Chapter 41

Tyrael couldn't really explain why he didn't just give up and turn around after the first one and a half kilometers of the journey. Perhaps Inarius' stubbornness was contagious.

Or perhaps he did not wish to be unjustly burnt to ashes by the idiotic gods of Sanctuary.

It all started with waking up from a nightmare. Thankfully his mortal brain very quickly got rid of all the details, and all that was left was a foreboding feeling: a pale bony hand pointing at something and telling him that he was a traitor. He had more pressing matters to pay attention to than that.

Next, he discovered that while he had been away, a sizeable horde of Skeletal Crawlers had decided to go insane and siege Haile's home, while Sophie was still there. After a formidable distance of running faster than he thought he was capable of (the new leather armor might have helped with that), Tyrael almost crashed into his girlfriend before her house, who assured him that she was indeed fine, and nothing serious happened, really.

- Are you certain you are fine? No injuries, no poison, nothing? – Tyrael asked for the third time, trying to catch his breath.

- Tyrael, I am alright, don't worry – Sophie smiled at him, rushing back inside and offering him a glass of water. – Kyla got a bit hurt, but after we won, Quiet healed her wounds and she is completely fine as well.

It took a bit more convincing, but eventually Tyrael managed to calm down. Sophie quickly took the opportunity to bury him in salves, bandages, herbs and potions she had prepared for him yesterday.

- Sophie, it's a bit too much – the angel tried to argue.

- You are going to Kehjistan!

- Yes, but we are taking Waypoints along the—

- I don't care if you are flying there! It's still the other end of the world! – Sophie stomped her foot.

She clearly meant it to be intimidating, but honestly Tyrael couldn't think of a cuter gesture from her.

- Alright, alright! Thank you, I will take care of it, I promise – Tyrael finally caved in and accepted it.

Sophie's pointed glare made him pause.

-… And of myself, of course – he quickly added, smiling awkwardly.

- You are to write me letters, alright?!

- Sophie—

- I mean it, Tyrael! I want to know what is happening with you two!

- You know postal services are… problematic on the road – Tyrael scratched his head.

- I don't care! Hunt down the messengers with El'druin if you have to! I want to receive news from you, even if it's weeks later!

- Alright, alright! I promise I will write – he relented with a slight smile.

- And do not throw yourself needlessly into conflict.

- Yes, madam.

- And eat well and regularly!

- Sophie…

- And sleep regularly too!

Tyrael leant in and gently kissed her on the cheek, stunning her.

- For you, anything – he smiled widely at her.

- Just be careful, alright? Come back home to me, Tyrael – Sophie sighed, her spark dying out as she hugged the man back.

Tyrael had yet to get used to someone actively demanding from him to return in one piece. But he reckoned he liked the feeling. It was strong enough to push aside his worries temporarily.

Of course his worries returned with backup when he finally went back to Haile's house. The captain prepared a collection of beef jerky, dried fruit and even a water sack that had a purifying rune woven into it to clean the water it held.

- Haile, this must have cost an arm and a leg! – Tyrael stared at the priceless tool. – I can't take this from you.

- This water sack had served me through Bastion's Keep and the Reaper attack. I figured it could see a bit more action now – the captain grinned, patting the sack with great pride. – I know it will be of great help to you as well. And ya ain't leaving the house without it, boy.

Tyrael only sighed, realizing that today was still not the day to argue with his friends over anything.

- Where is Inarius? – he asked instead.

- Ya mean Quiet? He's upstairs with the kids, getting ready.

Tyrael inhaled deeply. Alright, he still had a few minutes then before the continuous disaster would start.

- Ya know, boy… you should go into this with a bit more optimistic mindset – Haile raised an eyebrow.

- Yes, that would indeed be nice…

oooOOOooo

- So… you have to find something out about your life, then go meet up with your friend, Leendonn? – Jeralt said uncertainly, his legs dangling from atop the desk he was perching on.

- Yes – Quiet mumbled, stabbing the practice dummy with his black dagger.

- That's it! Good work! – Kyla shook her wooden sword and shield behind him.

They set up a small training ground in their shared room, while the grown-ups did their own thing, whatever that may be. Kyla had practice dummies under her bed for her swordplay. Last night's adventure riled her up completely, she looked like she could train the entire world, so after waking up, she immediately got to work, not even changing out from her pajamas.

- But I do no want to hurt people – Quiet complained as he drew back from the poor dummy.

- Papa always tells me there are a lot of bad people who deserve a sword up their arse! Besides, Sanctuary is full of monsters, like those stupid Crawlers. You can hurt those, they are ugly and stupid anyway – Kyla shooed it away. – And you are going on an adventure! You have to be ready.

- Children shouldn't go on adventures – Jeralt added timidly.

- I have to – Quiet shook his head.

- Now, let's practice another stab! – Kyla regained the lead.

Quiet stared at the dagger. He didn't want to use it, but Leendonn gave it to him to stay safe. Kyla was right, he should learn to use it, but he didn't want to.

- Are you crying again? – he heard Kyla say.

Quiet quickly wiped off his tears with a loud sob.

- I'm s—skerd – he stammered.

- Oh, Quiet – Kyla lowered her weapons, voice surprisingly soft. – It's alright.

- We are worried about you too – Jeralt jumped off from his perch and rushed there to embrace him.

- You are going on a big adventure. It's okay to feel skerd – Kyla patted his head, smiling sadly. – Papa always tell me that everyone is skerd all the time. Real brave heroes fight and save people and go on adventure despite that!

Quiet nodded with tear-filled eyes, returning the hugs. He had quickly gotten used to this gesture and he knew he was going to miss it terribly during the traveling. Teeriel most certainly won't hug him, that grumpy man.

The knot in his throat twisted further at this thought, and all Quiet could do was hold his two friends close to him for as long as possible.

oooOOOooo

King Torion was coming home from a long hunting trip, and that meant even more people on the streets than usual. Tyrael carved their way in the crowd that was milling about, hoping to see the ruler and its entourage pass by soon. Inarius was thankfully stuck to his heel, dutifully and silently following him.

- We are going to use the main road's Waypoint – Tyrael called back over his shoulder, explaining their plan. – That should take us to New Tristram, then to Lut Gholein, and from there we can take a boat.

- Alright – Inarius mumbled.

He didn't sound convinced, but out of the two of them, Tyrael knew the map, and if memory served him right, he knew exactly where the Cathedral of Light was. He still did not believe it to be a good idea to visit that place, especially without Lyndon. But he also knew that if he tried to get them off-course, Inarius would eventually find out somehow, given his immense powers, and then there would be hell to pay. Or the little angel would simply go on his own way and that would be even worse. If Lyndon didn't skin Tyrael alive then, the gods of Sanctuary would.

This whole situation was terribly unfair, Tyrael concluded sourly.

It took them a good while to get to the southern gate of the city. They did not see Torion along the way, the man probably hadn't even reached the outer walls yet. Outside of the city, beyond the drawbridge, Tyrael stopped for a minute. He adjusted his backpack and leather armor that got disheveled in the crowd, then took a deep breath.

- Inarius – he turned around.

- That is no my name – the little angel grumbled, absentmindedly fidgeting with a fat purse of coins in his hands.

- Yes, it is, you just don't remember it – Tyrael dismissed the statement. – Anyway, listen, this journey will be very perilous. If we want to stay safe and—

He paused.

Purse?!

Tyrael checked his own bag, but that was still hanging from his belt. The one Inarius was playing with was made out of expensive blue velour with a golden locker and pearls sewed into the fabric.

- Inarius… where did you get that purse?! – Tyrael demanded with huge eyes.

- A fat man had it. I took it – Inarius answered simply, looking up at the fallen angel like everything was alright.

- You stole it?!

- I took it. Leendonn always does it when we are in big cities – Inarius cocked his head to the side. – He makes sure nobody sees it, but I do. It looks like fun. And the fat man didn't see me taking it, so I did good!

Oh, for fu—!

- I'm going to murder Lyndon! – Tyrael blurted out, feeling the blood rising to his head from anger.

- No, you won't! He's good! You are friends, essholl!

- Stealing from people is wrong!

- No, it isn't! Leendonn does it, and he is good! He does no do bad things! He taught me to be good – Inarius stomped his little foot, sending a considerable shockwave through the ground, while hugging the purse close to his chest.

Tyrael turned away, taking deep breaths to rein himself in.

Lyndon, I swear to Anu…

- Lyndon is… good, alright. I agree – he finally turned back to the angry and confused Inarius. – But not everything he does is "good". He does a lot of bad things. Stealing from others is one of them!

- But only bad people do bad things! – Inarius countered, frowning at the strange image.

- No. Good people can do very bad things as well. Bad people can do good things, although that is rarer – Tyrael adamantly shook his head. – Listen, Inarius. Stealing is bad. That man worked hard for his coin! You cannot just take it from him.

- Why not?

Tyrael suddenly struck out and tore Inarius' cape off of his shoulders. The little angel cried out in alarm and uselessly reached for the fabric, which Tyrael held high.

- Give it back!

- See, I stole this cape from you. How do you feel about that?

- Essholl!

- That is why we do not steal from people – Tyrael frowned at the little angel helplessly jumping for his cape. – This is a bad habit Lyndon's doing. He shouldn't be stealing at all, but I cannot make him understand that.

He handed back the cape to Inarius who quickly wrapped it around himself, fuming with anger.

- We cannot take the purse back to the man because we don't know whom you stole from – Tyrael shook his head, finally starting down on the main road leading from the city. – But I do not want to see it happen ever again, Inarius. Alright?

- Sonuvabeech…

Tyrael took that as an affirmative, he was too busy silently cursing Lyndon for being so irresponsible than to pay mind to the insult.

This journey would be even harder than he originally dreaded.

They had put maybe half-a-kilometer between themselves and the southern gate, when clapping sounded up and an entourage on horseback emerged from the nearby forest. The leading mount was clad in expensive and intricate armor, its rider sporting an equally well-adorned but much lighter leather armor and a cape of wendigo fur. He had four guards riding behind him, the last two dragging something in the dirt behind them.

Something that was crying and begging.

- King Torion! – Tyrael called out, recognizing the man in the front.

- Tyrael, my friend! – The old man laughed heartily as he stopped his convoy before the travelers. – Setting out on the road, I see.

- Yes, I have… important business to attend to – Tyrael nodded, uncertainly eyeing the obscure package behind the horses' legs.

- Who's the child? – Torion leant from his saddle to take a good look at them.

- I'm Quiet – the little angel mumbled, timidly glancing up at the king. – Hello…

- Oh, he's… a cousin of Lorath. I promised him I'd take him back to Bramwell – Tyrael quickly answered, almost biting his own tongue in the process.

- You should have left through the eastern gate then, lad! – Torion laughed.

- Shut the hell up already! – one of the guards barked behind his back, at the struggling baggage in the mud.

- I see the hunt was… successful? – Tyrael noted uncertainly.

- More than successful! I was actually hoping to ask for your advice on this matter – Torion suddenly got off of his horse, crushing the fallen angel against his side by his shoulders, and guiding him to the end of the convoy. Inarius silently followed them.

Before Tyrael could ask what was going on, he finally laid eyes on the catch, and the air got stuck in his throat. It was a man, over two meters tall. He wore brown rags that had already been worn out, even before being dragged through the mud for gods know how long. Magical ropes tied him up, all he could do was thrash around helplessly.

- No—please… I just want to go home! I did nothing wrong, I swear! I was in the Fortress, I did not set foot upon Sanctuary, please—

The man had no face, and six arms grew out of his side, each now restrained.

- An anarch – Tyrael breathed, unable to say anything more.

- So these Reaper scum have names – Torion snorted disapprovingly.

- I wasn't on Sanctuary, I did not—

- SHUT THE HELL UP, SERIOUSLY! – roared the guard dragging the angel.

- How—how did you capture him? – Tyrael turned to Torion with wide eyes.

- He had been unlucky enough to run into us during our hunt in these forests. We did not hesitate to capture him. I am planning to display him on the main square. The people need some way to let out their frustration, after all. I wanted to ask you for your help in this matter. If we execute him, will he be able to return and kill us once again?

Tyrael did not answer, he slowly walked up to the struggling angel and knelt next to him. The anarch had no visible wings at all.

- You… please help. I just wish to go home – he pleaded with Tyrael. – I did not kill mortals. I was in the Fort. My lord had me guard him. I wanted to return to the Silver City, but I couldn't. The Arch didn't let me! It didn't let me go through! Please, I want to go home, please!

The mortal angel was unable to form words, his mind was reeling from this discovery. If the Arch did not let this anarch through to be reborn in the High Heavens… What did that mean for the rest of the Wisdom angels?

What did that mean for Malthael?!

- The big gloomy bastard's here on Sanctuary, isn't he? – Torion drawled behind him, voice heavy with premonition. – That Malthael, right? He came back from the dead.

- No—no. He had to be reborn. He's an archangel, he's the Firstborn, he had to have made it! He isn't here, I swear—

Inarius swooped in, pushed Tyrael aside and grabbed the anarch's collar, pulling him close.

- Wretched spawn of Anu – he hissed in a low, but deep voice. – You dare exist upon my world, you filth?! I should kill you and send your head to the Firstborn as a warning!

Tyrael reeled back, shocked at the outburst. Torion raised an eyebrow in the background but remained surprisingly calm.

- No, please! Mercy! I only wish to see my home – the anarch choked, his voice broken with terror.

Inarius bore his blazing red eyes into the captive's empty hood.

- Stay in this miserable form then, it is a great punishment already for you – he finally said, letting go. – But your worthless master will rue the day he had disturbed my slumber in the Scar of Creation.

Tyrael dragged Inarius away from there.

- Go away, bad angel – the little angel spat one final time, voice back to normal.

- Bramwell, huh? – Torion glanced at Tyrael after an awkward pause.

- Torion, I—

- I do not want to know, Tyrael – the king waved the excuse away. – Whatever you got yourself and… this child into this time, it looks like you want to keep me out of this, correct?

-… Yes, I do. Forgive my lies from before.

- I appreciate the effort. As long as it doesn't affect Westmarch, I wish to keep my distance from this mess. There is enough trouble with ruling already.

- It is a more personal matter – Tyrael shook his head. – With any luck, it won't escalate into anything more.

- And this… anarch worm? What do you think?

Tyrael looked down at the prone angel who seemingly gave up the fight. He still couldn't fully comprehend the consequences of this discovery, but he had to push that aside for now.

- My king… do not display this angel out in public, I implore you! – he turned to Torion, who looked taken aback.

- Really? How so?

- While you were away, Johanna passed through the city. There is something strange going on with her, and she stoked the fires against the High Heavens.

- She did what?! A war against the angels?! – Torion's eyes grew large, his guards murmured among themselves worryingly.

- Not yet, but she is preparing the people for it, it looks like. She is spreading her message in every major city, from what we can tell.

- By Akarat, that's suicide! Our world was barely left standing after Malthael! What is she thinking?!

- That, I do not know. But if you take this angel to the square now, that will only make the people more riled up. They will demand action.

- Sssshit – was all Torion could say as he looked away, deep in thought. – And if we kill him now?

- The Arch might let him through this time, but—

- We can't have that!

- No, Torion, listen. He will probably remain the Heavens, tending to the Pools of Wisdom. He will not retain his memory from his former life.

- Probably?!

- Only archangels retain their memories and personalities if they are reborn through the Arch – Tyrael hurried with an explanation. – Every other angel loses their old self. They become a different person altogether, with a clean slate to start out with.

-… And if this Arch thing does not allow him through?

- I… don't know. That never happened before in the history of the High Heavens.

- It rejected me – the anarch whispered, heartbroken. – It said I was no angel. I did not belong… The Arch abandoned me.

- So… we cannot execute him publicly – Torion mused aloud. – And if we kill him, he might come back and stay stuck in the High Heavens… where the leading gloomy bastard might recruit him again for a second round. Do I see that correctly?

- If Malthael did make it back, he would remember what had transpired, yes – Tyrael nodded, uneasily glancing up at the sky. – I cannot tell what his next action would be. Perhaps he realized his mistake and abandoned his plans. Or maybe the Angiris Council restrained him after his attack on their gates.

- That's a lotta unhealthy assumption, lad – Torion frowned at him. – I can only work with certainties. I am throwing this bastard in the dungeon! At least until we figure out what the hell to do with him.

- That… maybe the best solution right now. I cannot think of another way, my king – Tyrael sighed, conceding.

As much as it pained him to sentence one of his kin to imprisonment, he also could not, would not forget the corpse-littered streets of Westmarch, nor the twisted halls of the Pandemonium Fortress filled to the brim with screaming, begging souls. Malthael had always been a persuasive speech giver, whenever he had decided to actually talk, but ultimately it was every Wisdom angel's own choice to follow him and turn into a monster. There was no ignoring that or explaining it away.

But if the Arch disowned so many angels, would it really let the one be reborn who started this whole sacrilege in the first place, archangel or not? Tyrael had to once again push the troubling thought aside. No matter the answer, there wasn't anything he could do about it, and he had to focus on his own situation.

- Alright then, we will need to smuggle this scum into the city – Torion walked back to his proud horse. – Joel, Tono, you two will take him to the secret passage of the Palace, and go through there. Understood?

- Yes sir!

- As for you, Tyrael – the king turned back to his former comrade, getting on his horse.

The mortal angel stood tall, one hand held Inarius close to his leg, who was thankfully silent now but still glaring daggers at the motionless anarch.

- I wish you the best of luck on this trip, wherever it may lead – Torion slightly nodded to him, shooting a worrying glance at the child by his side. – I hope this personal matter will remain personal.

- I will do everything in my power to achieve that, my king – Tyrael bowed slightly.

The entourage set out towards Westmarch again, the chargers' hooves thundering against the dry ground. Tyrael looked after them, not sure what to think of this encounter.

- So… you are the Worldstone, not just its power – he mumbled then, recalling the outburst of Inarius.

- I do no know what Wurldston is. But that is a bad angel. Ugly too – Inarius grumbled.

- And you hate Malthael.

- Maltael made all those monsters and that bad magic in the ground.

And apparently, the Worldstone took an issue with him discovering it ages ago, Tyrael thought.

- How did you come back, after you were destroyed? – he couldn't help but ask as they slowly began walking as well.

- I was no destroyed – Inarius glanced up at him with confusion. – I was with Leendonn.

Tyrael quickly clamped his mouth shut, not wanting to jog the angel's memory with anything more. He could not wait until they reached that damnable Waypoint. After the Skeletal Crawler siege, realizing that Lyndon had been stupid enough to unwittingly teach the kid how to steal, and discovering that disowned Wisdom angels were indeed roaming on Sanctuary, this first kilometer couldn't possibly get any worse.

The walk to the Waypoint was thankfully uneventful. At one point they left the main road's side and went deeper into the forest. Tyrael could see a dark smudge swoop by in the corner of his eye, but it was just a bird. The beasts of the forest stayed clear of them, no doubt thanks to Inarius and his strange connection to the world.

There, on a paved clearing a Waypoint shimmered with calm blue light, its torches standing vigil for centuries now. It was surrounded by a few baskets of bread, fruits and wine, an offering from a nearby village. Superstitious folk believed the Waypoints to be gathering places for spirits, so they tried to curry favor with them by these offerings and gain blessings for their crops and animals. Tyrael exhaled loudly, greatly relieved. He quickened his steps, dragging the complaining Inarius along, and stepped onto the richly adorned magic seal. Finally, they could actually start their journey. Maybe it will be smoother from now on.

Tyrael pictured the main square of New Tristram, the warm light of the inn nearby, the narrow streets—

Inarius screeched and struck his side, sending him flying with a smaller shockwave. Tyrael smacked hard into the pavement, quickly rolling on his belly.

- INARIUS, HOW DARE YOU— – he roared, summoning El'druin to his hand.

The thundering red firestorm in front of him made him freeze up however. The Waypoint's blue torches turned blood red and danced around in mad circles where Tyrael had stood a second ago. Inarius was on the other side of the fire, looking just as shocked as the mortal angel. With some difficulty, Tyrael slowly looked down at the richly adorned Waypoint.

The far too richly adorned Waypoint.

He realized too late what he was seeing. The fire took up the shape of a blazing portal from which scaly clawed hands emerged. Someone had rigged the Waypoint with an extra layer of magic seal. One that led straight to the Burning Hells.

Tyrael stood up, El'druin at the ready as the demon emerged from the portal.


Because easy travels are for the weak!

Also, GG Lyndon. GG. Now Tyrael has a master thief prodigy on his hands. Let us pray for him, cupcakes. Let's see what else is in store for him.

The double upload has been done, Act III is officially on the way. :D As things stand currently, it will probably be around the same length as Act I had been. Although me being a Discovery Writer, that shit ain't set in stone. Don't hold your breaths. :P

Thank you for reading and for your continued patience, cupcakes! See you soon! Hopefully.

Lore & Trivia Corner

- General / King Torion: Former general of the city guard, Torion had lived through countless crazy shit. Over twenty years ago, he had defended the city against a tide of cat-sized zombie spiders, while the necromancer Zayl took care of the source itself. He had been there when the Reapers descended on the city, and it was due to his work that the Zakarum church and the Survivors' Enclave were won back from the monsters and kept safe. With King Justinian IV dead, he had been elected for the throne, to guide the kingdom back onto the path of prosperity.

- Waypoints: Created by the Horadrim over three hundred years ago, these magic circles are the best way to travel around Sanctuary fast. Unfortunately their usage was mostly lost to the ages, along with everything else the Horadrim did, and today only a few people know how to activate their dormant magic. Simple folks believe these seals are gathering places for spirits or demons, so they tend to stay clear of them.