Just barely, but still in time!
www-.-diablo-that-first-spark-.-tumblr-.-com
Chapter 51
Tyrael stumbled along an uneven path inside a tight cave. His hands hurt, his head hurt, his back hurt, and he was almost certain those annoying lights dancing around him were not part of the actual environment. Sitting down for a second and just catching his breath sounded very appealing, but Tyrael knew he had to keep going to…
To—to where exactly? Oh dear, what was he doing, again?
Tyrael almost came to a halt, but just then he noticed a small puddle of water before him, with a reflection of the High Heavens in it.
Right! Right! He had to go to the Silver City and warn everyone!
Tyrael continued his less than stable but at least consistent marching. The floor smoothened out into stone tiles, the walls straightened themselves and the ceiling formed above him finally. The corridor grew darker and less welcoming with the occasional side door, which the mortal angel steadfastly ignored. Mostly because unholy howling came from most of them. Was this the Fist? Anu damnit, this was the Fist! Tyrael bristled, letting out an offended trill. He comes here to relay a warning to his siblings and they throw him in here without question?! Wait… or did Tyrael open a portal here? Maybe? Why would he do that, though? The Fist was deliberately like a maze, he risked getting stuck in here!
Well… usually he would risk getting stuck in here, right now it seemed quite straightforward for some reason. Right on cue, he reached the giant heavy and currently wide open iron double doors and stumbled out into the Halls of Valor. That's… not how Tyrael remembered the architecture but he didn't have time to ponder on it, because right there and then he also ran face first into the brass-golden armor of Imperius.
- Tyrael – rumbled the giant angel in a bit of a distant and murky voice. Outside of a ripple that ran across his form, he didn't seem fazed by the accident.
Tyrael stumbled back, blood flowing down his face. In a panicked hurry he wiped it off, only to realize it was mere water. Oh thank Anu!
- Tyrael, what in the Hells are you doing? – came the gruff question.
- Imperius, listen to me! – Tyrael shook the remaining water out of his eyes, his tongue barely keeping up with the speed of his thoughts. – Johanna is watching you! She killed the Sisterhood, stole the mirror and is calling for a Sanctuary-wide rebellion against the High Heavens—
- What are you blabbering—Who's Johanna? – Imperius stared at him, his wings positively drooped from confusion.
- Are you kidding me?! She's the—
- I'm right here, watch your tongue!
And there she was. Johanna, in her full Crusader-gear, smugly and lazily swinging her dreaded flail, behind Imperius to the side.
- She is right there! – Tyrael shouted, rearing back and covering his mouth in shock.
- Who—where?! – Imperius turned around, staring straight at the Nephalem but apparently not registering her.
- Right there, for Anu's sake!
- I'm not the only one you should be worried about – Johanna frowned at Tyrael, not even the least interested in Valor. – In fact, there are quite a lot of us. Would you not agree?
Before Tyrael could answer, Malthael stepped out of the shadows, brandishing his horrible sickles. Whatever the mortal angel was trying to say got stuck in his throat from the sheer dread and cold that flooded him upon seeing his brother. For a second, he keenly felt the tip of the sickle sinking into the left side of his chest and being lifted by it, as well as the sensation of his soul leaving his body through his eyes.
By the time he snapped out of it, Imperius was framed by an entire crowd of people. There was Izual in his demonic form, grinning down on him. Balzael, that traitor regarded him with a smoldering glare. On the far side, Adria lazily swung her staff back and forth with that same horrifyingly empty expression that made it absolutely damn clear she did not feel a lick of guilt for what she had done. Reapers, twisted into horrible shapes from their angelic beauty gathered around Tyrael. Even Kormac and Eirena were in the crowd, former covered in burn marks on his armor, the latter having chickens run around her feet for some reason. The mortal angel could not decide whether to feel terrified or downright furious. All of these people sparked rage in him, yet most of them, especially Malthael and Johanna, reminded him painfully sharply of his own mortality and that made him afraid.
Hard as it was to admit.
The crowd closed in on him, there was no direction he could turn to find an escape route.
- You will have to deal with us, Archangel of Nothing – Johanna hissed at him gleefully. – Sooner. Or later.
Tyrael grabbed after El'druin but the sword did not show up. He was alone, he was smothered, he couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, he—
- Brother! Wake up!
The crowd was parted forcefully and Inarius in all his angelic glory fell forward from the rows, grabbing the panicking Tyrael's head with both hands.
- Wake up! – he shouted, shaking the mortal angel forcefully.
And Tyrael bolted upright, head colliding with Quiet's.
Both fell back with a painful yelp, Tyrael landing on something soft. Forcing his eyes to open properly, he beheld spears—no, stalagmites hanging above him, barely visible in the darkness that enveloped almost everything. Pushing himself up with his elbows, it took him a few moments of dumbfounded staring to register that they were inside a cave, with nothing but a small campfire to give light. From somewhere farther away, faint pattering of rain could be heard, and a brief but cold draft told him they were relatively close to the entrance. Before him, on the cold ground Quiet was just sitting up as well, his tiara fully golden, wings lacking the ruby wrists. But before Tyrael could say a single word, those were gone and the little angel turned back to normal.
- Ow. Essholl – he grumbled with closed eyes, massaging his forehead.
Exhaustion crashing into him out of nowhere, Tyrael fell back onto the soft thing behind him (folded blankets maybe?) and exhaled loudly. His back hurt, more specifically in two larger spots above his shoulder blades, for some unexplained reason. His hands also hurt, with his fingers tingling and driving him crazy. It took him a moment to recall just about anything, but before long the memories of the Eastgate Keep assaulted him and he violently flinched at them.
Strangely enough, he could not remember coming to this cave.
- Where are we? – Tyrael croaked.
He moved to massage his forehead but his palm touched surprisingly smooth skin in one spot, giving him a pause.
- A cave – Quiet poked the fire with a stick. – You took us here.
- I did?
- Yes.
-… And then?
- I dunno much, I was asleep. But you changed the ribbons on me. Then when I woke up, you were very strange. And stoopid.
- How so? – Tyrael closed his eyes, already regretting his question.
- Well – Quiet thought for a moment. – You had a bad wound on your head. I tried to heal it, but you walked around too much, talking to yourself about a fist and a koounseel and you whistled a lot and… well, it was weird. Then it started raining and water came in from the ceiling. So you cut a hole in the ground to gather the water, but then you poked it and said something weird. Then you smacked your head into the water, then started shouting at it and said "Imperiusss" and "Johhana" and "Maltael" and "Balzel", I think? Also the water talked back, but it was muffled so I really didn't understand. And then you just fell back and fell asleep. I could heal your head then and put you to bed. But then you started shouting again so I tried to wake you up.
Tyrael stared at Quiet. And stared. And stared some more.
- They helped me getting better, too – Quiet mumbled, shyly pointing upwards.
To this, the mortal angel realized that what appeared by the weak light of fire to be a normal ceiling of the cave, was actually an entire horde of bats, hanging from the rocks and staying uncharacteristically silent. That is, until one in the crowd let out a loud chirp. To this, every last bat began chittering, climbing and flapping their wings, creating an unholy cacophony of noise. Mysterious red light streamed from their waving, twisting midst and Quiet's gemstones shone with the same power. The little angel waved at them and they immediately stopped, falling back into the grave silence as before.
-… Just like the scarabs in Corvus – Tyrael mumbled in disbelief.
- The many bugs? Yes. They helped me too. These furry things were also kind. Their voice and moving make me feel better, it healed my arm so I could heal you.
- How does… that even work?
Quiet only shrugged, clearly just as clueless as Tyrael was. The mortal angel let the matter go and instead, tried to digest what he recalled. He could remember most of what happened in the Eastgate Keep, including him smacking his forehead into the stone stairs and leaving most of his cloak behind to the cheating necromancer demon thing. In all honesty, considering the fact that in the end they managed to bury the bastard with the entire keep, both the head injury and his beloved cloak had been a damn small price to pay.
Although, knowing their luck, the demon was probably still not dead. A shame.
Tyrael frowned, staring at the bored gathering of bats above him. Certain things seemed a bit… hazy in his memory, he realized. He knew he won a fight against eight undead Rogues, but he couldn't quite recall the exact details. It wasn't uncommon, of course, adrenaline could mess with mortal minds after the emergency was over. Still, Tyrael could have sworn at one point he threw El'druin at the attackers. Why would he do that? He knew precisely how bad of a shot he had always been, even in his immortal life. He had also sent the undead flying… somehow.
While he was at it, how did they avoid being buried by the keep, exactly? Zaim did a damn fine job of basically yanking the earth out from under the walls, but—
"I must say, Tyrael, that was an exceptional gliding you have performed."
The mortal angel could feel sweat trickle down on the back of his neck. Glide? Did he truly glide back there? That would explain their getaway, but it sounded just too unbelievable. He had given up his wings to be a mortal… Tyrael quickly stomped down on that thought before it could make way for far too many, and very dangerous, feelings.
No, he did the right thing. He needed to be on Sanctuary and help stop the End Days from happening. He needed to wake up his siblings to what was going on. Everything he did had been necessary. Anything else besides that was… irrelevant, and Tyrael left it at that.
He hoped so, at least.
- Teeriel?
The mortal angel snapped out of his darkening thoughts and lifted his head to look at the little angel.
- How did you make the water talk? – Quiet asked, pointing at the makeshift pool Tyrael made into the floor. – I can no—not make the ground or the water talk, they just do as I say. How did you do it?
- Oh, I, uhm…
- Is it angel magic? – the little angel's eyes lit up with excitement.
- N—yes, I mean, scrying is angelic magic. But it wasn't the water that had spoken – Tyrael quickly gathered his thoughts, secretly glad to be able to focus on something else.
- Skrrreng?
- No. Scrying. Sc-ryyying – the mortal angel said slowly, sitting up and massaging his back with a slight hiss.
- Skrrreyyyeng – Quiet tried again, little wings darting all over the place.
- Almost.
- Skrrayyying…?
-… Close enough.
- What is skrrayying?
- Scrying is – Tyrael gathered his thoughts, glancing in defeat at the now dirty and useless pool. – It is a kind of magic that allows you to see things far away.
- I can see far away.
- Even farther than that.
- Oh.
- In order for it to work, you need a very clean reflective surface, like collected rain water or special mirrors. There are many types of scrying, but the most common one is when you picture a person or a place you want to see and if you can recall them clearly, they will appear. If you do not know where they are, only they appear and not their environment.
- That's not very helpful…
- It can be, under the right circumstances – Tyrael shook his head. – Scrying is usually used to find someone or something, but a more complicated version only angels can create is used to talk to that someone as well.
- So you talked to someone in the water?
- To Imperius, if my dream is anything to go by – the mortal angel recalled that complete insanity of a vision he had had.
-… The always angry big angel?
- Yes. I… I wanted to tell something very important to him. But the pool is now useless.
… Did he really need to warn him, though? Tyrael couldn't help but wonder as he slowly got up to stretch his muscles and work out the strange pains from his body. Imperius had made quite a song and dance about declaring Tyrael his enemy after that masterpiece of a catastrophe that was the Black Soulstone Heist. It hadn't been Valor who sent that rabid Sicarai after him, true, but Imperius still wanted to drag him into a public trial ending in possibly execution. All that, because Tyrael had dared to see and act against the corruption of the Stone nobody else was detecting. Truth to be told, when Malthael attacked the Heavens, and later when he was struck down, that not-so-little detail had not come up even once between them. Tyrael suspected it was due to the sheer amount of shock and horror of witnessing the gruesome fate of the family eldest. Imperius especially fell silent like the grave and merely stared at the burn mark in the floor. That didn't really matter on the long run, and Tyrael felt rage swell up in his chest. The Council had cast him out because he had no wings! He swore off any connection with the High Heavens as of yet, so much so that he took out the small angelic opal box he used to open a portal from his pocket, and left it in Westmarch. The Council would just refuse his warnings again, anyway! Let them deal with this in their great pride!
Tyrael stopped and blinked like an owl.
Wha—what was he thinking?! The rift between him and his siblings hurt, true, but that was no excuse! He was still an ambassador between angels and humans, and the High Heavens were still very much his home! W—where did he get this ridiculous notion to leave them behind like this?! Tyrael shook his head, chastising himself. Has he truly lost his mind?! Yes, he was risking a drastic answer from the Council with this news (if they even listened, that is), but Johanna was the one force that could not, should not be ever ignored.
Deafening chirping snapped him out of his jumbled thoughts. The bats dispersed amidst an insane cacophony of noise and disappeared into the depths of the cave. Tyrael finally looked around himself. He realized the soft thing he had been lying on was a stalactite halfway turned into a pillow. He didn't know if he could ever get used to this insane levels of matter manipulation, and couldn't help but ponder just how much of a good idea it was for a child to have it.
Who was also half his own rhythm-brother and half "bloodthirsty cynical world creating gemstone". Let's not leave that detail out.
As if I had a saying in this matter, he thought tiredly.
It wasn't like he could just undo what happened. He had basically unleashed the apparently legitimately vengeful Worldstone upon the world, he figured he should be thankful it only ended in the appearance of a most unusual child.
Tyrael shook his head, vanquishing these thoughts. His mind was especially dark today, and he did his best to regain his composure. He stretched his fingers, relieved to feel the tingle leaving his bones finally. Looking behind himself, he noted the new scrying pool in the ground, filled with fresh rain water and the patiently waiting Quiet next to it.
- Uhm… thank you – Tyrael blinked.
- Welcome – Quiet mumbled, shuffling back a bit. – You can talk to Imperius with it?
- I will most certainly try. You should stay out of sight, however.
- But I wanna see the big angry angel! He sounds funny – Quiet whined, wings raised in agitation.
- That may be, but I do not want him to see you – Tyrael waved the protest away. – Normally, you wouldn't show up in the scrying, true, but I am not taking any chances.
- Esshol – Quiet puffed up his cheeks, plopping down on a rock a bit farther away.
- Stop using that word. It is most impolite – Tyrael stated matter-of-factly, sitting down by the small pool.
- You are impolite!
- I am just making sure we are not getting into any more trouble than we absolutely have to. Trust me, Imperius is far less funny than you believe.
With that Tyrael pointed at the water and murmured the necessary spell. He pictured Imperius before himself as he gently drew perfect circles on the pool's surface, not just that golden glorious armor and halo, but also the boisterous, brave and devoid of all manners of shame, self-awareness or doubt personality. One did not need to know the target's appearance perfectly – knowing them well could work just as fine. His touch started leaving a shining line on the surface and soon the water itself rippled in a mesmerizing way, revealing the rapidly clearing form of Imperius.
Sunlight greeted him, filtered through tainted glass windows to paint their own masterpiece onto the floor of the titanic work chamber. The ceiling was made up of flying arches and vaults, weaving themselves into an almost hypnotic pattern that sometimes opened up to give room to massive murals of triumph and bravery. The walls were adorned with stems from the ceiling vaults, they held massive demonic heads as trophies – foes of such ferocity and might, they have earned a very special kind of immortality within Valor's personal chamber. One corner of the room was filled with all manners of ranged and melee weapons, carefully polished and organized on racks, along with rags, whetstones of different shapes and sizes, sheaths, quivers, scabbards, belts, gauntlets and whatever else you might want in a battle. Not a single one of the collection was out of place, they were tucked away neatly, grouped and kept in line. Valor was a surprisingly orderly person when not in combat.
The Archangel was sitting by his massive lion-feet desk of black and gold stone, doing something he actually rarely did – paperwork. Usually he was too energetic (and big) to be effective in this field, but now he was sitting surprisingly calmly, scribbling away with his custom-made iron quill. His fiery wings rested on the floor, not nearly as bright as they should be.
All this Tyrael saw from a few meters away, so he willed the image to get a tad bit closer before speaking up.
- Imperius?
The quill in Valor's hand stopped, the helmet slightly raised. But no answer came. Instead, the quill started writing again.
- Imperius! It is me, Tyrael. I am scrying right now.
Still, no answer. The dimmed wings twitched a little, but that was it.
… Silent treatment? Really?! The anger returned with backup and Tyrael was a hair's length away from just punching the pool and ending the spell right there and then.
- Is it no—t working? – came Quiet's timid voice.
Tyrael glanced up at the small child. He took two deep breaths, forcing down his pride with some titanic willpower.
- Johanna… the Nephalem Hero of Sanctuary is using an enchanted mirror to spy on the High Heavens – he then turned back to the pool, just barely stopping himself from hissing venomously.
The quill froze again and Imperius finally, finally raised his head completely, listening silently. Tyrael stopped for a second, choosing his next words carefully.
- She is… planning something against you. What, I know not, but the artifact she uses is formidable. She can see and listen into even the most well-protected chambers. Be aware of it!
The silence grew nigh-unbearable. Quiet whimpered and curled up on his rock. Tyrael mentally prepared himself for the massive explosion Imperius was about to demonstrate. The tirade was no doubt going to be endless – "I told you she would be corrupted! She is half-demon! Mortals are nothing more than a weapon to be used by the Hells! We should have burnt that place eons ago!"
Minutes passed and nothing happened.
-… That is all – Tyrael said finally.
He made a move to dismiss the spell, unsure whether or not it actually worked even, but just then Imperius twitched. He settled the quill down, staring down at the papers before him. What was going on with him? Tyrael had never ever seen Valor so… burnt out, for the lack of better words. Did something happen in the Silver City? Had they been attacked, perhaps?!
… But then Valor would not have been in this state. War seemed to give him endless energy and fire.
- Mephisto's main fort within the Hells is empty.
Tyrael needed a moment to realize it was Imperius who spoke. The gruff voice came out tired, yet so suddenly he didn't connect it at first.
- I-wha—?
- Inarius' chamber… is empty. We don't know if he had died. The choir is still investigating the Arch for his resonance.
Tyrael froze.
- Be aware of that. That is all – Imperius finished, slowly standing up.
Tyrael dismissed the spell numbly. Barely daring to glance up, he saw "Quiet" once again missing the gemstones from his body. They locked eyes, only a handful of meters separating them, yet they seemed worlds apart.
- You knew where I was – Inarius said softly.
There was nothing to answer to that. Spying on the Hells has always been a tactic of the Heavens of course. And Malthael regularly made sure that the Traitor to the Eternal Conflict remained in his place.
Inarius stared down at the ground, sucking in a long breath.
- After all this time… and suffering… Will they still hunt me, brother? – he asked in an even softer tone.
- I do not know – was all Tyrael could say.
Inarius let out a muffled mewl, raising one hand to his head. He ducked further down and a shiver ran across his form. The gem wrists on his wings appeared and spread, the entirety of the golden tiara turned into ruby.
- If they come, I will slaughter them to the last. Mark my words! – the Worldstone glanced back up at Tyrael with unbridled venom and hatred. – Not a single one of them escapes their fate, not your siblings, not your underlings. Do you hear me, Third Note of Anu?!
With that, Quiet returned with a painful gasp and grabbed his head with both hands, eyes welling up.
- H-hurts – he choked out. – And—and I feel sad… Why do I feel sad? I did no do anything wrong now!
Tyrael strolled there and gently scooped him without a word. Quiet curled into the hug, still clutching his aching head, crying his tiny heart out in that oh so heart-wrenching voice. The mortal angel walked back to the small fire and plopped down on the half-pillow stalactite. He half-heartedly took a stick and poked the fire, stirring up some of the ash and ember at the bottom. He made sure his hold on Quiet was still firm, though.
Tyrael didn't know what to think, or even say. Was there even anything to say to this? Yes. The Council knew exactly Inarius' location and fate after the Sin War. They knew about the three different corridors and the two shafts leading into the mirror chamber. They knew Mephisto did not protect that one room in any way, no spells, no traps, no seals. The Prime Evil had not bothered with any of that because he knew the Council would never launch a rescue operation.
Because Mephisto, of all beings, knew exactly how hatred worked.
Now you risk an invasion from the High Heavens themselves, with that vague reporting of yours. You are truly lost, Fallen One.
Tyrael stopped for a second, he almost snapped the twig in his hand.
- Before this journey is done… Your stench will be cleansed from all of Creation, demon – he said simply then, returning to the poking.
We shall see, indeed.
oooOOOooo
The rain fell for very long, so long in fact that they had to sleep in the caves again.
If either of them could sleep, that is.
Quiet stared out the mouth of the cave, blanket twisted around him completely. The outside weather did not help the uncomfortable bubble inside him. He didn't know why he felt so bad now. It was different than when he missed Leendonn, or Ashava or Adenah or Izba. Those times he could tell why he felt sad, but this time, there was nothing. Maybe it was because of that very skerry big building with the very skerry tall pale man and the dead ladies? Quiet frowned. No, that was not it. That place was skerry yes, but also destroyed now. And that tall pale man made him angry instead of sad. Was it because the skrrayying didn't work? Wait, it did work! The water did talk back… although Quiet couldn't really recall what it… or rather, Imperiuss said.
Strange. But at least his head no longer hurt. That had been very very painful.
Turning back from the entrance he shuffled back inside, end of the blanket trailing behind him on the ground. Teeriel was sitting next to the fire, writing another letter for Soffia. He too was strangely silent. Maybe he was sad too. Quiet sat down not too far from him and looked at him some more. The sad bubble became bigger when he looked at Teeriel, which was very strange because he wasn't mean to Quiet for a long time now. They did not even shout at each other for anything. Teeriel protected him in the skerry building.
- Teeriel? – Quiet spoke up timidly after minutes of nothing but rain pattering.
- Hm?! Yes? – Teeriel snapped his head up in surprise.
- I can fix that for you… if you want – Quiet pointed at the very torn and now very short brown cape on his back.
He didn't really remember how Teeriel lost it, but it was textile, very easy to fix.
- Oh, I… – Teeriel looked at the cape too as if he forgot it was there.
He took the torn end and stared at it for long.
- It is… alright, Quiet – he finally said, smiling very faintly. – I will just get a new one at the next town.
- You sure?
- Yes, I am. Thank you, though. It is fine – Teeriel waved it away and went back to writing the letter.
Quiet curled back into his blanket uncertainly. He tightly held the edges with his small hands, rocking back and forth on his butt. He should be sleeping. He knew it was late, and he felt tired, but he couldn't sleep because of the sadness. He pursed his lips.
- T-Teeriel? – he asked again, even more timidly than before.
- Yes? – Teeriel glanced up at him from writing.
- Do you know a good story?
- A story?
- I can no—not sleep. Stories can help…
Teeriel blew out the air loudly, scratching his head.
- I'm not… a very good story-teller – he finally admitted.
- You know Imperiuss, right? Are there funny stories about him?
Teeriel leaned on his knees and thought long and hard.
- He's a… truly serious man. And his anger can get mighty and frightening. There is little humor about his being – he said slowly, before breaking out in a slightly wider grin than before. – But there are a few stories. Yes.
- Can you tell me one? – Quiet quickly scuttled to Teeriel's side which seemed to surprise the big man.
He snuggled into the blanket and listened intently.
- Well… uhm… you know Imperiuss is my brother, right? – Teeriel blinked at him.
- He is?
- Y-yes. I actually have fo—five siblings. I was the third oldest among them, while Imperiuss was the youngest for a long long time.
- What is it like to have siblings?
- Well… angelic siblings are vastly different than human siblings… but we did have many moments of joy and laughter together… as well as hardships – Teeriel said, his voice growing quieter by the minute.
- And… Imperiuss? Why was he the youngest?
- I do not know. That is how we were born, and he was the last one to emerge from the Arch… for a while at least – Teeriel shook his head, talking louder again. – But he really didn't like it.
- He didn't?
- No. He is big, loud, bois—I mean he acts very tough all the time and he really likes to remind everyone just how big and loud he is.
- Sounds annoying.
- It… can be tiring, yes. But one day, the Arch—
- What is the Arch? The nice lady in the garden asked me if I went through the Arch, and I said yes, many times because there are a lot of arches in cities. She said that is not what she meant. So what's an Arch?
- What nice lady? – Teeriel stared at him.
- In that hidden garden with the pond. After you were turned into chicken. You didn't see her because she was a rock, but she was actually a nice big angel lady, her name is Amaniel and we talked while I slept and she was very kind but also said a lot of strange words, and she said she was in love with a demon in the past and they had lots of babies together, but he died and she was very sad and remained here because this is her home.
- I… I see.
- Amaniel was very nice. It's a shame you didn't meet her. But yeah, she said something about the Arch. What is that?
- The Arch is… the Spine of Anu, in its other name.
- Sounds yucky.
- No, it is not – Teeriel actually chuckled at this. – It is a beautiful white crystal arch of light and sound and it is at the center of the Silver City, the home of all the angels.
- Where things are gold! – Quiet exclaimed happily.
- Yes, they are. How did you know?
- I remember! Everything is very shiny and big.
- Exactly. You see, most angels are bigger than humans, so they need bigger buildings. But back to the Arch. It is… the memory of a powerful god who existed before everything else.
- What did this god do?
- He fought a great and terrible evil, far more horrible than anything that lives today. And eventually the god won… but at a great cost. When he killed the monster, the monster also killed him.
- Did it bite him?! – Quiet gasped.
- I… don't know. Maybe?
- Ouch.
- Yes. But from the death of these two beings, the world as… well, almost as we know it today, came into being. Only two parts of the god survived his death. One is the Worrldston. We call it the "Eye of Anu" for that reason. The other part is the Arch.
- And you walk through this Arch?
- Angels are born from it. The Arch is constantly singing, you see. And when that song reaches a cres—a very loud point, a new angel is born from that song and we welcome them to their new home. Those angels who die also return to the Arch, to be reborn again later, as a completely different person.
- Sounds strange. But I like music – Quiet nodded thoughtfully. – So Imperiuss was very annoying, and…?
Teeriel needed a few moments to remember what they were talking about (he should pay more attention, really).
- Right. Imperiuss. So… he was the youngest, until one day the Arch began singing very loudly again and extraordinarily clearly. That meant only one thing: that an arkangel was being born.
- Like those big boats only in angels?
- No. An arkangel is a very powerful angel. There are only five of them. I am one.
- You are powerful? – Quiet stared at him.
Teeriel only answered with a glare to which the little angel chuckled.
- Aaanyway, yes, me and my siblings are the arkangels. Imperiuss was the fourth one and for a very long time, it looked like he would be the last one. But then the Arch gave birth to my fifth brother, Iterael. And that made Imperiuss truly happy.
- Why?
- Well… first, Imperiuss is a strong warrior but he is also a protector, so he was ecst—I mean, very very happy that he could look out for someone younger than him. But I reckon he was also happy not to be the youngest in our ranks finally.
- Do they like each other?
- Yes, they do. Granted, Iterael is… much more silent and much calmer than Imperiuss is and they often do not agree on things. But yes, they do like each other.
- It must be nice having a big brother – Quiet wondered aloud, sinking deeper into the blanket.
-… Yes, it is. I reckon.
- Leendonn is like a big brother to me?
- Well… brothers don't usually take as close care of each other as he does of you. But it can happen, yes.
Quiet hummed happily. Leendonn wasn't only his good friend, he was his big brother! That was very nice, yes. He hoped his friend was doing well now.
To be fair, Leendonn wouldn't be happy with him that he stayed up so late. But it was okay because Quiet was going to sleep already, he could feel it! The little angel snuggled into his bed and exhaled loudly, easily drifting away.
oooOOOooo
Tyrael woke up with a smaller start.
He didn't remember having any dreams, or even having fallen asleep in the first place. He was still in a half-sitting position, slightly aching back against the stalactite, and the sleeping Quiet pressed against his side. Yesterday's bittersweet memories came back in an instant to haunt him, and all Tyrael could do was sigh and allow them forward. Quiet's innocent question about a funny story of Imperius at first really gave him a pause, as all he could recall were all the grievances, the shouting, the arguing, the fights… but eventually he did recall one funny story. Then another one, then another one…
One did not live for millennia and not have hilarious things happen to him, even if only out of accident.
Tyrael couldn't really decide why he chose to tell the one about Itherael's birth (that had been such a strange day in his life). Honestly, he was just surprised he could still recall anything happy about his brother. Lately it felt like all that was there was bitterness and anger. But he still had those good memories which… somehow filled him with a bit of hope. Not much, but it was there. He could not allow his emotions to get the better of him like they almost did yesterday, he had to keep better control of them. He wrote about this problem to Sophie, even though receiving an answer from her will probably not happen in time. But just writing about the roiling cloud within him made him feel a bit relieved, even if only temporarily. He looked over the ridiculous stacks of letters he had had on him already. They really really needed to finally get to a bigger town and catch a messenger somehow.
- You sniff so loudly! – grumbled the half-asleep Quiet from next to him, disapprovingly burying himself deeper into his signature cocoon.
- You'd rather I whistled? – Tyrael raised an eyebrow.
- No. Stay silent.
- The rain has stopped, Quiet. We need to set out on the road again. The other side of the Tamoe Mountains is still some time away.
- Nnno.
- So we can go home and forget about the "grassy place"?
To this, Quiet finally began digging his way out of his cocoon, muttering and chittering under his nose. It looked like he wasn't truly affected by the events of yesterday, for which Tyrael was silently grateful. He knew better than to think he was completely off the hook, though. Inarius and the Worldstone were both in there, after all, and sooner or later they would confront him about this whole mess. As much as he hated the idea of that, his Justice side knew the reckoning would be well-deserved. Lately he had found more and more of the Council's past actions and decisions questionable, at best. He knew back then, especially from an angelic perspective, those decisions were mostly just. Mostly. Mortal point of view certainly complicated things.
While they got ready, Tyrael inspected their dwindling food supplies with a grimace. They would need to get to a town in a day or at best, two. That wasn't impossible, per se, but it would be a bit of a challenge with a child. Thankfully Haile's enchanted water sack still worked perfectly, so there was no shortage of drinkable water. Of course Quiet could always provide either of those resources with relative ease, but Tyrael did not want to overly rely on the little angel.
They broke camp (Quiet still half-asleep) and strode out of the cave into the fresh air finally. Tyrael took a deep deep breath from the breeze that danced around them, feeling a bit of energy returning into his bones.
Good morning, Tyrael!
The mortal angel almost fell forward.
- The mountain spoooke! – Quiet immediately woke up and pointed at the massive cliff wall before them with wide eyes.
Greetings, Allfather! It is an honor to meet after all this time!
- Zaim – Tyrael massaged his forehead. – A bit more of a heads up first?
My apologies, but it is a bit difficult to speak up without surprise in this state.
- I did no know mountains could talk! – Quiet exclaimed happily.
- No, it is Zaim, Sahptev God of Mountains – Tyrael gently petted him on the head. – Zaim, I thought you said your bounds were too strong?
They are, but they are loosening with time. I am here to give you quick transportation out of the mountains. If you'd have it, of course.
- Why do you help? – Quiet asked the cliff.
Allfather, your return brings an unprecedented chance for prosperity and safety. As gods, it is our duty to help that come to fruition, no matter what! exclaimed Zaim, almost excitedly.
- Uhhhmmm…
- He means he is very happy to have met you, and he wants to help you get to that grassy place and get stronger – Tyrael translated.
- Oh! Thank you! You are very kind! – Quiet waved at the cliff happily.
- So how can you assist us, Zaim?
Quite simple, really.
To this, a wide flat top rock plopped out of the ground, lower half still buried.
Do hop on.
- What? – Tyrael stared, but Quiet was already dragging him to the "funny pebble" as he put it.
Do not worry, I will not allow you to fall. But grab the edge before you, just in case.
Tyrael reluctantly knelt on the smooth surface, already having a bad feeling about this. Then the rock lurched forward and he knew immediately that it was a terrible idea.
They quite literally flew across the mountain pass at a speed that would have left a number of arrows in the dust. The rock slid across the terrain as if it was water, and all Tyrael could do was seal his mouth shut and hang on for dear life while also silently praying to Anu for their survival. Next to him, Quiet was having the time of his life, screeching in excitement, only one hand grabbing the edge for support, the other one and the wings opened wide. There was a couple of hard turns along the ride, all of which forced Tyrael to regret just about everything in his life, including being born.
Almost there! Isn't it fun, Allfather?
- FUUUUNNNNN! – Quiet screamed.
- Anu help me – was all Tyrael could utter out loud.
Finally, the end of the path appeared. The mountains opened up to a sudden arid plateau and the rock slowed down surprisingly smoothly, before coming to a full stop just beyond the cliffs that signaled the exit of the pass. Tyrael stared before himself, he could barely believe it was over. His entire body was rigid from tension, he needed moments to pry his own fingers off the rock. Quiet happily jumped off their ride and wildly waved at something:
- Hello!
That's when Tyrael finally realized they had company. Just a few meters before them, stood a husband and a wife with a donkey, packed with berries from the mountain side. They wore long robes and turbans of bright and varied colors, a typical clothing for the dry land of Aranoch. Both humans, hell, even the donkey looked absolutely shocked, standing there like statues.
- Greetings – Tyrael exhaled weakly, trying and failing for a smile, hand raised in a half-hearted wave.
I apologize for cutting it this damn close to the deadline. This month had been a bit of a challenge to juggle all my stuff, but I managed! With a bit of luck, the next chapter will come sooner next month. Although July has its own set of challenges set up for me…
No shit. News at eleven!
As always, thank you for reading and reviewing, cupcakes! See you in July!
Lore & Trivia Corner
- Tyrael's opal box: although insightful, the novel Storm of Light is, it can also be frustratingly vague at points. One of the best examples of such a detail was when they finally talked about how Tyrael could open portals to the Heavens or to Pandemonium so casually. And it is done by, and I quote, "placing a small object onto the ground, drawing a symbol around it, and speaking some unintelligible words". Dear Nate Kenyon. Thanks for that. I'm going to just make up my own stuff to fill in the gaps then.
- The original tone of this chapter, at least the first half, was vastly different. But I just recently reread Storm of Light and I thankfully realized in time that a conversation between Tyrael and Imperius would not be amicable in the slightest. I have even wanted to tease a character who will appear in the next Act, but eventually, all of that was cut for something that actually made some sense in-universe. All in due time, cupcakes, fear not.
- Music for the scrying scene: if you are interested, Ash and Bone from Ori and the Will of the Wisps inspired me the most during writing that. Give it a listen, hell, give a listen to the entire OST. It is truly a masterpiece!
- The archangels' seniority is never actually established in universe, outside of Malthael being the first angel to ever be born. As such, this order of birth is my addition completely – and will play some interesting part in Act IV… I might even be planning a short comic about that story of Imperius and Itherael ;)
