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Chapter 63
- Come oooon, hurry!
Tyrael almost tripped over a root while he tried to duck under some leaves. Quiet of course had no great trouble navigating this natural maze of massive trunks, roots, branches, rotting leaves and fruits, as well as some thin but tough bushes and sudden, random pitfalls. He fit under most of the obstacles to begin with, and he was very adamant about yanking the mortal angel along by his hand. Tyrael could not really find the time to protest next to trying to keep his footing on the treacherous terrain. Wingies hissed above them as she majestically coiled from one massive tree to the next, not bothering to stay on the ground.
Tyrael wished he could share Quiet's enthusiasm. The child had just yesterday blown up an entire city and buried it (and hopefully the remnants of Mephisto's cult) under lava, but he seemed quite well compared to the circumstances. Perhaps Inarius' anticipation had an effect on the child, or maybe the liveliness of the jungles themselves perked him up this much. Whatever the reason, keeping up with the noteling was almost as difficult as it had been back in the Lut Bahada bazaar. The jungle was not meant for walking, Tyrael noted sourly as he had to hop from one ox-sized root to the next. At least animals left them well alone, there was no need to fear venomous snakes, bugs or whatever else hiding in the thick layer of leaves under their feet.
- Quiet—Quiet ,wait up! – Tyrael called out as he crawled under a trunk too massive to vault over.
- You are so slow, Teeriel!
- I am bigger than you, it is not that easy for me.
The little angel stopped with a sigh some meters away. He was balancing on a pointy rock right next to what looked like a bottomless chasm in the greatly filtered light.
- Quiet, get off from there, please – Tyrael huffed as he straightened up, too tired to properly get anxious at the sight.
- I won't fall!
- Just get down here.
- Fine, fiiine – the child puffed up his cheeks but finally complied.
He hoped off and they skirted around the pit, Tyrael holding the child's hand firmly, even though it was his footing that was more unsure. They followed the rustling bushes and leaves through which the Umbaru gods were guiding them. The mortal angel should have gotten frustrated at this impossible obstacle course, the mortal angel mused, but he just took each new challenge as they came, feeling little for anything. Could mortals feel exhausted in their emotions? Was that even a thing?
Tyrael figured it was indeed a thing.
The light was gentle and dim down here due to the massive foliage that could hide entire villages in its thickness, but thankfully it was still easy to see.
- Look! Funny furry animal! – Quiet laughed as he pointed at a random branch above their heads.
A sloth was hanging from there, too slow to scurry out of their path in time. Too slow to move a single arm forward while Quiet said his piece, it looked like. It lazily turned his head around to get a better look at them, waving at them in slow motion. Was he greeting them, or just thinking they were fruit he could reach somehow, Tyrael couldn't tell. It didn't look the brightest of animals.
- Wow, he is sllooow – Quiet gawked up at their spectator. – Slower than you, Teeriel!
- Very funny – Tyrael waved the comment away quickly. – That is a sloth. I have read some things about them. They are one of the slowest animals on Sanctuary, they eat fruit and they are harmless.
- He has big claws, though…
- Yes, he is climbing with those. See?
The sloth finally took two heroic steps forward while hanging upside down by that time. Above it, Wingies looked like she briefly contemplated ending the sloth's journey altogether, but she deemed it unworthy in the end and just slithered on.
- Ah yes. Sloths. I remember them – Inarius suddenly spoke up, coming to the front. – They were the idea of a demon from Azmodan's ilk, Lozuk. Slowest, calmest being in Creation. I have no idea how he found enough energy to follow the rest of us to Sanctuary in the first place. Sloths were supposed to be a joke project, I am… honestly surprised they seem to be doing just fine.
- A bit difficult to foretell these things, yes? – Tyrael glanced down at him.
- Like with most things in life.
Inarius quickly retreated after that, and Quiet spent a good couple of minutes angrily arguing with himself about being rude and pushing others aside without warning and being mean and "stoopid". Tyrael found the whole debacle strange but also almost a tad bit funny. Clearly his brother could barely contain himself, now that they were so close to the goal.
At least, he thought they were close as he glanced up at the natural green rug high above their heads. It was a bit hard to tell time down here. Still, their best chance to find some three thousand years old and completely leveled ruins in the jungle was through the gods. They were eagerly guiding them through the thickness, the mortal angel could only silently hope their enthusiasm did not lead them off the right path. He honestly had no idea what kind of towns, if any could be found in this wilderness, let alone where they could be found, should they get lost.
They forged forward for a good while, until Wingies let out a loud hiss. Tyrael could see light trickle in through the trunks and bushes in the distance. Was there a small clearing ahead? Another river cutting some space into this maze? As they got closer the light was getting brighter as if an entire ocean of it was awaiting them.
- It's here! Teeriel, it's here! – Quiet shouted and tried to run ahead but Tyrael grabbed his hand and held him back.
- Stay next to me – he ordered.
- But—!
- Just stay next to me – Tyrael glanced down at him.
The little angel only mumbled something under his nose but did not fight him. Wingies let out another loud hiss, lowering herself to the ground before the pair. Tyrael thought she offered her back to them for a ride, but Quiet merely nodded:
- Okay, I understand.
- What did she say? – Tyrael looked at him.
- She says she feels like she should go. Has to find new nest and stuff.
The giant feathered snake loomed over them, carefully brushing her smooth nose against their heads. Tyrael reached up and petted the warm scales:
- May you find your place in the world, creature!
- Happy nest-building! Thank you for all the help! – Quiet petted Wingies with both hands. – Be nice!
The feathered snake spiraled her way up on one of the giant trees, before unfurling her numerous wings. She launched herself at the green carpet above, breaking through and into the endless sky above where the world was hers to discover. Branches and leaves fell from her exit, all manners of monkeys and birds cried out in alarm and fled. Tyrael looked at the new opening for a second, imagining a future where the offsprings of that majestic beasts would populate the skies. He then held Quiet's hand again.
Together they continued to stumble towards the pool of light until it blinded them.
The breeze damn near smacked him in the face with its sudden appearance. Tyrael's eyes needed a minute to finally adjust. The light wasn't unnatural here in the slightest, it turned out. There was just simply nothing in the way of it.
A titanic, perfectly circular meadow greeted them. They were standing on a meter-wide stretch of strangely barren ground between the jungle and the grass, as if the place had to carve its spot out… which it probably did in some way. Beyond that border there was nothing else but gently waving elegant blades of grass. Not a single tree or bush could be seen anywhere, although the other side of the meadow was lost beyond the horizon. The sight was breath-takingly serene… yet there was an air of unnatural strangeness about it. Perhaps a bit of wrong, too. There were no animal sounds. The jungle was echoing with all manners of calls and fights behind their backs, but the meadow was silent safe for the breeze.
Tyrael pulled Quiet closer to himself. He had thought… no, he had wished the place had been swallowed up by the jungle since that fateful day, he realized. Or that it had been flooded by the ocean. Perhaps sprung a mountain or a volcano right on top of it, even. But no. Of course the former home of Inarius would be just as stubborn as its owner. It looked exactly the same damn way it had ages ago when the armies of angels, demons and the Edyrem clashed briefly but horribly.
Where Uldyssian ul-Diomed changed the flow of history… and Tyrael forever.
- The grassy place… – Quiet breathed in complete awe.
- Land of the First Day – whispered the Umbaru spirits behind them. – Sacred home of the Shaper. We cannot follow…
- Thank you for your help – Quiet called over his shoulder, but his large eyes were kept on the sea of grass.
Tyrael wanted to turn around and leave, stumble blindly through the entirety of the jungle if he had to, but Quiet slipped out of his hand and the child quickly crossed the barren border. A ringing wave ran across the land at his first steps. The grass rustled and small shining flowers in a thousand colors sprouted all over. Shimmering bugs emerged from the green and began their elaborate dances among the buds. Spirit-like waders wandered out of thin air with their regal steps, they drew closer but maintained a respectful distance from the visitors. A herd of deer- or antelope-like spirits skipped in the distance but their form quickly melted into the breeze. Ethereal insect buzzing, birdsongs and other such sounds finally filled the air. The strange and wrong aura melted away.
The former stage of megalomania, death and a damn-near world-ending war was overrun with life as it greeted its one rightful owner. And its owner greeted it back in kind, with wide open arms and wings:
- I am home!
oooOOOooo
His heart soared higher with each step, his harmony gained volume and pitch as Inarius crossed the meadow. It was all here, all the Echoes, all the magic, all the memories, it was all here safe and sound. This time Quiet agreed to step aside, the child easily understood his enthusiasm about the place.
Inarius had dreaded the journey up to this point, he was so afraid to find Solum destroyed, faded, or worse, corrupted. Now that he saw it in its full glory, he felt himself light and truly, truly happy. He forgot about Rathma, about Lilith, about all the hardships and terror. His greatest achievement, Sanctuary, and his very home, Solum had both survived.
There was nothing more he could ever ask for in his life. It was all here.
Inarius looked over his shoulder as he had to actively remind himself that he was not alone here. Tyrael was wandering across the grassland, marveling at the magic around them. He seemed tired, worn out and ragged, Inarius noticed worryingly, but there was a hint of true wonder and awe that radiated from his movements and his eyes.
- Brother… are you well? Do you wish to rest? – Inarius rushed back to him.
As much as he was overcome by sheer joy, he could not allow to lose track of the need of others, he chided himself silently.
- I am fine – the big man shook his head unconvincingly, then turned to Inarius. – But this is not how I remembered this place. It had not been this… welcoming.
Inarius nodded solemnly. He could only imagine what kind of emotional connection his brother had to this place, but he knew it was vastly different from his. To Inarius, Solum was home, in the truest, purest, warmest sense of the word. To Tyrael… a battlefield, perhaps. One giant deadly trap disguised as mere grass.
A monument to Inarius' madness.
- Solum has a… history – the angel looked around, his joy slightly colored by tranquil sadness now.
He gently took his brother's large and chiseled hand and began leading him at a much slower pace towards their destination.
- It was the first Nexus point where we began to create Sanctuary – Inarius started. – An anchor point, or a—or a foundation, if you will. The first resting place of the Eye as well, before I moved it to Mount Arreat. It was our home base as the world took shape around us. For the longest time it was the only solid patch of ground under our feet, and sky above our heads.
Some Echoes in the shape of waders walked past them, their harmonies soft but noticeable.
- They sound like angels – Tyrael noted absentmindedly as he followed the spirits with his eyes.
The fragility his voice carried did not escape Inarius' attention. There was also a greyness in it, as if Tyrael was slowly reverting into the near-emotionless moving statue he had once been.
- Most of these creatures you see are Echoes – he tried to mask his worry with an explanation. – It was one of our angels' idea, actually. She suggested that we should all keep a memory of ourselves here – as moving pictures almost. So all those who wanted poured a small bit of their being and their memories into these shapes. Mostly angels did it, but there are a good number of demon Echoes too.
In his mind, Inarius was calling each and every Echo he saw by name. Lumiel, Andruziel, Gorku, Padrocus, Illeiael, Zieta, Morgus, Janiel, Urimiel—
I miss all of you so so much.
- She was concerned by her rebirth – Tyrael guessed.
- Yes. Angelic rebirth is unfair, she believed. You were erased, but your body went on like a shell to get filled by someone else, she said. She wanted to preserve some small aspect of herself and of the others – Inarius nodded, waving at an antelope-like Echo. – There she is, in fact. Mediael, Banner angel of Hope.
- Banners are never ones to give up. I am not surprised – Tyrael nodded with slight mirth. – But these Echoes. They are not sentient, are they?
- Not truly, no. They are safekeepers of memories and aspects of one's personalities, but they are not alive. They know how to keep going, that is about it.
- And back then, why had this place been so…?
- Deceiving? Horrible? Deadly?
- I wanted to say empty, but yes. Those as well.
Inarius frowned, staring at the ground as they walked.
- I had corrupted Solum unconsciously. With my grief, with my loneliness… with my madness. The Echoes fled, as they should have, and I turned this place into a death trap to stop the Edyrem, I remember. I am so, so grateful it shook off my chains. That I could not damage it in the end. I cannot believe I erected a cathedral here, what was I thinking?!
Tyrael gently squeezed his hand, knocking him out of his rising self-blame. Inarius glanced up at his brother with gratitude. Those days were long gone, there was no point in dwelling on them any longer. Inarius was given a new chance at life as a new being. There was no greater gift than that.
After a while, they reached what appeared to be the very center of the meadow. Here the endless plain was finally broken – seemingly random small mounds dotted the place, most of them too overgrown to be recognizable. Occasionally, however, artificially cut and chiseled block of stone would peek out from the green. Long pieces of pillars rested on the ground like petrified snakes. The only part truly standing was the main archway that had once been the entrance of the Cathedral. The wooden doors were long gone and the gate stood between the endless grassland and a horrible fissure in the ground, where Inarius had finally been struck down in the end. The crack looked like a badly healed wound that ran across the full length of the ruined site and beyond. Although not too deep, it was still jagged and black like charcoal, its ridges glistening like obsidian almost. The grass could not overtake this one memento, it was just as stubborn as Solum itself.
- Oh dear – Inarius let out a tired sigh at the sight.
- Do you remember it? – Tyrael followed the fissure with his eyes.
- Pictures… flashes, more like – Inarius mumbled. – Everything is hazy once the fight broke out. I think I remember all of you standing above me but… not much else.
He shook himself, shooing the bad memories away. He was home finally, and he would not allow them to sour his return.
- I am surprised this remained – he gestured at the ugly fissure. – Solum is exceptional at healing itself.
- Uldyssian's powers prove to be too much for it, it seems.
- Yes, Uld— – Inarius tried to say, but a sharp fear stabbed into him. – … Oh no.
- Wha—? – Tyrael tried to say, but Inarius began dragging him towards the gate.
- Did he damage the place?! He didn't, right? RIGHT?! – Inarius demanded almost hysterically. – It still works, it has to work!
- Inarius-wait!
- There is no time, brother! I must see!
As they neared the broken gate from the fissure's side, the view through the opening changed. Instead of the sea of grass, there was now a well-polished stone platform resting just beyond the gate. A wide and regal staircase started at its end, leading deep into the ground. Inarius practically flew through the gate and down the steps, leaving his brother behind.
Did Weaver make it?! Did the Chamber?!
oooOOOooo
Inarius slipped out of his hand yet again, and Tyrael had to run after his brother whose sudden panic clashed against the serenity of Solum. Seeing the fissure born out of the pure primordial chaos of a battle that not even Imperius or Malthael could fully follow, and Inarius' sudden fear had almost knocked Tyrael out of his stupor.
Almost. Which was a bad sign, he realized. Still he wanted to make sure his brother was alright so he ran after him, taking a few steps on the suddenly appeared stairs. That is, until a breeze against the back of his neck stopped him. Inarius quickly disappeared into the darkness below, the light of his wings swallowed up nigh-instantly by it. Tyrael looked after him for a second, then slowly turned around and climbed the stairs back up.
The light breeze waved the grass and the edges of the heavy leather robes.
Tyrael was tired. He was mentally, physically, emotionally exhausted of it all. Upon seeing their stalker on the other side of the gate, the one shadow that had relentlessly pursued them across all of Sanctuary, who was supposed to be righteous and unbiased… Tyrael could not muster the energy to feel anything really. So he just stopped on the stone platform and seized their opponent up without rush. The being looked exactly like what everyday people believed necromancer looked like, Tyrael noted to himself – a twisted, fearsome, barely human-looking defiler of corpses clad in leather and metal and unknown symbols.
- Linarian – he finally stated simply.
- That is not my name – came the hiss.
- Your other name means "keeper of the Balance". You have lost the right to that name by now. I am sure Trag'Oul would agree – Tyrael shrugged.
- You know nothing about my work or the Great Dragon – Rathma clutched his apparently newly made dagger so hard the handle almost snapped. The golden band on his forehead glimmered in the sun.
- You act in your own interest, you have tried to murder a child and you have ignored the greater threat of the Nephalem Johanna, all just to have revenge.
- Who are you to pass judgement, you—!
- The Archangel of Justice himself.
- Justice? Justice?! You have murdered your own friend in a fit of blind rage, you fool!
Tyrael closed his eyes and shuddered at the memory. Grief and shame seeped through his exhaustion.
Forgive me, Eirena, he prayed silently.
- I have – he finally nodded. – And I see most clearly that you wish to commit the very same sin, to a child no less.
Linarian grimaced, his unnaturally sharp teeth flashing up from under his pale lips. If he were to attack now, there was nothing Tyrael could do. He couldn't feel his connection to El'druin in his heart, he didn't know if he could still summon the sword or not. None of these thoughts really flooded him with worry, however.
The dagger disappeared from Linarian's right hand. His wrist was still stabbed through on that arm, his left hand was still missing his little finger, although his left eye healed fully by now. It appeared he had trouble mending the wounds given by the Undertaker dagger. The Nephalem looked around the meadow, his snow white features alien and unreadable.
- I hate this place – he said.
- Because of Inarius – Tyrael followed his gaze.
- Because of everything – Linarian turned those empty black glass orbs to the stairs. – But that one is… new.
- Why are you here? – Tyrael asked tiredly. – Are you willing to tear through even the very first patch of Sanctuary to kill him?
- And if I am?
- You would not be standing there now. Neither would I, here, for that matter.
Linarian scoffed again but had no answer to that. He did not plan to attack Quiet, that much Tyrael knew. As for his real motivations… maybe the Nephalem was not aware of them, either.
- He is still vulnerable in this state. He can be stopped – Linarian tried to argue, but there was no conviction behind his words whatsoever.
- Stopped from growing up? Having a life of his own?
- Do you truly believe he will not turn into the same megalomaniac he had been? Or get corrupted in any other manner? – an actual question rather than an accusation.
Tyrael thought for a moment, idly tapping his foot on the stone platform. Remnants of Mephisto's aura still whispered into his ear about the rotten state of the world, that nothing is sacred or good here. But he had a somewhat easier time to prove it wrong.
- I cannot say – he finally concluded. – Life is not a predictable gift. But by this logic, why allow a single human to live when there is a chance they can be corrupted? Why allow angels to exist? Why allow you to live for as long as you have? You have been doing a rather good job until you let your vengeance get the better of you.
- You have no idea what he has done to us and our children! – hissed Linarian, his ire climbing again.
- Like I've said. Vengeance – Tyrael merely nodded, completely unfazed. – The being you hunt is not Inarius. His name is Quiet, he is a child.
- He has sounded quite like Inarius to me just now.
Tyrael looked back at the darkness the stairs disappeared into. He didn't dare to dwell upon this notion before. Would Inarius and the Worldstone fully merge into Quiet eventually? Would they remain independent, forever a subject to inner arguments and the risk of falling apart and ceasing to exist? When Quiet had damn near disappeared on the coast, that had been a terrifying sight. But to lose his brother the other way…
You had not cared for him for eons. Don't act like you had, a small voice berated him inside.
- Perhaps he will not be there for long – he chose to say in the end. – His situation is… unique in Creation, there is no telling what will happen down the line.
- A lot of assumptions.
- Yes. Life tends to be full of them. Your own quest had started from an assumption, had it not?
- I had a damn good reason. You took his side on a whim! What if he was the same monster he had been?!
- I had not taken his side on a whim. I had my reservations, my suspicions, until they were proven wrong by many sources – Tyrael shook his head. – Had he remained the same, I would not have made it far with him. He would have killed me long before we ever returned to Westmarch from Corvus, I reckon. Nor would he had posed as Lyndon's protégé for weeks before that.
He paused for a second, arranging his thoughts.
- Quiet is a child with a good heart, if a long road ahead of him. That much, I am certain of – he finally stated, more assure of it than anything else in his life in that moment.
- Perhaps you underestimate Inarius' ability to pretend. He had run an entire religion as a sanctimonious child for years – Linarian grimaced.
- True. And perhaps you underestimate your own desire to see him as evil, no matter what.
He really should have stopped pushing his luck with an ancient all-powerful corpse-charming Nephalem, Tyrael wondered briefly. Even if Linarian wasn't here to kill Inarius at all cost, certainly there had to be a limit to the demigod's patience. If there was one trait all Nephalem shared, it was most definitely pride.
Then again, someone had to tell Linarian that he was being a stubborn asshole here.
The Nephalem's fingers twitched, as if deciding if they should reach for their dagger. Tyarel figured he had a good chance of being riddled with bone spikes in the next four seconds or so. But then Linarian (clearly forcefully) opened his hands again and let them relax.
- You need help, fallen one – he offered then.
- What I need is to show honesty to the most important person in my life. And then… we will see – Tyrael waved the comment away.
- You may not be at the height of your glory, but Sanctuary cannot lose what few allies it has. Seek help and find your way back to the light – Linarian insisted, sounding legitimately worried.
- You believe there is a cure for this exhaustion? – Tyrael tilted his head a bit.
- The sicknesses of the heart and mind are like most other ailments. There is a way to combat them, with well-trained help and willpower. Seek out those who are well-versed in this healing. Your own sister, perhaps.
- Auriel knows little about human failings, despite her heart of gold.
- But she can help her own kind with their illnesses, can she not? So do some humans in this world.
- I will… think about it – Tyrael nodded solemnly, turning around.
- Justice cannot fall, Tyrael.
It sure can, the mortal angel thought bitterly as he trotted down the stairs. There was wisdom in Linarian's words, he knew… but he was too tired to ponder on them more. Perhaps a bit later.
Tyrael was swallowed up by the darkness below.
oooOOOooo
It felt like diving deep underwater. Tyrael's ears popped a little from the change in pressure. A soft muffled murmuring surrounded him as he descended blindly, not too loud but always there. He hated how it reminded him of the Sea Witch's aura back on the Meridian. What if he was going the wrong way? Maybe this place only reacted to Inarius, and now that Tyrael, a stranger was in here, it would leave him astray and trap him in this—
- Tyrael! Brother!
Inarius' voice cut across the darkness like a knife and Tyrael almost missed his next step. The small form of his brother suddenly emerged just a few steps ahead of him, reaching towards him. The light from his wings shone brightly but was quickly swallowed by the haze around them.
- Where were you? What has happened? – the angel demanded, grabbing Tyrael's hand.
- I… had a last minute encounter with someone – the mortal angel defended himself as he was being led down the stair.
- Linarian again?! – Inarius whipped his head around with very real and bright anger. – What did he try to do?! I swear if he raised a hand against you—!
- None of that happened, and he will not bother us again, fear not. He seemed… a bit lost, I should say.
Inarius held his gaze for a second before turning forward and murmuring something under his breath as he kept walking.
- What is this place? – Tyrael asked instead, trying to see beyond the next three marble steps.
- We are still in Solum. The roots of it, so to speak. There are some… I cannot express just how important things down here. To me, but moreso to Sanctuary – Inarius let out a relieved-sounding sigh. – I am… beyond grateful that Uldyssian's strike did not reach it.
- What important things? – Tyrael thought he could see a soft shimmering in the distance, but he could not be sure.
Not even his illusion-piercing vision could help him here.
- Easier to show you than to tell you – Inarius waved the question away.
Tyrael's foot finally hit a big platform. He thought he could see a gate or an opening towering over them. As they moved forward the darkness was suddenly torn away from their eyes, leaving Tyrael to blink rapidly and wipe his tears away from the sudden assault of light. He looked up, his breath caught in his throat.
They arrived to a massive chamber where the walls were seemingly made out of pure darkness – they reflected none of the light, if they had any ridges or edges, those were literally impossible to see. But that hardly mattered compared to the occupant of the room. A massive glowing tree the size of a three-storey house towered over Tyrael and Inarius. Its branches weaved and curled against the black walls in mesmerizing and unnatural patterns, the entire ceiling was overtaken by them. Giant bunches of flowers and leaves hung from them like a royal canopy. Its roots mirrored the very same pattern on the floor, they stuck a bit out of the floor, but some parts accumulated and rose from the plain like miniature mountain ranges. The trunk was surrounded by four magical rings of runes at various angles, they turned at different speeds and the occasional loud click. The entire tree shifted among four main palettes – fresh green and blue, bright sun yellow and gold, sharp red and brown, and gentle grey and white. The flower bunches held buds in the green area, were in full bloom in the yellow, slowly wilting in the red and withering away in the grey. They were standing under a yellow batch and Tyrael could practically feel the rays of the sun and the warm summer breeze on his skin. The entire chamber hummed with the power of the tree.
- This… – Tyrael tried to say but couldn't find the words as he stared up in awe.
- I would like to introduce you to Weaver. Well… Old Weaver now, I suppose – Inarius stood before him, his harmony singing with pride and joy. – The single largest spell complex in all of Creation, courtesy of our very best spell casters in the family. It alone controls the flow of months and seasons upon Sanctuary. The changes in weather, the days strong and weak in magic, all of it is because of Old Weaver.
- It is time itself – Tyrael murmured.
He realized that beyond the flower canopy, the branches did not just follow a random pattern – they depicted a girdled map of Sanctuary itself, their colors matching the current seasons of the regions they formed. Westmarch and Khanduras were both yellow, slowly turning to red, indicating the approach of autumn. In accordance, the roots on the floor also showed the map, the strangely bumpy bunches of it were indeed the mountain ranges and hills of the world.
- Well, not entirely. It works alongside the cosmic flow of time – Inarius followed his gaze. – But Sanctuary's multifaceted nature required far more than a simple day and night cycle, like in the High Heavens or in the Burning Hells. With the help of the Eye, we eventually created and perfected the system that would provide the necessary cyclical change. Without it, life would not be the same or as colorful as it is today.
One of the rune rings turned with a click in the background, as if Old Weaver wished to agree with the statement.
- It's beautiful – Tyrael breathed, unable to tear his gaze away.
And it truly was beautiful. Surrounded by pitch black nothing, Old Weaver glowed and glittered in color and light, perhaps it would have even eclipsed the wonders of the Gardens of Hope. The flower bunches waved gently, their slow but constant change was almost hypnotical. Each petal held a small but vital fraction of the spell within itself, working in tandem with the million other fractions. Tyrael's sheer awe shone through the exhaustion in his soul, he could feel something, even if only for a short while.
That had to be a reason to hope. Maybe Linarian's words did hold some merit.
- You can stay here if you want, brother – Inarius let go of his hand. – I must check on the other chamber.
- There is another? – Tyrael finally turned his head towards the small angel.
- Yes… the other very important thing down here. For me at least – Inarius sighed as he started to circle around the large trunk of Old Weaver.
Tyrael realized there was an actual doorway hidden behind the spell complex. The only reason it was even visible in the first place, was because some of the tree's roots grew up the wall and around the opening, giving it a glowing gilded frame. Tyrael spared one last glance at the majesty of Old Weaver before following his brother.
The doorway thankfully did not lead to another impossibly long dark and suffocating corridor or staircase, it immediately gave way to a large and this time well-lit circular chamber. Cupboards, desks and pedestals, made of some kind of wood with an unearthly glint, filled the room and created a natural maze among them. A numberless collection of trinkets, tools, stacks of papers, scrolls, books, small works of art, weapons and trophies weighed every furniture down. There was clear organization to their setup, but their sheer amount was just overwhelming. The light seemingly came from an unseen source just under the green stone-covered vaulted ceiling, which resembled those of the High Heavens in form. However, the main ornament this time were the walls. The entire surface was covered in an intricate and colorful pebble mosaic and Tyrael needed a moment to realize what he was seeing due to the sheer size of it all.
It was one giant group picture of all the Renegades who followed Inarius and Lilith here to Sanctuary.
Angels from all virtues and demons of all the Pits stood shoulder to shoulder, embracing each other, leaning on each other with full trust, a sight unimaginable in the Eternal Conflict. Each figure had a small scroll before and around them, with their name written with both angelic and demonic runes. From the smallest little imp who grinned widely and mischievously in the first row of the group, to Adenah and Izba somewhere in the middle among angels, and finally Ashava towering in the back in all of her boney and mysterious glory, everyone was indeed there. Inarius and Lilith stood next to each other in the crowd, holding hands and brimming with pride at their group. Tyrael's heart sank as he recognized some angels in the group – a few plucky and young Justice angels who were driven by their sense of righteousness and adventure. Three small lightlings in particular, he remembered – Remeael, Imael and Ghelael. They were quite the handful to keep under control, and they were clearly favoring Inarius' bold and obvious style instead of Tyrael's calm and calculated rule. They landed in trouble quite often but thankfully Tyrael had never had to send them to the Fist. When they disappeared, they were presumed dead in the Eternal Conflict. Tyrael had suspected that was not what had happened, but he'd had no proof or leads to start on. He now looked at all the angels in this chamber, imagining each of them on the road of a promised land of peace, risking everything for an unknowable future – and all the while being downgraded to a footnote on a list of casualties in a neverending war.
Tyrael walked up to a cupboard. The trinkets turned out to be tools, enchanted amulets and carved figurines the angels and demons had created during their slow settling. There were sketches of charcoal, depicting surprisingly simple and humble homes and huts. Letters asking Inarius if it was a good idea to build on sand or in the mountains. The tools looked primitive but they quickly evolved as the settlers figured them out. Had they not used much magic in those days? Tyrael pondered as he ran his fingers over an oversized stone mallet. Perhaps they were afraid if they did, the Heavens and Hells would detect them right away? Or maybe there was very little magic as it was soaked up by Sanctuary's creation and they opted to save it for later? It could not have been easy, finding a footing in a world that was actively changing and growing around them.
Tyrael found a large stack of papers, describing or showing ideas for the flora and fauna. It was actually funny how easy it was to tell angelic and demonic works apart – the former worked with long, flowing and majestic lines that sometimes were a tad bit too grandiose (especially if it depicted a toad or something), the latter was more to the point but also incredibly rough in places. One was an angrily scribbled ball of spikes that Tyrael guessed would later become the hedgehog… or maybe some kind of spiky round fish? He actually found the letter talking about the sloth. Its creator, Lozuk seemed to have fallen asleep while writing it, because the demonic runes got longer and longer by the end, and it all culminated into one long line, some smudges (drooling from sleep?) and a big ink blob. Clearly a man of few words, the message simply read: "S-L-O-T-H. Looks like me, but smaller and furrier".
Tyrael actually snorted with slight humor as he pictured the scene.
Another letter from clearly a Valor angel was very angrily worded and told Inarius to "get a hold of Zomkut and tell him to get that Anu-forsaken part of Weaver right finally, because it was sunny once again while ball-sized hail fell from the sky, and they hit damn hard, don't you know!"
Weeks could have been spent just picturing all the small everyday scenes of the Renegades' lives. But a sound finally reached Tyrael's ears, knocking him out of the trip down memory lane. He rounded the corner and returned to the center of the chamber. There, on a more robust desk, Inarius sat and stared up at the mosaic, his invisible cheeks visible by the flow of his tears. He softly keened and sobbed, wrangling his hands, his wings drooped and almost flattened against the table's surface. Tyrael silently walked up there and sat down on the bench next to him. He did not know what he could say, Inarius' grief was far too sharp and clear from his voice. All those figures up on the walls, who were only know becoming actual people for Tyrael, had meant so much more for his brother. The mortal angel could not even begin to imagine just how much he did not know about these folks.
- I thought I—could keep it together – Inarius stammered softly, not even trying to fight his feelings. – I haven't been here—I couldn't come down here after Lilith's betrayal. I was so-so afraid. So afraid that I would-would just lose my mind to grief right there and then. And yet it still happened – he finished with a disgusted snort.
- Nobody can fault you for that. Isolation is the greatest hardship – Tyrael nudged him gently.
- Seeing them again—Amaniel, Ashava, Adenah, Izba… It gives me hope, you know. I don't even know what that hope is for… but it's there – Inarius sobbed.
- The demonesses had certainly surprised me in a good way. I am glad I could meet them – Tyrael nodded. – But what is Amaniel like?
- A shame you didn't see her in your sleep – Inarius pointed up at the mosaic.
There stood an angel of Hope clad in grey robes, yellow hood and white wings, embracing a smaller reptilian-looking stubby demon with a goofy grin, baggy robes and far too large twisting horns for his head. "Dahlgur Tuon", his scroll read.
Dahlgur… Tyrael felt like he should really know that name, but in that moment his tired mind came up empty.
- Amaniel and Tuon were our head gardeners, you could say – Inarius flapped his wings at the pair. – They loved plants. They lived for them. I am not s-sure how a demon could make any-anything grow in the Burning Hells, but Tuon was unstoppable up here with his creativity. Together they had single-handedly planted this entire jungle. They were among the first couples, ab-absolutely crazy for each other. I am not surprised that Amaniel still clings to Sanctuary – she truly loved this place with all her harmony. I-I feel sorry for her staying alone.
Tyrael recalled the small grotto hidden among the rocks. How safe and fresh it felt, how nice it was in its simplicity. Guess now he knew whom to thank in part for all the beautiful places on Sanctuary.
- You truly brought the best out in people – he glanced back down to Inarius.
- I merely came up with an idea so beyond insane it might have just worked – his brother snorted at this.
- Ashava told me how much you had believed in your vision from the start. That listening to you explaining your ideas felt like they were already a reality. You took an unthinkable image of a peaceful home and you made it sound like it could be done for all these people. You gave them a drive and hope not even Auriel would have been capable of. No wonder Sanctuary turned out the way it did – Tyrael scanned the faces in the group picture, turning around his torso. – A true labor of love.
- I led them to their deaths.
- Lilith led them to their deaths.
Inarius shuddered.
- I trusted her – he whispered, rage entering his quivering voice.
- I am sorry, brother – Tyrael gently squeezed his hand.
Inarius closed his eyes and took a labored breath.
- And now Sanctuary is a place of strife and danger – he admitted in utter defeat.
- Yet you forget the places of peace and beauty we have been to. Where there is life, there is conflict, that is true. The world will never be fair, and we will always stumble along. But there is so much still to fight for.
So much beauty to experience with other people, a small part of him reminded Tyrael. All the places he wanted to bring Sophie to. All the places he wanted to go back to truly look at what he had missed in his tunnel-visioned focus on duty.
- I cannot even tell if Sanctuary will remain standing at all – Inarius admitted, hunched and hopeless.
- I believe a wise man once said: "That is solely up to us" – Tyrael gently nudged him.
Inarius looked up at him with slight surprise.
- Or he might have been an angel. The detail escapes me – Tyrael shrugged nonchalantly.
A slight string of happy notes came from his brother's harmony. Inarius elbowed him back.
- Ashava told you that story? I cannot believe she still remembers that half-sentence I blurted out once! – he snickered bittersweetly.
- You leave a deeper impression in people than you realize, brother. I should know… to this day I cannot help but fully recall how annoying you had been back in the Heavens.
Inarius chuckled again, he gently shoved Tyrael and achieved precisely nothing because of his small stature. He prepared the perfect jab to retaliate with—
- INAAAARIUSSSSSS!
And the chamber shook.
The storm is definitely coming. Hope you cupcakes all enjoyed this longer calmer chapter! It'll be the last one for a while.
We are definitely in the endgame now. I am not sure if the Act will finish in 4 chapters until the end of the year, but it might just even do so. We shall find out together! Lend me your energy! These following chapters will be one hell of a challenge to put together, but I promise you all I will do my absolute best!
See you all in September!
Lore & Trivia Corner
- Solum: meaning "foundation", "land" or "homeland" in Latin. I felt it to be a fitting name for this infamous meadow from the Sin War trilogy. Originally the place had no name (none that I am aware of, that is) and there were only two notable things about it: 1) Here stood the Cathedral of Light in all of its deceptive glory, and 2) the grass could be enchanted to pull down and suffocate intruders. Presumable the place had been utterly destroyed during the three-way battle, as well as Uldyssian's and Inarius' Dragon Ball Z fight. But naaaah, that would be too boring, cupcakes. We do not roll like that in this fanfic.
- Banners: my addition. A subcategory of Hope angels, they are specialized in keeping morale and bravery high in troops during battle. Their constant support is often a game-changer, and quite a few of them had been decorated by Imperius himself for their service. You can read more about them and the rest of Hope's ilk here:
www_._deviantart_._com_(slash)_kenyizsu/art/D3-Angelic-Subspecies-Hope-783138134
- Rathma's design: I don't think I have mentioned it before, but yes, Rathma's appearance in the fanfic matches that creepy bastard cultist's design from Diablo 4's announcement cinematic "By Three They Come". Although it is not officially admitted or denied, it is speculated that the guy is actually Rathma, and I have seen a video with pretty compelling evidence of it too, which digs damn-near into the coding of the original video uploaded to the official website to find clues of it. Now this could be a misunderstanding, a left-over note from an earlier version of the story where that character had been Rathma, or any other reason. I am not a hundred percent sure myself, and I will not take it for granted until the game itself comes out and I play the campaign. But I actually really really like that design, and I think it fits a first generation Nephalem perfectly (the very first Nephalem, in fact) – just inhuman enough to drive the point home. I have seen far too many "wholescale Tolkien elf rip-off" designs of him, this one's a breath of fresh air if it turns out to be true.
- the creation of Sanctuary: although we hear the story a million times, the details are always left out. Now it can be argued that Sanctuary was just puffed into existence without any issues, sure. But where is the fun in that, cupcakes? I wanted to depict a more gradual progress, something that needed perfection and refinement down the line. After all, Sanctuary seems far more complex of a world than anything else within Creation. Certainly, it could not have been a success from the very start.
- Inspiration music: I mostly listened to "SPIRIT | Epic Celestial Orchestral Music Mix" by Atom Music Audio (David Michael Tardy) and the Epic Music collection of "SERENE", again by Atom Music Audio. Both are uploaded to the channel "Pandora Journey" on Youtube. Go give them a listen, if you wish for a soft epic vibe for your work.
