PaulM, my man! Good to see you, thank you so much for your patience! I wish you and all my readers the very best for 2021!

One of my goals for this year is to get back into free sketching, since I have put far too much focus on finishing "big" detailed pictures and designs yesteryear. One of the intended results of this goal is to hopefully make the fanfic's tumblr blog a bit livelier with sketches and stupid ideas, because we all love those! So if you are interested in those, or in chapter update news, make sure to check it out!


Chapter 57

Tyrael threw himself and rolled aside as fast as he possibly could, while also trying to escape the ropes and rags of the Sea Witch he got tangled into. He summoned El'druin and cut himself free with mad haste, desperately trying to put some distance between him and the horrible undead.

Then he landed in a small bush of yellow flowers.

Tyrael stared at the lush green leaves and the bright petals that seemed to almost cheerfully bloom despite them being trampled in that moment. The mortal angel slowly climbed out of the bush as his mind processed more and more of his surroundings.

He was on a smaller hill of gently waving grass and patches of blooming bushes. Just at a stone's throw, beyond the foot of the hill a thin border of white sand started which soon disappeared into the calm blueness of the Twin Seas. It was a lovely clear day, not a single cloud passed by. Two meters or so away from him lied a blanket cut in half, a small pillow and a miserable pile of twigs. Someone had wanted to set them on fire, but the best they could do was slowly and quietly smolder.

Tyrael somehow struggled to his feet, breaths heavy and sudden as if he was afraid someone would steal the air from him. He fought his overstressed brain to remember and connect the dots. The voyage reluctantly came back, the pleasantly boring hours spent on deck suddenly twisted into a horrible nightmare in a single night. The necromancer demon, the sentient storm, the suddenly resurfacing Drowned, Inarius just going insane with an unexplainable rage… Tyrael could have sworn it was he who had somehow killed the storm monster called Rammanu, but he couldn't quite recall how he even managed that feat. And after that, he… he fell into the ship, maybe? And the Sea Witch found him. And then… what?

There had been a flash of red light. But nothing else came to mind, no matter how hard Tyrael tried.

Quiet was… Where was Quiet?!

The mortal angel looked around frantically, finally spotting a small form sitting on a rock just by the edge of the sea. He rushed down the hill, leaving the pathetic camp and El'druin behind. As he neared the little angel, Tyrael noted with slight alarm the dim and drooped wings and the hunched back. He finally slowed down at the edge of the coast, the gentle shallow waves licking his boots.

- Quiet? – he called out uncertainly.

The little angel twitched at this, and turned to Tyrael. His invisible cheeks were framed by a stream of tears. His clothes were torn, slashed and punctured, they seemed faded and hung from him as if he suddenly lost weight. There was a massive hole in the middle of the chest, in it the faintly glowing skin held a huge, healed but ugly white scar, as if something had stabbed him through there. Only the red gems glimmered with their usual liveliness but that hardly seemed to matter. Quiet stared at Tyrael for a brief but heavy moment, then he silently reached out with his small shaking arms.

Tyrael gently lifted him from the rock, hugging him close. His own clothes, although battered ant torn as well, survived the fight much better. He slowly walked back towards the camp, battling to keep down his worry and think clearly.

- I… I did—no want to hurt them – Quiet hiccupped in tears, not even having the strength to wipe them away. – I s-swear I w-w-wanted to h-help—please don't—shout—

- I won't. I promise – Tyrael gently squeezed one of the small hands as they arrived back to their camp.

- The-the bad storm monster h—hit us very hard and—and it hurt and… and I was so skerred I would d-die, and I w-wanted to see Leendonn. The oth—other me, the really big me was—was even more skerred and he took over and—and…

Quiet had to pause for a minute of wheezing, trying to get some air in next to the constant crying. Tyrael already had a terrible idea of what happened after that. The all-consuming red light seemed to fit, at the very least.

- And then… and then he drew power from everywhere with—without asking and I sh-shouted at him to stop—but he didn't listen, he was too skerred. I—I stopped him from hurting y—you but he-he k-ki—he ki—

Quiet burst out in tears again at this. Tyrael retrieved one half of the thin blanket and gently bundled the little angel up in it.

- A-and th-the bad pale man ra-ran away-y – Quiet sobbed. – And-and we tel-telep-ported, and y-you were sl-sleepi-ng so I mm-made camp and—and-and my head hurts, and they-they are sh-shouting, and I'm so s-sad and-and I have no magic. I di-did no want to h-h-hurt those pe-people, I'm so sorry!

Tyrael sighed in defeat, adjusting his hold on the child. He did not really know what he could say. As much as he wanted to deny it to himself, he had a terrible suspicion that not a single soul would have escaped that ambush at the sea, regardless of Quiet's actions. Even though they had managed to kill most of the Drowned and Rammanu himself, the necromancer demon and the Sea Witch together probably would have been enough to finish the remaining tired and injured crew. Most certainly, Tyrael would have been executed by the bloated sea monster at the very least, and as shameful as it was to think, he… he did not want to die. Was he selfish, unable to say anything to the death of a hundred, while he somehow survived thanks to Quiet? He knew it wasn't logical, but he could not help but think of this ordeal as an exchange – their lives for his. Was that fair? Tyrael had heavy doubts about that.

A painful shout tore apart that dark line of thought, and Quiet practically clawed his way out of the blanket and his hug. The little angel stumbled away from him, clutching his head and weeping in agony.

- Quiet, wha—? – Tyrael shouted but almost fell back from the explosion of sound that followed.

- IT HAD TO BE DONE! I WAS SO CLOSE TO UTTER DESTRUCTION, I HAD TO—

- This was your damn idea, Eye! You insisted on it, now understand it is not your old life!

Quiet… there were no better words for it, he fell apart into three apparitions. One of them had a tiara of pure ruby, his yellow wings were overtaken by red lines within them, his invisible cheeks held red shards in the pattern of a war paint. The other was somewhat taller, his white hair was long and messy, his wings missing the ruby wrists. They were shouting at each other, pushing and pulling and clawing, while between them a third, barely visible silhouette was shivering on the ground, curled up into a small ball.

- This is not how it is supposed to be! I am the Eye of Anu, I am eternal! – the Worldstone shrieked, bright red eyes opened wide and dilated from hysteria. Around his feet the ground waved and twisted as if it couldn't decide if it wanted to turn into liquid or not.

- Yeah, well, welcome to the world of the living, where any random thing can end you in a blink of an eye! This does not give you the right to kill all those people! – Inarius shouted back, slapping the other apparition.

- My—Our survival is paramount! Life force is the strongest healer!

- You could have healed yourself in any other way! Those people did not have to die! You even almost killed Tyrael, if I and Quiet had not intervened!

- What are you two doing?! – Tyrael finally lunged forward and separated them.

He tried to reach out to Quiet on the ground, but his fingers passed through the little one. The next second he was thrown back, his throat trapped in the pincer-like grip of an earth pillar. He almost swallowed his tongue, immediately began clawing at the appendage but he could barely scrape off smaller pebbles.

- LEAVE MY BROTHER ALONE! – Inarius launched himself at the Worldstone, trapping him in a headlock.

- He has no right to talk, the little nothing! – the Worldstone struggled in the hold, trying to kick Inarius in the shins.

- He saved us numerous times! Unhand him, you ungrateful—!

Tyrael managed to summon his mysterious magic at that moment, and he crashed his fists into the pillar, unleashing a double shockwave strong enough to finally crumble it. He was flung back from the power, coughing and wheezing for air, he felt like he just took a long sip from one of the fire rivers of the Hells. In the meantime, Inarius and the Worldstone kept fighting, their arguing slowly melting together into an incoherent screech of chaos. As Tyrael somehow pulled himself back up, blinking the tears out of his eyes. For a brief but horrible moment he could not see the miserable silhouette of Quiet on the ground. After a stab of pure panic, he somehow spotted him, barely visible, but still there.

- ENOUGH! BOTH OF YOU! – Tyrael roared, slamming his fists into the ground and letting loose two more shockwaves.

The earth cracked up around him, and for a brief second the entire hill was illuminated by a sharp blue light that Tyrael could have almost sworn was coming from behind his back, but he had bigger problems to deal with. Inarius and the Worldstone finally stopped fighting and looked at him.

- Inarius, let him go! – Tyrael stood up, marching there, ignoring the sudden pain in his shoulder blades.

- But—!

- NOW!

The long haired apparition finally unhooked his arm from around the Worldstone's neck, mumbling a "sorry" as he drew back, head hung low.

- And you! – Tyrael turned his blazing gaze at the other.

- Do not dare talk to me this way, Third Note of Anu! – the small being spat, massaging his neck.

- I will talk however I goddamn well please to those who lied in my face! – Tyrael stomped.

- Me, lie?!

- You had declared to me that you are no longer the Worldstone or Inarius, but a new life striving for inner balance! Yet here you are, doing your best to just absolutely ruin that balance and erase that new life! Are you two out of your minds?! Do you not see what you are doing?! – Tyrael shouted almost hysterically, gesturing at the shadow of Quiet.

This gave a pause to the other two who spared a worried glance at their third part.

- But—But-but-BUT – the Worldstone stammered, voice once again pitching from panic. – I—It-this is not how it's sup—I cannot b—die, I cannot! I am the Eye of the true Anu!

- You are also a living being now. All living beings can be killed. Understand this – Tyrael retorted, lowering his volume just a bit.

- I just—just wanted-I wanted to have a body! To protect Sanctuary! To finally act on my own! – the Worldstone sobbed, around him the ground was sprouting black-petal flowers. – It's not—It should not—Is-is this what living is?! This constant pain and fear and fighting?!

Tyrael wanted to answer, but Inarius timidly shuffled into the picture from the side, and gently placed a hand on the Worldstone's shaking shoulder.

- Eye… remember that town we had been in, before we crossed the desert? How calm and interesting it had been, the building with the pools, the clothing shop, the small room with the tea? – he asked in his soft calming voice. – And travelling with our old friends through the plains and forests? And spending time with our Guardian?

- Those are distant!

- But they still happened.

- Life is not a constant high, Stone – Tyrael walked back to Quiet who seemed to be just a bit more visible now. – And, with a bit of luck and work, it is also not a constant low, even if it feels like it sometimes. We often have to forge our own way towards a better time, be they however small steps. And we have to remember the good times and hold them close when we are moving through the low points.

- Remember how our Guardian Leendonn always protected us, no matter who attacked him? How he tended our wound and made sure we felt safe at night after that horrible dog demon? How he told us that all life is precious and that we are better than this? – Inarius pressed on as well.

- We are better than this – the Worldstone echoed, lost deep in thought. – A strange meaning…

There was a moment of heavy silence. Tyrael tried to touch the slowly solidifying Quiet, but his fingers have passed through him yet again.

-… I miss our Guardian – the Stone finally admitted in a low voice. – He had made this… "living" seem so easy.

- I miss him as well. We will meet him again! After… after all this – Inarius' voice quickly fell away at the end.

-… Is it really necessary, Inarius? – the Worldstone narrowed his eyes at him.

- Yes – came the soft but firm reply.

- Is it not what the living call "selfish"?

- We would not have been through so many dangers, and those people would not have died on the Meridian either – Tyrael added sternly.

Inarius let his head hang low.

- I know. I know. But please. Let me have this. This one single thing. I must go there.

-… We have to talk about it later, Inarius.

- Yes, we do.

The Worldstone anxiously ran his fingers across his hair.

- This… this is difficult. I did not anticipate any of this.

- I know all about finding yourself in a life you understand nothing about, Eye – Tyrael nodded, his ire completely spent at that point. – You need to be willing to listen and learn.

- I too have to learn to live once again – Inarius sighed. – And we can protect Sanctuary, that is my wish as well. But that will take time, and we have some ways to go until then.

- For now, we should try and find balance again. I… apologize – mumbled the Worldstone, reaching forward with one hand. – These new times are… fearsome and confusing for me.

- I apologize as well, Eye – Inarius mirrored the gesture. – Despite everything, it is good to see you once more, friend.

The two apparitions grabbed each other's forearm, slowly melting together and back into Quiet. The little angel let out a choked gasp before he broke out in an ear-splitting wail and started flailing on the ground. Tyrael quickly scooped him up, trying to shush him.

- It hu—u-u-u-rts! My head hurts! – Quiet cried, clutching his head in agony.

- It is going to go away soon – Tyrael assured him. – You had a…an argument with yourself, so to speak.

It took some time full of nigh-constant shushing and rocking, but Quiet eventually calmed down, and they could make a more proper camp, which… wasn't much, to be fair. Everything they have had with themselves had been blown up by the Worldstone along with the ship. Tyrael felt bad for losing the supplies Sophie and Halie gave them. Sure, be the one of mere two survivors, but don't even bother trying to keep their gifts safe.

He collected a good pile of dry sticks and branches which Quiet could set ablaze this time around, with a bit of trying. He sat on the ground, bundled up in the half blanket, his back against the pillow and a larger rock sticking out of the ground. There was still a good chunk of the day left, but neither of them felt like setting out. Instead, Tyrael busied himself with clumsily fishing with a hastily sharpened staff, and trying to figure out where in the Hells they ended up in Kehjistan. It wasn't the northern edge for sure, above the river Ager. Not even the coast had such lush greenery there, the desert practically ruled it all. Which meant, not far from them to the east started the massive jungle which hid the Cathedral of Light in its depths somewhere.

The question was, how far south were they, exactly? Close to the Ager? To the town of Seram? To the Marshlands? If the night sky stayed clear, he might be able to tell, Tyrael reckoned. There was nothing else left to do but wait until then.

Despite his clumsiness, he did manage to spear a couple of fish, enough for dinner at least. Coming back to camp, he saw Quiet slowly finish "regrowing" the other half of the blanket into full size again. His magic seemed to be connected to his emotions, Tyrael noted halfheartedly, which would have explained the numerous times during the start of their journey when Quiet did not cast spells in dire situations.

- I'm preparing dinner. Are you hungry? – Tyrael offered as he gutted the catch on a flatter stone with a sharp stick.

- I've no—not eaten fish yet – Quiet admitted in a small voice, busy shaping something else out of the ground this time around.

- You can try it once it's done. Might help you regain your strength.

- M'kay.

Glancing up, Tyrael watched as the child was slowly but surely sculpting something human-shaped. By the time he was done cleaning the fish and began frying them over the fire on stakes, Quiet was putting the finishing touches on the now textile puppet that looked suspiciously like Lyndon. It was a bit bulgy in places, the arms and legs were simple stumps, and the eyes were nothing more than bright green dots, but it was definitely the scoundrel with his brown hair and mutton chop beard, almost half as big as Quiet himself.

- Do you miss him? – Tyrael asked, sitting closer to the child.

- Yes – Quiet sniffled, hugging the doll close. – I am so stoopid for coming without him…

- What do you like about him the most? – Tyrael inquired with a small smile.

Quiet looked at him uncertainly, rubbing his eyes.

- He is very kind – he started after a small pause. – Always makes sure I am happy and safe and he is very funny too. He is brave and… clever, and knows a lot of things. And… and he promiss-d that everything is going to be alright. I know he will keep it. I miss him.

- Not every decision we make turns out to be a good one, Quiet – Tyrael leaned back against the rock, looking up at the slowly darkening sky. – But I am glad you and Lyndon are close. Relationships like that are rare but precious.

- Presh-uss?

- Pre-cious. It means it is worth a lot and is very important.

Quiet thought for a moment.

- Is Soffia pre-presh-pressshhousss to you? – he finally asked, turning to Tyrael.

- You mean my relationship with her? Yes, it is. I miss her as well – Tyrael let out a tired sigh.

- What you like about her?

Tyrael let out a small snicker at this. Right back at him, huh?

- Well… she is…very kind just like Lyndon is to you – he began, letting his eyes and thoughts wander around the sky. – Very patient as well, especially when I do not understand something about mortal life. She is well-educated…

- Edukated?

- She knows a lot, just like Lyndon.

- Oh.

- She reads a lot too, loves to learn about new things and places. But she also… has a spark, so to speak: brave in the face of danger, she can think clearly under great pressure.

Tyrael could not help but recall the day when he had been panicking about Inarius returning, while Sophie gently but firmly steered him onto the path of diplomacy, before he could ruin everything with a rushed act. Did he ever properly thank her for that? He will definitely have to do it, if… no, when he gets home.

- And most importantly – he finished with a small chuckle. – She makes sure I don't do anything stupid and is stern when necessary.

- Leendonn can be stern as well when I'm stoopid – Quiet admitted, absentmindedly playing with his doll. – He taught me how to be good.

- Sophie taught me a lot of important things as well. I'm… grateful to have her.

- I'm grateful for Leendonn too!

The two of them fell into a companionable silence as the fish finished roasting. Without any spices they were dry and tasted like a puddle, but they were still a well-needed nourishment, so even Quiet dutifully finished his without a single word.

- Yuck – he stated then, bundling back up into his blanket.

- I too have eaten better before – Tyrael agreed with a small smile, pulling the "regrown" blanket over himself.

- Berries are better.

- Some are, yes.

- Yes, yes, some are poissonouss – Quiet sighed, messing around with doll Lyndon.

- Maybe we should go to sleep early today – Tyrael suggested, eyeing the slowly appearing stars. – We can travel more that way tomorrow.

- Are we close to the grassy place?

- Hopefully, yes. I will try to figure out where we are exactly, but the place should be to the east from us somewhere.

- Good – Quiet mumbled, already snuggling up to Tyrael's side and hugging his doll close. – Can see Leendonn soon then.

Tyrael absentmindedly patted the small head, his eyes kept on the sky. He stayed awake for longer, staring and measuring the stars as best as he could with his hands. He could not be sure entirely, but he reckoned they were closer to the Ager than to the Marshlands, thankfully. Perhaps they could even run into Seram or Partha before the final stretch of the journey. Stocking up for the unforgiving jungles would be advantageous.

Tyrael let out a tired sigh, hoping against all hope that they might be finally on track this time around.

He went to sleep, back still against the rock.

He was not even surprised when he found himself in the Courts of Justice in his dreams. Tyrael hovered above the polished marble floor in his full angelic glory, his waving proud wings filling him with nostalgia but also a bitter longing he wished he could ignore. To his left stood the massive pillar that held the place together, depicting an ever-growing mural of sentencing, exonerations and justice prevailing. It told of a simple world and simpler times, when justice truly had been a straight-forward matter. Now it reminded Tyrael of all the injustices and complicated matters he had seen and could not judge over. His survival out of the entire ship's crew, walking away scotch-free from the Black Soulstone Heist while his teammates were killed or affected terribly by the Stone… Tyrael tore his gaze away from the pillar. The halls were filled with the ever-present melody of the Angelic Host, but the Courts themselves were empty of all, except for him… and his visitor.

- Sleeping well, brother?

Inarius sat on the wall of the jury box, in his full armored golden glory. His yellow wings were no drooped behind the wall, but his entire posture radiated more calmness than anything. His long white locks framed the bottomless darkness, crowned by an intricate golden tiara. Yet his armor seemed dimed. The etchings blurred, some edges flickering from one shape to the next as if unsure what they wanted to be.

- If you do not mind, I have called on your memories, so we can talk easier. As you can see – Inarius gestured at himself.

Tyrael realized the reason why his brother looked so blurred, it was because his own memory was failing about him. Small as the effect was, it still filled him with shame.

- Inarius…

- It is alright, Tyrael – the other angel tiredly waved the attempt away. – I cannot blame you. There are dozens of people in my life I want to forget as well. This is the least I deserve after my… actions.

- There is a lot I have learnt in my mortal life – Tyrael shook his hooded head. – And many of our past actions are now questionable at best. I'm… sorry.

Inarius looked at him for long.

- Mortal, huh? – he said then, playfully. – I did not know that was even a thing. Why did you do it?

- I… I had to protect Sanctuary. And the Council was in my way. This was the one method I could escape the law and hopefully get it through their thick skulls but… the latter had failed something terribly.

- Tyrael, Protector of Sanctuary – Inarius mused to himself, seemingly liking the title. – I am—Honestly, I am glad my brother eventually came around and watched over our work. Never thought I would see the day.

- Life is indeed a path of many strange turns. But Sanctuary is worth saving, afterall. I stand firmly by that idea now.

- And the others?

- Auriel and Itherael are usually fine or at least neutral with it. Imperius is…

- Imperius.

- Exactly – Tyrael let out a small chuckle that quickly died down. – And Malthael is…

- What has happened to him? – Inarius asked in disbelief. – The things I have heard from my Guardian Leendonn, the remaining magic I've felt…

- It had been an ugly matter, indeed – Tyrael somehow forced himself to start and retell the Reaper invasion.

At the end, Inarius looked positively horrified.

- Where is he now? – he chanced this question.

- I honestly do not know, brother. In peace, I hope.

- Tch – Inarius' wings bristled but they quickly drooped back down.

Another heavy pause filled the Courts.

- You wanted to talk to me – Inarius gently reminded him finally.

Tyrael looked over his brother with a heavy heart.

- Why do you want to go the Cathedral of Light so badly? – he asked then. – What is there that is worth all this danger and lives lost? Be straight with me.

Inarius let out a painful chuckle, leaning on his knees and staring at the floor. He laced his fingers together, wrangling them as he collected his thoughts. Tyrael waited a bit warily. He no longer knew how he really felt about his brother. Inarius was still a traitor, but seemed to no longer be the rabid fool with a god-complex.

- It is… a purely personal matter, I admit – Inarius finally began, glancing back up. – It is not for the greater good. There is no cure-all there, or a super weapon or anything of the sorts. But I am not headed for the Cathedral of Light, not at all.

- You—Quiet has described a meadow with a great white building.

- Yes, because back then all I could remember was that temple. But I felt there was something important there, that I needed to see. I—my recollections are coming back slowly. I think I have recovered a good chunk of it by now but it's a slow process. My time spent dead did not do me any favors.

- You were… dead?

- Mentally, yes. My body was still trapped in Mephisto's fort, but my mind was gone. He did not bother with me after a while, I reckon, when I have failed to react to his… work – Inarius said softly, wincing slightly. – There is a massive hole in my memory, a gap where nothing that had happened registered with me. The first thing I have beyond that gap is… that mortal, Leendonn touching my head – he ran his fingers through his hair. – And, and telling me that everything was going to be alright. Those two things—they practically yanked me back into life, so sharp and painful… but I was alive again. And then the Worldstone destroyed my body.

- But kept your core intact.

- Yes, against all odds, I am still here. I am slowly remembering, but that hardly matters in this new… existence. Trust me, I have a hard time wrapping my heard around it.

- That makes two of us.

Inarius snorted at this.

- So why are we going there then? I have believed you would want to return to your former seat of power – Tyrael shook his head.

- You mean to that monument to my insanity and suffering? Anu save me from that – Inarius spat, his ire quickly slipping away though. – No, the Cathedral had been just a decoration there. That spot is far older, and far more meaningful to me. It had been my home.

- Your home? – Tyrael echoed, hovering past the pillar to finally banish it from his sight.

- Before Sanctuary had been woven, I have created a small… hideout, if you will. Something for myself, where I have hoarded memories as the world came into being. I—I want to see it one last time.

-… We have come all this way for nostalgia?! – Tyrael asked harshly, his wings rising and quivering.

-… Yes – Inarius answered in a small voice, head turned to the floor again.

- All those people died—We ruined a cemetery and the entire Eastgate Keep so you can look at some old keepsakes?!

- Yes.

- Anu damn it all the way to the Hells, Inarius! – Tyrael shouted, angrily hovering up and down the Courts. – I thought—I thought you were finally back to your senses! That you are no longer the selfish idiot who just rushes head-first into whatever foolish plan you have concocted on the damned spot! But this?! This is—! I have no words! You haven't changed at all, have you?!

Inarius did not answer, he allowed the barrage of words with a head hung low.

- Was that stalking bastard of a demon right about you all along?! He told me you only acted out of your own self-interest, but I rejected him. By Anu, if he actually said the truth—!

- My son is ruled by his hatred in this matter – came the sudden soft objection.

- Your—your what? – Tyrael paused, froze so suddenly that even his wings stopped moving.

- Our hunter is not a demon, Tyrael. He is my firtsborn, Linarian. But you know him as—

- Rathma. Patron of the Necromancers – Tyrael breathed the words out, stunned to his core.

Rathma. Firstborn of the Nephalem, Follower of the Dragon and Keeper of the Balance. That Rathma had hunted them up to this point. That Rathma wanted them dead.

- He serves the Balance – Tyrael said as dots connected in his head, an icy feeling of dread stabbing into him.

- No, not in this matter. Tyrael—

- He knows you are upsetting the Balance with your actions, he wants to stop you!

- No, no, he's—Brother, please! – Inarius pleaded, standing up, wings dragged on the floor.

- You lied to me! – Tyrael shrieked at him. – You are planning something, aren't you?! That is why you were so focused on killing him on the ship!

- No, I swear I—!

- Necromancers do not act unless something terrible threatens the Balance. You are that threat now! – The archangel pointed an accusing finger at his shivering brother.

- No… no… please – was all Inarius could sputter.

- Out of my head! Get out! Out!

The Courts shattered and washed away, Inarius' form was swept away by a gale. Whatever he had tried to say was drowned out as well.

Tyrael woke with a shout, springing to his feet. Quiet was knocked aside, jostling him awake too.

- Teeri—

- Shut up! – Tyrael spun to him with glowing eyes.

Rage and unbelievable hurt flooded his entire body, his chest burnt, his throat tightened as a crushing realization hit him.

He had been betrayed yet again.

- You lied to me, you—you abomination of Creation! – Tyrael roared, tearing the blanket off of himself with disgust.

- No, Teeriel! – Quiet gasped, scuttling back and bursting out in tears.

- I do not know what you are planning, but I am done giving you chances, Inarius! – El'druin sprung into the mortal angel's hand, its blade gleaming in the moon light.

Quiet screamed, staggering back further, tears flowing from his eyes like streams. He sprawled across the ground then curled up as a final pitiful act of defense, his wings enveloping his body. His terrified wailing rang across the coast as he clutched the doll to his chest with all his might and hid his face into it.

He couldn't do it. Tyrael's arm shook madly, but he couldn't make the strike. El'druin's blue light dimmed, but he just couldn't

With a final roar of hurt and anger, Tyrael turned around and ran.


This… this ending was painful to write.

It… probably sounds super stupid, but it was just such a horrible hit for me, coming out of left field. I swear this is not how I originally planned this chapter! But then, pieces just fell into their place and… and Discovery Writing happened. I cannot offer a clearer explanation, I am sorry.

Let's… see where this painful road now leads us, cupcakes. I hope you will be there with me.

Lore and Trivia Corner

- Survivor's guilt is a mental condition that occurs when a person somehow feels he had done something wrong or undeserving by surviving a traumatic or tragic event that claimed the lives of others. Today it is classified as a symptom and a strong indicator of PTSD. I believe it is high time for Tyrael to finally get a taste of it, especially with how unprepared he still is for human emotions.

- "Hysterical Worldstone" is a relatively new idea in my writing process. I have planned for it to go batshit insane at one point, although originally it would have done so out of rage over constantly being the target of everyone, even former allies. However, as the idea of last chapter's sea battle solidified months ago, I have realized that no way such an ancient and previously indestructible sentient thing would just gloss over the fact that it almost "died", this time for real. No, the Worldstone has much to learn about the world of the living, and there are some harsh lessons it would have never expected.

- the river Ager is my addition, making a comeback from Chapter 4, of all things. For the life of me, I could not find an official name for the river running between Gea Kul and Kurast, a branch-off from the Argentek River going to the south, so I gave it a name. "Ager" simply means "estate, field" or "border (of a settlement)" in Latin. Of course this could be a situation similar to the Tamoe Mountains, so if you do know the name of the river, feel free to tell me!

- Seram, back in Chapter 2 & 3 had been along the Ager, back when I had no idea just how big this fanfic would grow and how deep I would dig myself into the lore of Diablo. However, in the 3 years since then, especially in preparation for this Act, I have gone back to the Sin War trilogy to map out the events, and hopefully the location of the Cathedral of Light. The Diablo 2 world map is inaccurate, especially since back then the Sin War had been a very different historical event. I think I am going to reupload it to my blog at a later date (it's a long damn story), you will be able to check it out there!

- Theme for the chapter: Transformers OST – Bumblebee Captured

youtube-.-com-(slash)-watch?v=tbwn5oDbT58