort clearly spent Inarius, but the little angel tried to stagger to his feet. Grumbling about stubbornness, Tyrael scooped his companion up from the ground and began walking in a random direction.

- So where to now? – he asked Inarius as he looked around.

They were no longer in the Bloodmarsh, instead the ground was finally solid and dry, grass rolled in the morning wind, and patches of trees dotted the land all around. The air brought the slight scent of the sea with it. They were close to the Gulf of Westmarch. Tyrael had no idea they travelled this much underground. Or maybe Corvus was even able to bend space in a way. He wouldn't have been surprised by that either.

- We travel – Inarius answered simply, clearly not comfortable in the hug.

- Yes, I thought that much – Tyrael grumbled. – But the Cathedral of Light is far away from here. We should use a few Waypoints on the way.

- Then we find waypoints.

- The closest I know about is in Westmarch. Perhaps Johanna had left that place already…

Inarius squirmed his way out of the hug, and hopped onto the ground. He looked like he zoned out for a second, maybe concentrating on something.

- This way – he said softly and began walking to the west.

Tyrael, having no better idea, followed him. The little angel fell awfully silent ever since that matter with the Phantasms, but this also meant that arguing or even reasoning with him became nigh-impossible. He just stated what he would do, and he went to do it, end of the conversation. The fallen angel had a bad feeling this would cause some serious trouble later on, but he had no idea how to prevent it.

What was he supposed to do here, Tyrael pondered as he trudged after his companion. Inarius himself stated that they weren't friends (which was true), Tyrael was creeped out by his powers (which no doubt the little angel sensed), and the fallen angel also did not possess Lyndon's people skills (which was unfortunate). All this just spelled "disaster in the making", but for the life of him, he couldn't come up with a solution. Should he just start to talk randomly? About what? Would Inarius even listen? Tyrael knew he would have pulled his hair out in frustration by now, had he had any.

Maybe checking back to Westmarch wasn't such a bad idea. If Johanna was truly gone from there, he could maybe go visit Sophie and ask for advice. Also spend some time with her to unwind a bit.

That would be nice.

Tyrael sighed longingly. He wished from the bottom of his heart, that he could go back to his usual days of slowly forming the Horadrim, gathering and documenting texts and just spend more time with Sophie, going to plays and markets and such. Instead he got dragged into this mess, Johanna tried to kill him, and the literal gods of Sanctuary followed his every move with a critical eye.

Life was unfair, Tyrael decided bitterly.

Absent-mindedly, he glanced at Inarius' direction. The next second Tyrael lunged forward and grabbed the little angel by the hand, yanking him away from his spot. Inarius screeched in alarm, but Tyrael was retreating at a hair-raising pace, practically fleeing from the suddenly animated tree they were trying to pass.

Bark creaked and bent and one thick branch came crashing down, barely missing the two travelers. The roots pulled themselves out of the ground and formed four thick legs, on which the entire plant stood up and towered over them.

A wood wraith. Just perfect.

Still holding Inarius in the air by his hand, Tyrael summoned El'druin in his other palm.

- Back off, fiend! – he shouted with all his might, swinging the sword in a wide arc.

The damnable tree reared back a little, hissing in an unpleasant voice at the sight of the weapon.

- Can you order it?! – Tyrael asked desperately Inarius.

The little angel shrieked at the tree, angrily trying to pull his hand out of the iron grip. The monster roared back something that sounded anything but quailing.

- No, it won't listen! – Inarius answered, finally freeing himself and standing firmly on the ground.

Tyrael suppressed a curse. So all those texts theorizing that the wood wraiths came from another world were right afterall. He readied his sword instead.

The wood wraith slammed one branch into the ground, and a second later rapidly growing bulbs sprung from the ground, drawing closer to the travelers.

- Poison! – Tyrael stumbled back, but Inarius was on the case.

- Burn! – he hissed, pointing at the bulbs and they promptly self-combusted, quickly turning into ash.

The wood wraith charged with a roar, Tyrael answered in kind. Suddenly the ground sprung up under his feet and he was sent flying at the monster's supposed head, El'druin gleaming in the light. He chopped the beast in half, just as a spear of diamond stabbed the trunk through from the side.

The wood wraith quickly went under, exploding and spewing green acidic liquid everywhere. Tyrael would have gotten quite a large splash into his face but the spray evaporated without a trace in mid-air before his eyes.

- You do not have a place here – rumbled Inarius at the remains.

There it was again. That voice. Why did it remind Tyrael of the old Inarius so much?

- Ugly tree – yet again, the little angel's next sentence was back to normal.

- What was that? – Tyrael asked him.

- An ugly tree.

- No, I meant… that deep voice just now.

Inarius glanced at him then back at the wood wraith.

- We agreed – he finally said before turning on his heels and continuing his marching back to Westmarch.

- "We"? – Tyrael rushed after him, more confused than ever.

- Yes.

- Who are "we"?

- I am.

Tyrael suddenly longed for that half-baked conversation he had had with Ytar back in the ruins.

Thankfully, they did not run into any more wood wraiths, and the otherwise dangerous Beasts and carrion bats, that tended to populate the grass fields from Westmarch to New Tristram, did not approach them. The usually territorial Beasts were actually quite tame around Inarius, they honked at him as a greeting then went back to grazing grass in peace. It was a rather odd sight, but Tyrael began to fall in rhythm with it, each strange instance reinforcing his suspicion.

The only question remaining:

How and why the hell did that happen?!

- How did you meet Lyndon? – Tyrael asked as they were passing a nearby Beast herd, not even sparing a glance at them.

He himself didn't know why he asked something he already knew, maybe he just wanted to break the silence.

Quiet paused for a second before continuing.

-… He promiss-d everything would be alright – he mumbled, clearly lost in thought.

- But how did you meet him? – Tyrael pressed.

- That's how. He promiss-d.

-… Alright. Where did that happen, then?

- I dunno.

- You… don't know?

- No. There is nothing. Only Leendonn promiss-ing.

That… was not the answer the fallen angel was looking for. Yes, Inarius was clearly suffering from amnesia, but surely, he would recall that, if nothing else.

- If I tell you… you were found in a mirror room? – Tyrael asked, carefully pushing the topic.

- I do no like mirrors – Inarius frowned, his eyes flashing up.

-… I bet you don't – Tyrael mumbled.

There was a pause.

-… Why you ask things you know? – Inarius threw this question at him without looking.

- I—

- I only ask when I do no know things. From Leendonn. But not from you. You are mean.

Tyrael rolled his eyes.

- I am sure we could get along better, if only you would stop to think and not barge into everywhere – he barked back in annoyance.

- See? Mean.

- I am only saying what you are doing wrong, Inarius!

- And you do no care about my name.

Tyrael bit down on a curse. All he was trying to do was to explain to Inarius that he was going to get himself killed with this head-strong nature of his! What was there not to understand?!

- I am telling you your flaws, because I want you to be better! – he argued further, frustration building up in him.

- Leendonn made me better without being mean – Inarius pointed out simply.

- Explaining something is not considered "mean".

- You explain meanly, essholl.

- Oh that's it! – Tyrael boomed.

He stood before Inarius, barring his way. The angel tilted his head up and his red eyes were locked with the golden irises.

- I will not stand for that kind of language – the fallen angel announced in a clear, angry voice. – You will stop that kind of thing, immediately! I am only trying to help you, and this is how you repay me, you ungrateful seraphim?! Instead of being stubborn and foolish, you should listen and learn, Inarius!

Quiet's eyes narrowed a bit.

- That is no my name now – he said in a dangerously low voice.

- It is. Whether you like it or not. You may not remember, or you are just denying it, I am still not completely sure. But your name—is—Inarius! – Tyrael shouted.

Something small moved the air behind him, but before he could fully register it, the Beasts' angry roar drew his attention fully. Tyrael snapped his head in the direction of the herd not too far from them. The animals were honking and stomping in rage, all turned towards the fallen angel. Some slowly shook their horned head at him as a clear warning, they kicked and clawed at the ground, as if winding up a charge.

Inarius took a deep breath, wings standing straight up and quivering anxiously. He turned to the Beasts and raised his hand.

- Husssssssssssh – he shushed them, his voice like the wind.

The brutes slowly calmed down, even if they looked clearly unhappy at the command. Tyrael risked looking behind himself, searching for the source of that miniscule movement, but saw nothing.

Strange.

- You do no care about my name. Why I care about yours? – Inarius turned back to him, wings still rigid.

- Unlike you, I do not wish to deny my identity – Tyrael glared at his companion.

- It doesn't matter. I will no care about your name, if you do no care about mine. Essholl.

Tyrael needed a moment to stop himself from summoning El'druin into his hand again. Over five thousand goddamn years… and Inarius was still the biggest strain on his nerves out of every other possible strains.

And that included the now released Prime Evil.

Inarius pushed past him as he began walking towards Westmarch again. Tyrael took a second to compose himself, then he turned around and trudged after the little angel. He heard the Beasts snarling in his direction, as if telling him where to stick it.

This was going to be a long journey.

oooOOOooo

We are better than this. You are better than this.

Quiet's hands shook as he hid them in his long sleeves. He got so close… so goddamn close. Not even an inch. He hoped Teeriel couldn't see his anxiety, as he kept his eyes on the ground before him. His entire body was rigid, as if trying to restrain himself.

We are better than this. You are better than this.

Was he? Was he really? His wings quivered.

He almost killed Teeriel back there.

That tiny needle of blood red gem, appearing out of nothing, so so tiny. But long enough to pierce the skull and the brain, and explode inside.

Quiet shuddered.

We are better than this. You are better than this.

He almost did not see the dart. It was much tinier than the spears he used against those horrible blue ghosts. He did not register creating it, just when it launched itself at the back of Teeriel's head. It came so close to ending the bald man's life.

He came so close, Quiet realized with dread. He commanded that needle, it did not appear on its own. A part of the little angel wanted Teeriel to just shut the hell up! What better way to achieve that, then to make sure he could never say anything again?

We are better than this. You are better than this.

Quiet held onto that memory like a mantra. Leendonn's words echoed in his mind, and he grabbed onto them with fear. He tried to flee from the resurfacing memories: his old self swiftly and ruthlessly killing everyone who was mean to him, who dared to stand up to him.

Quiet wasn't Inarius, he did not want to be Inarius! Inarius was a monster!

He wanted out of this dark place!

That is what bad people and monster do. That is what demons do!

He did not feel safe.

Quiet felt tears running down on his cheeks, but he couldn't find the strength to wipe them off. His pace faltered and he stopped. He just wanted to be safe again.

Quiet sat down on the ground, curled up into a tight ball and began keening.

It was all so scary, he didn't know how to say it, how to ask for help, how to do anything. He just wanted Leendonn. Leendonn would understand either way.

Two arms encircled Quiet uncertainly, and lifted him from the ground. The little angel did not fight it. He wanted to trick himself into thinking that it was Leendonn.

We are better than this. You are better than this.

oooOOOooo

After that clash, the last thing Tyrael expected was for Inarius to suddenly stop without reason, curl up into a ball and begin crying.

The heart-wrenching sound filled the air and all around the trees and the grass rustled in kind, as if reacting to it. Tyrael stared dumbfoundedly at his companion, all kinds of alarms going off in his head.

What was he supposed to do here?!

His mind going blank, Tyrael could do nothing but stand there and watch helplessly as Inarius cried his tiny heart out. Despite their argument and the frustration it caused, right there and then the fallen angel could not picture a sadder sight than this.

Something fuzzy surfaced in his mind: back in the mansion, Inarius clearly liked to seek out Lyndon's embrace.

Moving like a robot, Tyrael bent down and gently scooped up the tiny bundle wrecked with sobs.

- He-hey… it's okay – he stammered, awkwardly rocking the angel.

It didn't look like Inarius registered the words at all, but he also did not kick Tyrael in the chest, nor did the nearest tree dish out a backhand with its largest branch, so it may have been the right course of action.

- I—I'm sorry for shouting back there, alright? – the fallen angel mumbled, clearly at a loss for proper words.

He began walking again in the direction they were heading. Westmarch could not be close enough, he thought bitterly. Not that Inarius was heavy, the little angel barely weighted anything, and most of that were the clothes. This whole situation, however…

- I just… I just want to make sure you stay fine – Tyrael went on, still rocking his companion in an awkward way. – I am worried your stubbornness will cause you trouble, you understand? It did in the past, many times… even if you don't remember.

Please, just stop crying, he pleaded silently.

Angels were just as expressive with sounds as humans were, even if most of the time they were too proud and/or disciplined to present it. Their keening of sorrow and despair was just the saddest sound imaginable, no matter from whom it came. It weighted down the listener, it awoke all kinds feelings, it communicated all too perfectly the grief the angel was feeling.

Tyrael had no idea how to properly combat these emotions. He still had trouble with them under normal circumstances, but now? He had to blink the tears back that threatened to spill out.

- I'm sorry, alright? – he tried again.

What caused this even? Was Tyrael really that harsh? He didn't feel like it. Stern, most certainly, he had always been like that, afterall. But actually making an angel cry just by talking to them?

Maybe that "essholl" comment isn't that unwarranted then, the bitter thought popped up in Tyrael's mind.

Anu, or maybe one of Sanctuary's gods decided to show mercy to him. Inarius fell asleep from crying, nestled deep into the embrace. He clearly wasn't having a peaceful slumber, but at least his keening stopped.

After an hour or so, Westmarch finally appeared over a small hill. Tyrael had never felt happier to see a settlement before. He doubled his efforts, even though his feet were sore already.

On the familiar streets, Tyrael stormed towards the hospital like there was no tomorrow. He needed to find Sophie and receive some semblance of temporary peace at least! He didn't even cared for his surroundings, the complaining pedestrians had to get out of his way.

But eventually, he did begin to see odd signs that made him walk a bit slower.

The western kingdoms, and those following the Zakarum faith tended to have angels depicted among the symbols (even if very human-like and with feathered wings), despite everything that ever happened. They were used as decoration, not just in temples, but also on houses, squares, public buildings. These days, it was probably out of habit and aesthetics, nothing more.

All these angel depictions were deliberately ruined now. The reliefs and statues had their heads broken off, their hands and wings mutilated. Literally everywhere Tyrael passed, he saw the same vandalism. What was even weirder, however, that the people didn't seem to mind at all. Westmarchers had always been picky about the appearance of their beloved city, even Malthael's reign of terror could not erase this from them. They should have been complaining to each other or to the city-guards about these ruined decorations, but none of that was present. They walked by the vandalism like it wasn't even there.

Then Tyrael saw a group of young lads gathered around an angelic statue on a smaller square to his right. They were busy further mutilating the statue, carving its eyes out and such. The nearby city guard didn't even glance into their direction. Neither did anyone else passing by. Tyrael had no idea what was going on.

When he finally reached the hospital, he couldn't even walk up to the main entrance when Sophie emerged, finishing her work for the day. There was a stunned silence as the two adults stared at each other.

- TYRAEL! – Sophie finally shrieked, throwing herself into his neck, nearly jolting Inarius out of his sleep.

- I—I missed you too, Sophie – stammered Tyrael, growing red, awkwardly returning the hug with one arm, while simultaneously trying not to drop the little angel.

- Where have you been?! – Sophie glared at him as she grabbed his hand and began guiding him down a street. – I had no idea what happened! Had to go to Captain Haile to even learn that your house burnt down because you were attacked! What happened? Would it kill you if you left a note every once in a while at least?! I worried myself sick over you!

- Sophie! Sophie, please not so loud – Tyrael tried to calm the woman down, gesturing at the fitfully sleeping Inarius.

- Oh… How cute! Whose child is he? What's his name? – Sophie blinked at the angel as if noticing him just now, his disguise tricking her.

- Sophie… I seriously need to explain a lot of things. Can we go to your home? – Tyrael sighed tiredly.

- Are these important things?

- Yes. I think yes.

- Then shouldn't Captain Haile hear about them as well?

Oh, yeah right. Tyrael had sometimes wondered if it had been a good idea to introduce Sophie and Haile to each other, but they seemed to be getting along well, and just being familiar with each other meant Sophie was safer under the watchful eye of the captain. Even now this decision had proven to be the right one.

- Haile! I have brought Tyrael back! – shouted Sophie as they entered the spacious living room of the soldier a couple minutes later.

- You did?! Holy bloody shit-hell, girl, good job! Sit him down by the table, will ya?! Make sure he can't disappear again! – came the muffled reply.

- What has happened since I was gone? It hadn't been that long – Tyrael looked at Sophie as they sat down in the dining room, Inarius still sleeping in his arms.

- It was so weird, Tyrael – Sophie grimaced. – After your house got blown up—

- By Kormac.

-… Yes, Haile mentioned that. I don't get it. But the firemen managed to save most of it from the fire, don't worry. Anyway, so after that, Johanna arrived, like, half-a-day later. She seemed a bit shaggy, but otherwise fine, and—

The dining hall's door slammed open, revealing a casually dressed, but not any less stern-looking Hansen Haile on the doorstep.

- Tyrael, you'd better fucking hold onto your goddamn pants now, my boy! – he announced with angrily gleaming eyes.

- Haile, what is going on?!

- Johanna lost her damn mind, she did! She is calling for a rebellion against the High Heavens themselves!


SSsshit, man. Anyone got any goddamn idea what is going on?!

And you cupcakes thought you saw Inarius' dark side for the last time back in that mansion? HÁHÁHHÁÁHÁHÁ, no. Not even close.

But anyway, I was so glad to see you guys liked Chapter 29! ^^ I had been very proud of that, so it was even better to see it gets validation. To be honest, this chapter had turned out MUCH more different than I originally thought as well, and I'm rather pleased with the results.

Lore & Trivia Corner

- Wood Wraiths: predators imitating trees, living off of others' lifeforce. They can be found all around New Tristram, so I figured they are widespread on those parts of the world. Their origin is actually not made clear in the lore: some say they are demonic in nature and origin, others simply say they are from another world and were more than likely summoned by Necromancers. Only fair to mention, that the man claiming this has a great dislike for the Priests of Rathma.

- Beasts: one of the most widespread species in all of Sanctuary, you can encounter variants of them throughout Act I, III and even V, from grazing brutes to flaming undead skeletons (Urzael a bit overdid it), these motherfuckers are pretty much everywhere. Despite their aggressive nature, they are mostly herbivores.

- Angel depictions in Zakarum faith: this was actually my addition, relying on the visual style of Diablo 3 and sometimes Diablo 2. Places that were built by Zakarum believers (Leoric's Mansion, the Catacombs, the Crypts) are all filled with feather-winged angelic figures. So I figured they would be widespread in Westmarch as well, a city originally established for the reason of spreading the Zakarum religion. It is also stated that Akarat, the creator and Prophet of this belief, saw a vision about an angel named Yaerius, so it would be logical that he appears in the symbolism. Real quick about the vision: Deckard Cain believed it was an echo of Uldyssian's memory, picturing him in his moment of sacrifice at the end of the Sin War.

My DeviantArt Stuff

Learning a new program = excuse to draw my favorite duo: (slash) kenyizsu (slash) art (slash) Diablo-Lyndon-And-Quiet-sketch-756822195