Chapter 40

- Act III -

All he had to do was shepherd the living Worldstone across the entire length of Sanctuary. What could possibly go wrong?

Positive thinking had never been Tyrael's forte.

- We'll look out for the small spark, dontcha worry!

- Haile, you don't know what he is capable of – Tyrael tried to warn the captain in a futile attempt.

- I know he is a kid, I know he is scared, and I know he has weird light tendril shi—stuff growing out of his back! Ain't no more that needs to be known here, my boy.

- Go take care of things at home. We can handle ourselves – Sophie smiled reassuringly at Tyrael.

- I'd rather not—

- Are ya saying, boy, that I, as a father of two kids, cannot watch over a third one for half a day?! – boomed Haile with all the disdain in the world.

So that is how Tyrael found himself walking briskly down on the main street in the late afternoon, having realized that arguing with those two was more pointless than the Eternal Conflict. He could only hope he would find everything intact and normal when he got back.

But his friends were right to a degree: Tyrael couldn't just disappear for a gods-know how long journey across Sanctuary without informing the Horadrim of his whereabouts. He was responsible for them in some way. Thankfully his mansion still stood, even if it had a huge, charred opening on its side. The fire had been stopped before it could cause damage to the rest of the house, or to the neighboring buildings. Tyrael could hear talking coming from the hole so he used that as an entrance. It led to one of the side corridors where Lorath Nahr was standing, surrounded by a stonemason and a carpenter. They were busy agreeing on the renovations and the price, when Tyrael gained their attention with a cough.

- Sir! It is good to see you! I thought something had attacked you in the house – Lorath rushed there, blue eyes gleaming with relief.

- Good to see you too, Lorath – Tyrael smiled warmly at him, clapping him on the shoulder.

- What happened, really? You seem… too well-dressed to have gone through a crisis – the young warrior looked him over with slight surprise.

Oh right… the tunic he donned after taking a bath.

- It's a… long story. I'll tell you a bit later – Tyrael scratched his head.

- What 'bout th' house, Yer Excellency? – drawled the mason in the background.

Tyrael glanced at Lorath at this title, who only shrugged helplessly.

- Yes, right – the mortal angel turned back to the craftsmen. – It will certainly need some… renovations.

- Aye, it looks like sum Hellfire Beast ran thru 'ere – the carpenter snorted with glee.

- Can we adjourn this meeting, good sirs? I need to clarify a few things first.

- Arright… if ya don' mind people robbing yer home, Yer Excellency – the mason shrugged and together with his colleague, they left through the opening.

Tyrael stared after them, before turning back to Lorath:

- "Your Excellency"?

- I… couldn't tell them that you were a mortal angel owning a huge house. Even they immediately assumed you were a count the second they stepped inside – the young man was quick to defend himself.

Tyrael tiredly massaged his neck. During his time on Sanctuary, he had learnt well that money and titles made the world go around. That was one of the reasons he had accepted the gifted fortune and home from King Torion: as much as it didn't feel completely right to him, he realized this meant possible advantages in the future. So he just swallowed his objections and received the offering with a smile.

- So… what happened, Tyrael? – Lorath asked timidly.

- Come on, let's find some chairs. This will be a long story… and some things will not make complete sense, I reckon – the mortal angel walked through the hole in the inner wall where Kormac had burst into the main hall.

Inside, another figure was standing atop the rubble and charred remains, observing the mostly destroyed pillars that had been changed by Inarius. The newcomer wore dark clothes, an impressive cape, and had a large bulge of a sack tied to his belt.

- Zayl, good to see you – Tyrael nodded towards the shadow with a slight smile.

- 'ey lads! Nice to know you are still in one piece – came the voice of Humbart Wessel from the bag.

- When did you arrive? – Lorath asked as they walked up to him.

Both men were more than accustomed to the necromancer's silent behavior and shadow-like swooping around.

- Just an hour ago. There was an attack here – Zayl turned to them, his pale face barely betraying any emotions.

- One neither of you would anticipate. Come – Tyrael frowned as he led them to the mostly untouched dining hall.

As it turned out, it was harder to recount the mad events of these past few days than the mortal angel originally thought, especially since he had to leave out certain details. He told them of how Lyndon the scoundrel appeared on his doorstep with an angel (who refused to tell his name), and how Kormac attacked them out of nowhere and tried to trick Tyrael with an illusion. He talked about the encounter with Johanna in the Blood Marsh, and how she separated them and sent them to Corvus by destroying the Waypoint there.

- That explains why I could only use the Waypoint near the main road – mused Zayl aloud. – But what has gotten into her?

- There is more – Tyrael grimaced.

He told them how he and the angel got stranded together, but that they managed to get out of Corvus ("by some sheer luck") and back to Westmarch. Johanna's riling speech about the High Heavens did not sit well with either of the Horadrim.

- A possible war with the High Heavens. This is bad – Lorath breathed.

- Can this angel help us avoid that conflict? – Zayl asked.

- I… don't think so. He is here on a different mission, and he's… very adamant about it – answered Tyrael.

He had to focus really hard on the notion that no, he was not lying, he was merely emphasizing certain details of the whole picture. Otherwise, he would have long since bitten his tongue to a bloody stump. Saying complete falsehoods with a straight face was a human trait Tyrael both disdained and occasionally envied.

- But if we help him with his mission… provided it is not something detrimental to Sanctuary of course… we will win over an ally who could help us smooth things over in the long run! – Lorath exclaimed, already getting excited.

- Only me – Tyrael interrupted him. – I am the only one who can accompany him on this mission.

-… Why? – Zayl tilted his head slightly.

- It is better if you do not get involved, trust me. This angel is very… skittish, and distrustful of anyone. He barely tolerates me.

- This sounds like a trap.

- Yes—I mean… it will be perilous, but I have to handle this alone – Tyrael hurried with a defense.

- Are you sure? We can follow and stay in the shadows – Lorath offered.

- No, definitely not! This is an angel we are talking about, and a very strange one at that. Usual tricks will fail against him – Tyrael shook his head.

-… If you say so – Zayl nodded.

He clearly did not like the idea, but as a Priest of Rathma he also understood the need to go on a quest alone. Sometimes teamwork wasn't an advantage. Lorath too fell silent, displeased but temporarily retreating.

- So what now? Where shall you go? – the necromancer asked.

- From what I can tell, our path will lead to the southern most parts of Kehjistan. We will take a few Waypoints along the way – Tyrael said, deep in thought. – Luth Gholein would be the best option to cross the Twin Seas.

- And… until you return? What shall the Horadrim do? – Lorath spoke up.

- If he returns – grumbled Humbart from the sack, earning a hard slap from Zayl.

- You are given free reign – Tyrael ignored the skull. – If you meet any other members, tell them of my mission. If you hear of a crisis, go and help however you can. If an important relic or writing surfaces, investigate. If you find a promising hero to be a new member, feel free to try and involve him. I will decide later if they can stay or not.

- So, business as usual – Humbart summarized.

- Exactly. Also, Lorath. Try to strike a deal with the craftsmen on the renovations. And – Tyrael turned to the young man –, if you can, try to somehow calm the general opinion about angels… if nothing else, then within the ranks of the city guards. Captain Hansen Haile should be able to help you with that.

- Damage control. I'll see to it – Lorath nodded with the outmost conviction.

- Is there anything you need to do, Zayl? Something we can help with? – Tyrael glanced at the necromancer.

- Nothing yet, thank you – came the soft reply. – There is… something in the Balance, a foreboding sense. Perhaps the work of Johanna herself. But until I receive a clear sign, I cannot act upon it.

- I bet the Hero of Sanctuary would be a presence enough to mess up the Balance – Lorath grimaced.

Tyrael nodded, his mood not helped by this new information.

- I need to get ready now. Thank you for listening – he stood up.

And forgive me for twisting the whole truth…

Zayl glanced at him a moment longer, then nodded in agreement:

- May the Balance guide you, Tyrael.

The mortal angel waved in gratitude as he disappeared upstairs.

At first he wanted to don his usual heavy armor, but eventually he decided against it. As much as he felt almost naked without it, it was also a complete curse during long travels. Tyrael knew he had to maximize his comfort, if he wanted to practice any amount of patience towards Inarius.

- I swear if this journey ends in him creating yet another Sanctuary… Or worse… – he murmured under his nose, as he readied a very uncharacteristic leather chest armor, pauldrons, vambrances and tassets.

It was a relatively light outfit, and his heavy traveling cape barely helped that matter. Still, it had to do. Tyrael then began packing a backpack with some bandages, a firesteel and flint, a doss and a few other essentials. He had a feeling tomorrow Sophie and Haile would greatly expand the kit, so he did not put much planning into it. Lorath left to hunt down the craftsmen and Zayl disappeared to wherever necromancers tended to disappear. Tyrael could only hope he wouldn't scare the grieving visitors in the graveyard, like last time. Some of them almost believed the Reapers came back…

Most of the mortal angel's mind was occupied just how horribly bad of an idea this journey was, even as he hunted down some bread from the thankfully untouched pantry and had a measly dinner finally. He had to cross the entire world with an agitated, stubborn and underdeveloped angel who was also apparently the Worldstone itself, or at least a part of it, or he was a vessel, or…

This just sounded bad already.

There was a glimpse of a dark cape at the edge of his vision as Tyrael climbed back upstairs. Perhaps Zayl didn't leave afterall. Necromancers were hard to understand at times.

Tyrael had an even deeper worry than chaperoning a god-like child around: there was no denying that both Inarius and the Worldstone had the potential to carry ill will towards the former Archangel of Justice. He had already garnered a burst of rage from the little angel back in Corvus. It looked like Inarius did not remember much, he couldn't even remember the name of his cathedral. It was an interesting question, however, how much of his past he would recover during this journey… and if those memories would serve as fuel for hatred.

It wasn't like they started out on the right foot, Tyrael thought sourly, as he flung himself into his bed. Had he still been an Archangel, he would have had less to worry about, but now as a mortal he was keenly aware of his own vulnerability. Then again, if the Worldstone really was capable of thoughts and emotions, then really nothing would have kept him safe on the long run…

It was a borderline miracle that Tyrael could fall asleep at all, but he did.

oooOOOooo

- Do no want you to go – mumbled Quiet as he hugged the legs of the pretty lady, face buried in her brown skirt.

- Oh little one, don't worry. Kapten Heyly will be happy to give you room for the night. But I have to go home now – Soffia patted his head, which sent a wave of warmth through him.

- But you are pretty and kind.

- Thank you, you are very sweet.

- Teeriel is mean.

- He is just worried for you, little one – Soffia crouched down to him.

Quiet quickly wiped off his tears as he looked at the lady.

- But he is skerry. And mean. He is no worried – he tried again weakly.

- Yes, he is, he's just… not that good at expressing it. But he cares about you, and he is afraid you will get hurt.

- He does no care what my name is – Quiet pressed on, sniffling. – He says I'm Inarius. I am no Inarius!

Soffia sighed loudly as she looked at the floor.

- He can be stubborn, yes – she finally said after a pause. – But I talked to him about this. He promised he will try to be less mean to you.

Quiet doubted this, but he did not want to tell that to the pretty lady.

- In return, I would like to ask something from you too – Soffia smiled at him. – You should listen to him as well, and try to learn from what he is saying.

- He says I am Inarius. I am no—not!

- I know, little one. You two can talk about this, and agree on something. You both will have to be calm, but you can do it. This is how grownups deal with problems, you see.

- But I am no grownup. Leendonn says I can't use bad words because they are for grownups.

Soffia laughed at this, hugging Quiet close and standing up with him. The little angel did not fight it, he wished he could stay like this. It helped him calm down a bit.

- Bad words sure are only for grownups, that is true – the pretty lady said. – But there are certain things that you can start learning early. If you do that, it will be easier to be a grownup. Bad words aren't hard to learn, and they don't help, but being able to calmly talk about problems with others is very useful. If you start practicing now, you will be very good at it when you grow up.

Quiet thought about what she said. Leendonn had also said similar things in the past, but he was talking about climbing and sneaking and scaring off bad people. But if it was true for those skills, it must be true for others as well.

- I'll try – he mumbled into the hug.

- Thank you, little one. It will make things much easier, you'll see – Soffia smiled again and she put him down. – Now, I really need to go. Be a darling, and tell Kapten Heyly that I left, alright?

-… Alright – Quiet mumbled sadly as he shuffled after the wide skirt of the pretty lady.

He felt like he was underwater, his senses dimmed. Probably because he was sad and skerd of tomorrow. He did not know what to expect, and without Leendonn he didn't feel safe. A part of him was terrified about the next red needle he might aim at Teeriel's head. The big bald man was mean, but he did not deserve to die.

Still, Quiet had to know what was in that grassy place. And he had to know it without Leendonn. He only wished he could make sense out of all this.

Soffia walked up to the front door, and with a last smile over her shoulder, she pushed it open, ready to step onto the stairs.

A flash of pure terror stabbed into Quiet, painful and sharp. He screamed from the top of his lungs and instinctively grabbed and dragged the pretty lady back from the door. The veil on his senses was obliterated.

Beyond the stairs, on the cobblestone streets, something, many things were crawling out of the strange openings that led to the sewers. They were made out of human and animal bones and they were moved by an evil power, Quiet could feel it finally. A smaller army of them were emerging, all headed straight for their house. The people on the streets shouted and backed up.

These monsters were all dead. They weren't supposed to moveWhy did they move?!

Soffia screamed as well, she grabbed Quiet from the ground and slammed the door shut, before running back inside the dining room. Kapten Heyly came rushing down from the room of Kyla and Jeralt.

- What happened, girl?!

- Crawlers! Skeletal Crawlers! – Soffia shouted, putting the terrified Quiet down and grabbing a long wooden spoon from near the fire place.

Heyly said some words that Quiet suspected were very bad indeed, then he ran deeper into the house. The horrible monsters clawed at the door that was creaking and falling apart. The little angel froze with sheer terror as he saw glimpses of them through the rapidly growing cracks. This wasn't supposed to happen, those weren't supposed to move at all! The shock of just how wrong these creatures were completely immobilized Quiet.

- Those fakin things still get uppity around here at times. But not this many all at once! – Heyly rushed back inside, shield and sword at the ready, as he shouted up at the children's room. – Kids, stay in there, you hear!?

Just in time, because in that moment, the entrance door gave in and the Crawlers swarmed inside the antechamber. Keening like a tortured dog, clacking their empty jaws hungrily, they invaded the home, even as armed guards and bystanders rushed at the end of the group, hacking them to pieces. Despite the outside help, an alarming number of Crawlers could get inside and dived straight at the cornered victims.

Heyly kicked one in the face, shattering its skull, then he slashed another in two, while using his shield to crush a third one. Soffia too stood her ground admirably, flinging her wooden spoon and whacking Crawlers against the walls. Behind them, Quiet still couldn't make his body move, nor could he tear his eyes away from the creatures. A small part of him urged him to do something already, the shouting and fighting spirit of all the humans on the streets filled him with energy, but sheer dread froze him to his spot. His mind was unable to let it go. Why did these things move?! Dead things weren't supposed to move!

Why were they all looking at him with those empty holes for eyes?!

Quiet's back collided with the wall, he heard himself cry and call out for Leendonn, but it felt like he was no longer in control of his own body.

A shrill battlecry slightly jolted him out of the numbness of fear. Kyla vaulted over the railings from the gallery, wooden shield and sword at the ready. Heyly screamed at her, but she plummeted straight into the middle of the attacking horde and landed on three Crawlers, crushing them. With surprising precision, she struck forward. Her sword, while not having any blade whatsoever, was sturdy and blunt enough to bash in the old bones.

- Kyla, get out of there this instant, you hear me?! – Heyly shouted again, trying to cut a path to his daughter in the clacking, angry, morbid swarm of remains.

The little girl was about to answer when a Crawler chomped down on her left ankle hard enough to draw blood. She shrieked and pulverized the attacker with her shield. Another Crawler managed to scratch her forearm in a long gash. Soffia screamed and grabbed the skeleton that launched itself at her and grabbed her shirt and skirt, hanging from her like a bat. Heyly's sword was knocked out of his hand by an unseen strike.

A realization finally tore through the terror in Quiet's mind: his friends were getting hurt. Rage raced across his entire being, similar to that terrified night with Leendonn when they had been ambushed by bad people. Leendonn had almost died by a bolt to his head then, but Quiet ordered the world to change and stop that from happening.

The only difference now was that he could control this very same rage. And whatever evil power was responsible for this attack, would not stand in his way.

He let out a battlecry, deep like thunder and powerful like a volcanic eruption, and lunged forward, eyes blazing red. Red needles appeared behind him, growing long curved blades before they flew forward and began cutting through the monsters like they were little more than air. Every swing and strike resulted in a Crawler exploding into fine powder, the tendrils of the evil force leaving them, hissing in an almost angry manner.

The horde immediately shifted its whole attention at Quiet, but the little angel would not be denied. He grabbed one of the curved blades of red gem and swung it around himself, his former fear long forgotten. These things shouldn't be moving, so all he had to do was correcting this mistake. Killing these beasts did not give him any burst of power, unlike killing humans had done, but the fighting spirit of all the humans in the vicinity was making up for that with their slower, but consistent source of energy. The strange part of him, the one that had been massive and unmoving once, was thrilled to no end: it was finally fighting properly, protecting friends, a new aspect of existence that it had had little experience before.

It was quite amazing, being able to fight back, after all these eons of being used like a tool.

Heyly retrieved his sword while kicking a few clambering Crawlers out of the way, and shouting all sorts of bad words at the whole horde as he got back into the fight. Soffia managed to tear off the attacker and smashed it into the floor, stomping it to pieces with righteous fury. The pretty lady quickly grabbed her wooden spoon once again and fell upon the monsters, her eyes gleaming angrily. Kyla easily shook off her injuries, and kept hacking, cheering for Quiet all the way:

- Yeah, that's right! That's how Weztmarchers fight! Kick their arses!

Quiet was all too happy to oblige, even though he wasn't entirely sure what "arse" meant.

The sudden surge of counterattack quickly overwhelmed the mindless Skeletal Crawlers. The guards and armed bystanders fought their way into the house, and the remaining monsters were quickly destroyed in the pincer attack they found themselves in.

Quiet abruptly stopped as silence settled in, breathing heavily, but feeling more alive than ever before. He stared at the last vestiges of the evil magic trying to slip away. He quickly struck out and grabbed a tendril, pulling it back slightly.

- Get out. And never come back! – he hissed at it, before squeezing it and erasing it from existence.

This magic had felt somewhat similar to the one that the worthless First Spawn of Anu had left behind on his beloved world, and that was enough to raise his ire. He shook it off and rushed back to his friends, his curved blades disappearing from sight. Their purpose was fulfilled. The guards did a sweeping check, then satisfied with their work, left the house to seal back the sewer entrance in the street. The excitement was winding down, and with it, the extra energy also slowly stopped flowing into Quiet. That was fine, now it was time for peace.

- What were you thinking, Kyla?! I told you to stay inside your room! – Heyly was busy chiding his daughter in a tone that reminded Quiet of Leendonn when he was angry.

- You needed help, papa! We could take them like this.

So papas did this too, not just friends? Strange. Perhaps "papa" was a special type of friend, Quiet mused silently.

Soffia was already checking out the girl's wounds, frowning:

- We need to clean it as fast as possible, before it gets infected.

- Can you help with that? – Heyly asked.

- I need to go back to the hospital to get some salves. Until then, you can use water to—

Quiet walked there and gently took Kyla's hand into his. The injury was shallow but ugly, and Quiet could sense little beings inside that would be the source of an ugly sickness if not treated carefully. He frowned at that, and willed those little things to turn into nothing, before sealing the cut, making sure not to leave behind a scar. The bite mark on the ankle obeyed the same way.

-… Goddamn! – Heyly stared at them.

- Wow – Soffia gasped too. – I… you can do this, Quiet?

- It's easy. I asked it to heal – the little angel let go of Kyla.

- This is great! – the girl exclaimed, grinning widely, looking over her arm.

- But wait, what if the poison is still inside? – Soffia argued, full of worry.

- It wasn't poison. Little things that cause sicknesses – Quiet shook his head. – I had them disappear completely. It is safe.

The pretty lady blinked at him in confusion, but did not question him. Quiet only now noticed the ugly holes and tears in her dress because of the Skeletal Crawler hanging from her. He silently asked the texture to mend itself, which it readily did, much to the surprise of Soffia.

- Thank you, Quiet! – Kyla hugged the little angel, grinning widely.

Quiet smiled back sheepishly.

- Well… I mean, angels are a weird bunch. We shouldn't be surprised – Heyly looked at Soffia, shrugging.

-… I wonder if Teeriel could do the same when he had been an angel – the pretty lady mused loudly, looking at her once again perfect dress.

- These Skeletal Crawlers, though – grumbled Heyly, looking at his ruined entrance. – A few sometimes climb up from the Plague Tunnels, but… never this many! What did rile them up this badly, I wonder…

- They were all going for Quiet, did you notice that? – Soffia added, frowning. – Maybe he was the most interesting because he was an angel?

- Maybe? It's not like we can ask one of these little shits, girl…

Quiet realized the door was still busted. He asked the wood to get back into shape and reattach itself to the frame. After that, he allowed Kyla to drag him upstairs, to tell Jeralt of their great victory tonight.

- That shit's still weird – he heard Heyly's comment on the newly repaired door.


AAAND WE ARE BACK, cupcakes! Thank you for your continued patience while I continue to fight my way through an endless series of obstacles.

Now onto the journey of a lifetime! Disclaimer: this Act may hold familiar aspects to veteran Diablo players. That is… partially intentional. :P

Please do feel free to picture Captain Haile saying "boy" like in the new God of War video game. I implore you.

Lore & Trivia Corner

- Third time's the charm I guess: This chapter took me three tries to nail down. That was one of the reasons for the delay. The first time around, too many things happened all at once, while nothing really got enough screen time. The second time around it was too bland. The third time I said "fuck it" and threw in the Skeletal Crawlers. Fear not, though, for this decision was very much intentional, and does have a role to play on the long run. ;)

- Skeletal Crawlers: Unholy fusions of human and animal remains that died during the Great Pestilence of Westmarch. The dead were piled up into the Plague Tunnels, from where the Reapers' powers called upon them. Despite killing every last Reaper, their magic still lingers to this day, and while it is not strong enough to cause any real harm to living beings, it is more than enough to still move these ugly things around.

- Quiet's fear of the undead: Since he is the fusion of the two beings, Inarius and the Worldstone, who originally filled Sanctuary with life, I figured both of them are firm believers of the "dead things shouldn't fucking move" philosophy. Simple.