.

Diablo: Jungle of Shadow

Chapter 4: Darkness

"So Felix...do you think the convoy's still there?"

"Well, my gut says no. But then again, I haven't had any food pass through it all day, it probably doesn't know what the hell it's saying."

"...please, don't mention Hell."

Felix meant it, and while his elder brother might have taken advantage of his emotions a decade or so ago, now was a different time. He didn't know how much the encounter with the demon had changed their bond, but Felix knew that it had changed him. Dreams were all well and good, but now, he would inevitably find them balanced with nightmares. Perhaps even superseded by them. Even with the light that had saved them, the voice in his brother's head that was not of Zagan...something dark was within him now. As surely as dark surrounded them.

"You sure you can see where you're going?" the younger son of Passanius asked, his wary eyes straining to make out objects in the gloom. "I mean..."

"Touch and go, little brother. Touch and go."

And Seth meant it. They'd spent the last hours of sunset heading what they hoped was south, and it had paid off as they found the tracks left by the convoy. Neither brother was particularly knowledgeable in the art of tracking, but Seth had guessed from the faintness of the wagon tracks that the convoy had passed by this spot in the jungle some time ago. All that was left to do was follow it to the point where it had left off. True, if it had gone to Seram they could perhaps track it all the way back, but even with the demon gone, the jungle still reportedly held many dangers.

"We're not going to find them, are we?" Felix asked softly, shivering in the gloom for reasons other than the transpiration of his earlier perspiration. "They've left us..."

"Father wouldn't do that..."

"Wouldn't he?"

Seth didn't answer. He'd told Felix why he'd come alone, why Passanius had refused to lend aid. He knew he shouldn't be surprised, that he should be grateful that his brother had come after him, that same brother having expressed doubt that the convoy would be there as well. But still...

"Wait."

Felix stopped. Even in the gloom, he could see his brother's hand extended out before him. And he could also see what likely prompted Seth to tell him to wait in the first place. A torch, flickering in the gloom, like a solitary firefly. Flame unlike that of Zagan, but flame nonetheless...

"Brother?" the young teen asked. "What do we do?"

Seth remained silent, still holding out his hand. The flame was moving closer towards them. But were they like the lamp that drew in the moth, or were they grass awaiting the flame?

"Seth?" came the voice of the torch. "Felix?"

Or...were their grim expectations completely wrong?

"Father?" Seth asked, lowering his hand from his brother, but still remaining stationary. "Is that you?"

Felix's heart began pounding as the figure emerged from the gloom. A figure that had the form of a man he knew. A figure whose visage was revealed to be that of Passanius, father of Seth and Felix, husband of Santori. A figure who as he drew closer, stopped, dropped his torch, and sprinted (or what counted as sprinting for a man his age) towards both of his sons, embracing them both. As one. As equals. As family.

"Felix...Seth..." he whispered, tightening the embrace. "You're safe..."

Felix didn't know what to say. On one hand, his father was hugging him, an act that he couldn't remember since the age of seven. On the other, this was the man who'd been quite willing to leave him to the Burning Hells. To leave with the son that didn't remind him of his deceased wife. Luckily, he didn't have to say anything. Breaking off the embrace, it was Seth who would do the talking.

"Yes, father, we're safe..." said the trader's elder son cordially. "No thanks to you I might add..."

Passanius lowered his head slightly. "Yes, it's true. And for that I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't worry. It's not as if we're family or anything."

"Yes, my son, you are," intoned the elderly man gravely. "You're family. Family that my men possess also."

"And you put them before-..."

"I let them put their own families before mine. That's why the convoy has gone. That's why I waited here for you." He turned to Felix, affection radiating from his old eyes. "For both of you. Because I care for both of you. Even...if I don't always show it."

Seth glanced at Felix. Felix glanced back. What should he make of this? Should he be touched that his father waited? Disgusted that he didn't come after him? Glad that, for now at least, both sons of Passanius were equally important to him. He didn't know.

But then again, he wasn't Passanius. He didn't have the responsibility of other men to deal with. Perhaps...doing what was both right and wrong...was what Passanius had done. What he'd had to do. To be in balance with family and friends. So no...he wouldn't judge him. He and his brother had been granted mercy today, he was sure of it. He wouldn't dishonour that granter of mercy by refusing to forgive his own kin.

"I can imagine you might have much to tell me," Passanius said, picking up his torch and procuring some waterskins and salted meat. "But for now...I think that story can wait."

"Can it?" Seth asked.

"Yes, it can," said Felix softly. "We...we're together now. Once we're home...then we'll have all the time in the world."

And he really hoped that. That Zagan wasn't part of something wider. That things would get better in the East. He hoped that one day, he could dream without fear again.

And as he gratefully accepted the flask and meat from his father, as the family took part in their evening meal, Felix, son of both Passanius and Santori, believed that could one day be the case.


The being was...interested.

What he was interested in however...that was another matter, and not one he was inclined to share. Not even the corpse of Zagan, the demon's extinguished form washed up on the banks of the stream like flotsam and jetsam. He was interested in how this had come to be, how such a mighty servant had been felled. He was interested in the race of Men, how if beings among their number could do this, how valuable they might be were they turned to the cause of Hell. And last but not least, he was interested in the other entity he had sensed. What that might mean for him and his allies...

As silverly light filled the gloom, the being knew he wouldn't have to wait long to find out. Angels were so predictable.

The demon turned to face the divine being. While he was a shadowy being, barely capable of existing in the physical realm, the angel was sheer radiance. White tendril-like wings, golden armour, soft robes the colour of sky and sea...disgusting, really. Both in form, and the idea that a servant of Heaven would bother with a being as "wretched" as himself.

Well, keep thinking that you misguided fool. Keep thinking that right up until I tear your head from your shoulders.

"We may speak as we may here," the angel intoned. "You need not hide in the shadows from me."

"Stay much longer, and the same awaits you," the demon growled, meeting the angel's blank gaze, avoiding the damage a mortal might incur from such an act in much the same way the angel was able to resist the feelings of dread he generated. "You feel it, don't you? The suffocation? The hindering of your powers?"

"That doesn't concern me."

"No...I expect it doesn't."

But it did concern him. That was why he'd lurked here for much of the Dark Exile over the last few decades. That was why Zagan had brought mortals to him over that time, the demon feeding on their fear to help sustain his shadowy form, subsisting on their emotion in much the same way the lesser demon had. It was a simple relationship, and had served them well right up until now. Until the angel had spoken in the mind of one of the humans, playing the same mind games Zagan had. Had even teleported them to safety, once each.

"I must say, you surprise me..." the demon sneered. "I never thought the servants of Order would be so willing to concern themselves with mortal matters."

"Judge me all you want, demon," the angel intoned. "Heaven's judgement is all I answer to, not the word of some wretched creature who-..."

"Silence!"

The demon lunged forward, his shadow moving through the gloom like a shark might swim among fish. Only the effect was non-existent, the angel's wings shielding him from the fel energy. His...no...her...

"Auriel..." the demon chuckled, remembering the being from numerous battles, along with the pact both Heaven and Hell made to leave Sanctuary be. "I did not expect to see you down here...what would the archangel of what is called love want with me?"

"Nothing," Auriel intoned, her voice like a sweet melody and thus torture to the demon's vaporous ears. "Nothing at all. Not from you at least. All I want is to see as few innocents suffer from your hands as possible."

"Innocents..." the being snorted. "Don't play the 'holier than thou' game, angel. You care nothing for Man. No more or less than we do. If you truly believed the hypocrisy you and your followers teach, you'd strike me down, here and now. But no...you operate on rules...on standards...you would not interfere directly, even when we banished few have no choice to. Oh no, angel...you are no better than us..."

Auriel's wings receded, much to the demon's satisfaction. It was true, and she knew it. For all her preaching and posturing, Man was nothing but a curiosity to Heaven. A race that was an accident, and some among their number believed should be eradicated accordingly. They would not break the laws of the Great Conflict, wouldn't risk one of their own even if a thousand innocents could be spared. At least, not yet. One eventually would. The demon was counting on it.

"I take my leave," Auriel intoned. "I have helped your intended prey to the bare minimum, no more or less than any other angel who consorts with Man. I thus leave you to the darkness."

"I welcome it, angel. Leave me...and don't return unless you intend to meet me in a more direct manner."

"Not I..." the archangel said firmly. "But soon...soon you will find that mortals will find it within them to bind you. It's in their nature. In their...souls, if you will."

"I'm counting on it."

And with that, the angel was gone. Gone to the High Heavens. Gone to the realm where soon, one would serve Hell through his or her actions. Serve in just the way Izual had predicted.

But for now though, he had to wait. Wait in the darkness. Wait for the time when the soulstones were brought to bear.

But that suited him just fine. He and his brothers had all the time in the world.

And Diablo, Lord of Terror, would relish every moment of it.

The End


A/N

Well, that's that done.

Even up to the point of writing this, the concept of this chapter gave me problems, as to which angel to use, since my M.O. is to use canon characters when I have the opportunity to do so, yet not only are there not that many angels named, but few can be said to really give a damn about Sanctuary bar its possible role in the Great Conflict. Tyrael was a no-no in this case, in that not only does this story take place before the formation of the Horadrim, but I personally suspect that he may have deeper motives to be revealed in Diablo III. Yaerius was a possibility, but considering that he seems to have stuck to Heaven's M.O. by simply directing the founding of the Zakarum, taking an active role was perhaps a bit of a stretch. As such, I settled on Auriel-compassionate enough to have an interest in individual humans, but not on the level of Tyrael's defiance of the Angiris Council.

Anyway, as I said above, that's that. No other Diablo stories currently on my 'to write' list. By way of shameless plugging, at this time of writing, I'm working on a Sonic the Hedgehog story titled Heads or Tails.