Second year is over, ohmigosh!! Well… almost, until I get my results back, anyway. In the meanwhile, I shall alleviate my panic over my results by writing.

Sorry about how late this is; I had the Prime Evils of Assignments, Exams and Writer's Block bombarding me with volleys of combo attacks.

And I have to thank Emmelyn Cindy Mah for her second opinion on this, as always! And to all your readers and reviewers out there, I owe you all for my muse's sustenance.

Disclaimer: I don't own Diablo. I haven't played it since five years ago. I want the game back, but my discs have stuffed up. Go figure.


Chapter 32

This Inhuman Place


It became easier over the next few days, as the tension started to ease between the residents of the Pandemonium Fortress and us newcomers. Oread and Nyhl were pretty much fully recovered, and while they acquainted themselves with the sceneries of Hell, I tried to make myself useful by offering to help Jamella organise her huge collection of books, scrolls and parchments.

She scowled faintly at the offer, probably because she did not want her possessions rummaged through, though she declined with the reason that I would not do to exert myself just yet.

I bit my lip to suppress the anxiety as I sat down onto a nearby stool. To think that my master was out there, most likely fighting demons in their own territory, was an unnerving thought.

… And a rather aggravating one.

"There's no need to worry about those two, you know." Jamella said with her usual stern tone, but as I looked up there was a smile on her face. "They're adults; if they've managed to stay alive thus far, they'd have enough common sense not to get killed out there just yet."

Just yet. Funny she said that; death was always looming like a heavy storm cloud, and we all knew it – embrace it, almost – as a fact of life. "Jamella," I called quietly.

"Yes?" She lifted her eyes from the large tome she was reading.

"This place… pardon my prying, but it's not exactly the most… usual place for a child to grow up in." I shifted my eyes away from her neutral but intense gaze. "How did you get here?"

Without a single pause, she smirked. "There's no need to be so uneasy about it. I understand that being in your tender years, you're sure to have questions about many of these things."

I felt the hot blood rushing to my face, and lowered my head further, my hand seeking my mother's jewel upon my throat. "Yes… sorry."

She snickered a little, her eyes becoming gentler as she marked the page in her tome with a thick, violet ribbon attached to the spine of the book, and closed it with a soft thump.

"Halbu and I met after I fled from Lut Gholein. I was a priestess at the temple back then, amongst other things. We met on the western edge of the desert, and we kept travelling west together… towards your homeland, I believe."

"Westmarch." I stated, my voice carrying the sullen tone that I had failed to withhold.

"That's right." She dipped her head in a small nod, as if acknowledging my expression of homesickness. "We stayed a while in Tristram… a few years, got married, and were considering settling down for real and starting a family there, before the corruption of the city came about. While we were escaping that place, Tyrael got us out of there and appointed us to these posts."

"And Kande?"

"She was born three months after we got here." Jamella answered almost instantly; her face lit up as she speaks with pride of her infant daughter. "We worried sometimes that she'll grow up to be… different, being so isolated from the world to begin with. She seems to be faring okay, though, but really," her voice dropped down a notch in both volume and tone. "We just want this to be over with so that our little girl can grow up like any normal child."

We sat there for a long moment, each engrossed in our own thoughts. My own drifted between the Sisterhood and Jerhyn, to what I had left behind.

I was beginning to feel like a bit of a snoop and wondering how to excuse myself when Jamella started, bumping the table and making me yelp. She did not notice it, though, as she bolted out with such swift speed that I would not easily have associated with her stature.

I followed her onto the open courtyard in the centre of the fortress, and there stood my two companions, looking rather more exhausted than beaten, Nyhl leaning onto my master with one arm over her shoulder, and Oread holding him with a hand around the back of his waist, supporting him.

Both their eyes were fixated upon the lady-healer, whose fingertips were glowing a dull gold. She stood with her legs set sturdily apart before a blue town portal that the other two had just opened.

But the different thing about this portal… I could actually see through it to the barren terrain that Oread and Nyhl had returned from, could feel the dreary, dead waves of heat that seeped from the earth, could smell the sour, sharp aroma of sulphur as it stung the back of my nose.

With a quick exhale, Jamella began to trace golden runes in the air with her fingers. These runes surrounded themselves around the portal, coagulating along the glowing rim of the elliptic door that traversed space.

With a grand sweeping motion of Jamella's hands, the portal began to shrink in size, apparently being forced closed by the runes.

Then with an ominous sound somewhere between a hiss and a growl, the portal winked out of existence, its dying burst of white light burning colourful shadows into my vision.

I shook the dull, nagging ache from my head when Jamella sighed, and then started to splutter almost incoherently. "What d'you two think you're doing? Where do you think this is? Did you really think you can just do that? Did you consider, for a moment, that this isn't a place where you can get away with it?"

Oread and Nyhl only looked at her incredulously, stunned, apparently just as shocked by Jamella's outburst as I was, if not downright terrified by it.

Jamella sighed again, loudly this time with the force of frustration; then she lowered her head and shook it twice, fighting to regain control. "Pardon me," her voice had calmed and quietened, but still bore that hysterical edge, "I guess I forgot to tell you – you can't open these common portals here. The demons have power over this place; they'd be able to come through and infiltrate this last fortress that stands between us and them."

An uncomfortable silence blanketed over us. My master's lips quivered a little as her brows drew tighter, but it was the Necromancer that spoke.

"Sorry." Quietly.

Jamella shook her head again. "Just remember: this isn't a place that belongs to men – it's inhuman. This is Hell. Anything that's created here is subjected to tainting by its demonic ambience."


"So you took out Izual?"

"Uh-huh." Oread replied to Halbu, rubbing her fingers over her knuckles as we sat at the table, long after we had finished dinner and cleared the table. "We didn't know what to do when we first saw him, then he attacked, so we just…" She lifted her tired eyes to Halbu. "What is he?"

"The former lieutenant of the archangel Tyrael." The blacksmith answered simply.

Oread's eyes widened a little, the frantic glint in them betraying her shock. "Tyrael?"

"So we took down an angel?" Nyhl's question followed Oread's seamlessly, though his carried a sarcastic sort of snide. He leaned his jaw into his knuckles, his elbow upon the table top, his eyes terribly cold. "The holy forces aren't exactly of… great strength, are they?"

Halbu snorted softly at that. "Heaven's power is beyond our comprehension, death-mage."

"It's just that Hell's appear to be stronger." Nyhl commented dryly, almost cruelly.

At that, Oread jerked her head towards him. She looked a little distressed or disturbed, though her voice was not quite as admonishing as the words that they attempted to carry. "What is your problem?"

"It's just… the idea that the gods are doing anything about this is beyond me, that's all." He shrugged, in a frighteningly casual manner.

"That's some pretty twisted shit, Necromancer." Oread accused, one of her delicate brows arching further down. I was suddenly glad that Jamella had brought Kande off to wash up and be ready for bed; such a conversation was not healthy for a little girl like her.

Nyhl met her eyes with his own, his face hard and unreadable. "Never mind, sorry." He said finally, lowering his eyes to the empty table again.

"So, uh…" I began, not wanting the awkwardness to prevail for much longer. "Tyrael himself actually comes to this place?" I had never seen the archangel before, though by what I heard from those who had, it seemed to be a tremendously mystical encounter.

Halbu sighed, his breath whistling a bit through his teeth. "Once in a while, yeah." He leaned further back in his chair. "He used to be around more, to guard the fortress himself, but lately, the seals binding Diablo and his strongest minions within the grounds of the Chaos Sanctuary kept slipping. That and both Kurast and Harrogath have come under attack more frequently. He can't battle the Prime Evils by himself, but he's doing all he can to confine the damage."

A faint smile crept into his features – a face that was gentle and understanding, a stark contrast to his wife's strong, defiant façade. "He doesn't have to worry much about Kurast anymore, of course, but unfortunately that's not the worst of it."

He stopped, scanning across at the three of us quickly, and then widened his smile as he lowered his gaze. "Well, you'll see him in person when he comes." He slid his chair back and rose to his feet. "In the meanwhile, you must be worn out after a day's battle. I bid you goodnight, then." He inclined his head in a polite nod, and exited the dining area.

As soon as Halbu was out of earshot, Oread turned to face Nyhl squarely, scraping the legs of her chair against the floor as she demanded, "What the hell was that?!"

"I said 'never mind'." His tone was flat.

"The last thing we need now is that sort of pessimistic bullshit, Necromancer." Oread hissed, speaking through gritted teeth. "You're not exactly helping when it comes to getting along with these people with an attitude like that, are you?"

"I never realised you were the sort that cared that much for socialising." Nyhl retorted, a touch of anger creeping in.

"Hey!" I intervened just as Oread's eyes flared with rage. "You two… you're not yourself at the moment. You're both exhausted and probably aching all over. Why don't we talk tomorrow after you've rested and mellowed a bit?"

Oread uttered a low, barely audible grunt and chewed on the insides of her cheeks, but she held back. Seeing that they had both opted for silence, I sank back lower into my seat. "And… I want to have a decent talk with you guys. We haven't really talked properly since before we went off to Mephisto, and that wasn't even a real talk then –"

Then I remembered; and, raising my head, I narrowed my eyes slightly at the pair of them. "… Or at least, we haven't had a real talk between the three of us since then."

Nyhl sighed in response to that. "You're right." He blinked slowly. "A lot's happened during this time that demands closure, or something approaching that, anyway." Supporting himself with his hands upon the table, he stood. "I'll see you both tomorrow, then."

Watching him walk off with a light limp, it was my turn to ask the question. "What's gotten into him?"

For a moment, Oread just looked at me, her expression three parts dazed, two parts concerned, and one part tender. Then she sighed and leaned her face into her hands. "Celadon," she began, sombrely, "there are things about him that you don't know of… that I don't know of. For one thing, though, it turned out that he's related to Natalya."

I felt my eyes widen and something catch in my chest. "What?!" I exclaimed, with too much shock than what would be deemed proper.

"She was his late brother's wife-to-be." She reached out with a hand to brush one side of her bangs from her face. "Doesn't help that he detonated her corpse, huh?"

"Holy –"

"On the other hand, I'm not sure what he's got against Tyrael and the heavenly hosts in general," a few stray locks had fallen back in front of her eyes, and she shook them off gently, "but his reaction to Izual was unexpected, to say the least. Izual… his aura was dark and heavy with demonic energy, but you could tell that he had some divinity in him. He wasn't like the other monsters we came across, by appearance or behaviour. He felt different." Her shoulders tensed a little in a would-be shrug. "Might well have been a good thing, though. While I was hesitating and wondering what to do, he just went for it. Like the fallen angel was like any other hell-spawn."

"That man is disturbed." I commented, feeling like I could be honest with Oread while we were alone together. While the content of our conversation was not the most pleasant, I did relish in the ease between us; that had not been around for a good while.

She chuckled once in response, with minimal amusement. "Who here's not disturbed? We're putting our lives on the line to fight against demons that are trying to end the world. We all have our reasons, of course. There can't be that much gallantry in existence."

Her words struck a resonating echo in my mind, further calming my turbulent thoughts. "Do you love him despite that? Despite whatever else he may be?"

"He loves me despite whatever terrible things he sees in me, it's only fair to return the favour." She grinned, more genuinely this time. "Nah, if that's what he is, so be it. Maybe we're both just desperate, but well," her hand swept across the air before her in a swift gesture of snatching, "seize the moment, right? Take what's there and treasure whatever you have, because it may well be the best that you can get." She returned her hand to the table. "If he thinks I'm good enough for him, then that's good enough for me."

I gazed at her for a while, taking in her happiness amidst the dread and doom that hangs above everything in this place, and then laughed. "For someone who takes so long to open up to anyone, you sure fall hard when it comes to love."

Oread smiled. "Who knows? It may just be a weird mix of lust and despair." She chuckled again. "But if we already live life so carelessly, it makes sense that we should be allowed a bit of carelessness in this aspect of things, right?"

I remembered Jerhyn, and a bittersweet wave swelled into my chest. "You've convinced me." I shrugged and smiled back. "Wish you'd done that sooner." I laughed, but not entirely in jest.

"Time can be short, Celadon." She brushed her bangs back with both hands as she got to her feet. "There are many things I'd like to do, many things I'd like to know, but I guess for people like us, we can only make the best of what we have." She untied her braid, running her hands through sleek locks of champagne, smoothing down the kinks along the natural wave of her otherwise-straight hair. "And I'm not complaining." She grinned once more, again expressing that against-all-odds sort of joy. "It's been a long day; I think I'll hit the hay now."

"Okay." I rocked my chair back as I watched her go, her feet almost dragging along the floor from fatigue. "Goodnight, then. I appreciated that."

"No problem, the feeling's mutual." She waved it off, and I could still hear the smile in her words. "'Night."


We never did get around to talking between the three of us, though.

We all felt that sudden spike in light energy even in our sleep; I supposed it was not all that difficult, though, given how thick the dark aura was in this place.

I almost tumbled out of my bed, my hair in disarray, reddish-brown bangs falling into my field of vision, looking almost crimson under the hellish light of the infernal skies, dimmed by the canvas roof of our makeshift room.

"What the hell was that?" Oread sat up and asked groggily with half-closed eyes, her nightdress sliding, revealing one bare shoulder.

"Something's here." I said rather stupidly, my voice was hoarse from sleep. I rubbed my eyes with my knuckles to clear the blurriness. "Shall we go?"

We followed our senses to where we first stood upon this fortress, back at the end of the corridor, and saw only blinding white light filling the place that would otherwise be a dark, dank grey. Then the light subsided, the glow shrunk down into a small mass.

Before my eyes could see properly again, I felt a hard tackle around my waist and almost lost my balance.

I looked down and there was a head of silky dark brown hair, lined with strands of gold. "Leaf!" I dropped to my knees and buried her in a hug, feeling the heaves of her chest from soundless laughter.

"Master Cain." Nyhl's voice this time, monotonous and low. I looked up at the Necromancer; his arms were crossed, his hair was untied but his spectacles were in place, and the cold eyes behind them glared first at the old mage, then past him at the glowing heap on the floor.

The glow slowly subsided, and took the form of a small human figure. When the corridor returned to its original dimness, I looked upon the tiny mass on the floor, and jolted involuntarily when it stirred.

The bulk appeared to be a young child dressed in seamless robes of untainted white, with a simple style but elaborate, fine embroidery of gold and silver tracing foreign runes over the floaty fabric.

The child's head lifted – the delicately-featured but handsome face of a boy no older than eight years – and shook his short, straight hair from his eyes. Hair of a uniform, solidly opaque shade of near-white blonde, that looked to be almost shining against his golden-tanned skin.

His eyes snapped open… large, round eyes typical of a child considered by most to be cute and adorable. Although he was not looking at me, I could sense his concentration enveloping all of us. He turned his face up, and the eyes that I saw were inhuman – irises of a liquidly silver, slightly smoky in shade, and no visible pupils.

Jamella ran past me towards the boy, her hand soft upon his shoulder as she helped him to his feet. "Tyrael, what happened this time?"

Tyrael?

"I went back to terminate the trans-dimensional connection between here and Kurast," his voice was not unlike those of other regular eight-year-old boys, though the formal tone of his words, the severe glint in his eyes… they nevertheless made it sound incongruous. "And brought these two along the way, but the seals at the Chaos Sanctuary threatened to failed again, and I had to leave them somewhere in-between, reconsolidate the seals, and come back to bring them here before they got engulfed by the void."

He dusted off his robes, the action surprisingly realistic and… material. "The Evils' powers are growing; Hell's forces are gathering strength and momentum, no questioning that." He remarked, with a strangely human scowl.

"So," Nyhl spoke up, his tone contemplative but stern, and the boy jerked his head up to look him straight back in the eyes. Nyhl seemed undaunted by this, as he flicked some loose strands of hair over his shoulder. "You're the archangel who guards the realm of us mortal humans against this."

Jamella threw a sharp glance at him. "You don't have the right to sp–"

"It's fine, Jamella." The boy… Tyrael, cut her off just as Oread gripped hard onto Nyhl's shoulder. Nyhl looked at my master nonchalantly, and my master just shook her head.

Tyrael sighed; every bit of how he looked, how he acted, how he moved, how he spoke… there was almost nothing ethereal about them. "I think I should thank you all, to begin with. For slaying Mephisto, for responding to the call to come here… for being out here in the first place." He shifted his metallic-coloured eyes to Oread, and grinned. "Even if you think there wasn't a choice in the first place. I'm sorry, and I really do appreciate your help."

Oread jumped a little, and I started to wonder about that just as Tyrael made me jump as well, "In response to your query, Celadon, I'm taking this human form because it's easier to contain my spiritual power this way, with a physical body."

… Did he just read my mind? "Sorry for prying." He nodded apologetically, and I flinched again. He blinked in childlike amusement before looking away. "But well… the kinds of damage that we ethereal beings sustain are taken at the spiritual level, not unlike what you call 'mana' in mortal beings; and when our spiritual power becomes drained or rampant, it can't support an immaterial body constructed entirely out of spiritual energy." His glance shifted smoothly towards Nyhl. "And yes, I do realise how pathetic this looks." He shrugged.

"So you called us here." I finally managed to articulate my speech.

"I know of the hardships that you've endured along the way –"

"You have no idea." Nyhl snarled, his tone dark and resentful.

"– With your most recent trial being that of putting my late lieutenant at peace." His eyes stared straight at Nyhl now, with an open solemnity that almost surpassed the Necromancer's coldness in intensity. "I can't express the heavens' gratitude for that, but I do regret the things that have happened to you, Nyhl, that makes you believe there were no counterforces against evil except for what humanity can offer."

"What can we do, then?" Oread's voice, slight shaky, betraying the onset of panic or anxiety. "What do you expect us to do if not even you can put a stop to this?" Her volume stepped quickly up with her words. Leaf held me more tightly as my master escalated her voice almost into a wail. "Naiad… she came here and died here, like many before her. You can't just keep sending people to their deaths this way!"

It was Nyhl's turn to pat her on the shoulder, and she clung to him as he did so. Tyrael bowed his head and closed his eyes. "It seems that way, doesn't it?" He spoke slowly, the dark grief prevailing throughout his speech. "There is the crucial difference between humanity and divinity, however – you humans have free will. You have the power to decide, to rebel, to choose."

His eyes fluttered open again, though he kept his gaze low – considering, pondering, hoping. "And that, I think, will make all the difference in the end."