Westmarch was only a fragment of the nation he remembered; if not for the same landmarks, Kormac would have thought it a different country altogether. Granted, the last time he had set foot in the realm was five years past, when the Order had sent him on a mission to gather more "sinners," so they might atone for their deeds by joining the Templars—a lie Kormac knew, for he had been one of those forcefully enlisted—so naturally things would have changed with time, but he could hardly call this place home now.
The capital had been dreary before, when the then-King had shirked his duties leading to the steady decline of the nation, but the overwhelming sense of dread that enveloped the place now was something different altogether. There was the sound of perpetual wailing, a mix of noise from the cries of those mourning and the screeching of the Death Maidens, pining for souls just outside the city. Kormac and Eirena had the pleasure of encountering one of those on their way to this place. Tyrael, with the help of the nephalem and a few others, had managed to place a seal around the inner city, a place they deemed the "Survivor's Enclave."
This was where they convened now. It had taken almost a full day to journey from the outskirts of Westmarch, where he'd picked up his traveling companion, to get to the enclave. The closer they got to their destination, the more the road had begun to twist, turning so that the true path was shrouded by illusion, leading the duo to wander aimlessly amid the once-live groves surrounding the capital.
Doubtless, they would still be lost, had they not had the prodigious luck of running into a guide, one they later learned was the only surviving member of the new Horadrim, Lorath Nahr. He had encountered them just as they stepped into the way of a Soul Reaper, a Death Maiden, and had warded it off, but not without sacrifice.
The remainder of the trip was spent on foot; Eirena's gelding Peachblossom had faltered. Kormac glanced up to peer at the sorceress seated across from him, her visage flickering through the heat of the flame that burned between them. Her head was tilted slightly with hands clasped and nestled deeply between her thighs.
Kormac watched intently, the way her almond-shaped eyes were turned downward, mirroring the faint frown on her cherry lips. She was clearly struggling to deal with the loss of her beloved mount, a sweet thing gifted to her by Asheara during the months he had been absent. Eirena had meant to leave it for the boys, Uzziel and Zadok, when she returned. That much she had told him when they shared a saddle.
Now the horse was gone, but Kormac could hardly understand Eirena's lingering sadness. He lost mounts all the time! What was the use of being so distraught and morose over the death of a single horse? Still, it bothered him to see her like this, so he resolved to lift her spirits in the only way he knew how. Moving closer to the Enchantress, Kormac laid a hand gingerly on her shoulder. Eirena made no effort to move.
"Cheer up Eirena, tis only a horse. I'll buy you another one when this is over!"
Normally, Kormac was quite tight with his purse, only opening it to buy absolute necessities. One time, he had gone a whole month without socks. For Eirena, he was willing to allot a few exceptions. He flashed her a most genuine grin, hoping the offer would return to the woman her usual spirits.
The way Eirena turned to him, eyes filled with disgust, lips bent in a scowl was not reassuring.
Confused, Kormac withdrew his touch. Perhaps the offer was not enough. The horse had been something of more sentimental value after all. "Two horses! I'll buy you two…" Eirena's expression only soured as Kormac stammered on, "Two war steeds fit for the best of fighters! I'll even train them myself!" He was waving his hand enthusiastically now, in a way that, from an outsider's perspective, could have been mistaken for begging. The sorceress said naught a word, but glowered at the warrior poisonously.
"Upsetting the women now are we?" a new voice drawled from behind the two of them, "That won't do."
Kormac made no effort to face this new voice for he knew all too well who the owner was, and such a man deserved no respect.
"Lyndon!" Eirena enumerated, standing to face the Scoundrel. "It's been so long since we met. How have you been?" Any traces of sorrow were faded from the maiden's youthful face as she clasped hands with the thief in a most congenial manner.
Lyndon automatically raised her delicate fingers to his lips for a brief touch, causing the woman to flush. "I've been wonderful! Work is work, and I'm ever so close to buying my very own mansion." The last word seemed directed at the hulk seated before him, who shifted ever so slightly. Lyndon smirked.
The man in front of him had said nary a word, not even bothering to turn around, but Lyndon could see the way Kormac's jaw clenched when Eirena had stood to greet the rogue. It was terribly fun to tease the Templar. "How about I invite you, my dear, to join me in my mansion then. Hmm?"
Lyndon slipped a casual hand around the waist of the petite Enchantress, causing her to yelp with surprise, although she made no effort to pull away. It did, however, cause another individual to rise, seething as he towered over the Scoundrel.
"Unhand her, you miscreant!"
"Kormac! I'm perfectly capable of defending myself," Eirena protested, but was promptly ignored.
"You're corrupting the pure with your ways."
Lyndon scoffed, unfazed despite the man who stood half a head above him. The Templar wouldn't dare lay a hand on him and he knew it. It wasn't too often one got to mess with someone so uptight. Quirking an eyebrow at Kormac, Lyndon gasped, feigning surprise. "Oh my, Kormac, old friend! I did not see you there. How long have you been in town?"
"Don't lie, Scoundrel," Kormac growled, inches from the rogue's face. "You knew I was here all along."
"Surely you jest!" Lyndon contested, waving his free hand in mock innocence. "I assure you I simply thought some miscreant was pestering this beautiful flower and sought only to rescue her. Who would have thought it was you!"
Kormac's jaw quivered at the insult, the grinding of tooth on tooth almost audible. For a brief moment, the duty-bound considered clocking this incorrigible lout above the head, but greater judgment prevailed. His eyes darted to Eirena, who beheld a most curious expression, one of uncertainty and… fear?
Before Kormac could ponder and further, a familiar figure sauntered into view. The presence of this individual caused Lyndon to promptly release Eirena, who busied herself adjusting her skirts. Kormac immediately stood down.
"My friends." The nephalem nodded slightly at the trio. "I trust you have all had a safe journey."
Without skipping a beat, the hero briefed the group before issuing specific orders for each follower, instructing them to prepare for the quest at hand. Despite their age, the last of the nephalem was a capable leader and revered by all. This was the person who had led them to conquer Diablo, after all, something even Tyrael and Inarius had failed to do. This was a person who they could trust with their lives.
Already the nephalem had made much progress, destroying a fair number of Death Maidens among the Westmarch Commons with the help of Lyndon. Their next task would pit them against Malthael's most loyal retainer, Urzael, the Harbinger of Death.
"We will adjourn tomorrow at first light. Meet in front of the gates and do not dither." The nephalem dismissed the group, leaving each to attend to their own matters.
Wordlessly, Eirena strutted away as if in search of something. This left the two men alone.
"Well then, I do believe I'll become more acquainted with the town," Lyndon announced. "See you in the morning, and make sure you put out the fire when you're done, alright pal?" He gave his stone-faced companion a wink and was off.
Resignedly, Kormac paced around the fire pit, alone once again. Perhaps it was a mistake to invite Eirena. What a mess this was becoming.
"All those who wish for salvation, give thee to our savior Malthael! Our time is upon us!" Kormac stopped in his tracks, searching for the source of the proclamation. "To the great one Malthael, may all praise be! Let us shun the nonbelievers!"
Looking around, Kormac found the source; some distance away, a disgruntled looking priest stood atop what appeared to be a milking stool, spewing nonsense to a large crowd.
"Oh Malthael! Save us!" shrieked a woman from amid the group.
Slanting his eyes, Kormac approached the commotion.
"The rapture is upon us! Let us give ourselves willingly to Malthael and be saved!" the priest shouted to the receptive crowd.
The Templar was standing near the crowd now, close enough that he had become part of the group.
"Is there really nothing to be done?" people murmured around him.
"The end is coming! Who will save us?"
"Isn't Tyrael working with Malthael? Why is this happening?"
As if sensing the uncertainty among the crowd, the priest shouted yet another proclamation. "Do not be fooled by the lies of others! Our one and only savior is Malthael! Believe in him and be saved!"
Kormac could hardly believe his ears. This priest was blaspheming, leading the people of Survivor's Enclave to willingly embrace death, surrendering their souls to Malthael! Not only that, it seemed these people seemed unaware that there might be hope, that Malthael could be stopped and their lives saved. In fact, it appeared these people were unaware that their end was due to Malthael himself, and that the Angel of Death was hardly a savior. He looked around, alarmed to find the crowd growing steadily around him. These people, they had yet to see the light!
"He lies!" Kormac hollered, amid the crowd. "This priest is nothing but a fool and a liar! He seeks to lead you to your deaths!"
The crowd turned Kormac now, their attention on the Templar. "Malthael is not your savior! He is the Angel of Death and he seeks to end humanity!"
Voices began to grumble from within the group, some agreeing with Kormac, others with the priest.
"Do not listen to him!" the priest screamed, pointing gnarled finger at the Templar. "He is one of them! A demon! He's come to infect your minds, to turn you astray. Fear not for Malthael will save us!"
A large ring formed around Kormac now, paranoia apparent in the eyes of the people around him, eyes that knew the terror that demons wrought in their wake.
"I am not a demon!" Kormac countered, "I am of the Brotherhood, one of the Templar's Order and a bringer of light!"
The crowd rustled uncomfortably. "Templar's Order?" a woman shouted, "They took my son! He did nothing wrong!"
"Mine too!" another cried.
Startled, by the outcries, Kormac made to back away, only to find himself surrounded.
"The Templar's Order is filled with demons!" the priest screeched, "Your sons have been stolen by the demons! He's a demon! Expel him!"
The situation was dangerous now; Kormac readied himself for a skirmish as the panic of the crowd turned to anger toward the Templar. He could defend himself against a few, but against a group of thirty, he wasn't sure if he could get out without injuring any.
"Give me my son back!" a man cried, lunging forward to grab Kormac's shoulder.
"Enough!" There was a resounding clang of metal upon metal, the sound loud enough to cause everyone within earshot to pause. The noise came twenty paces away, from the blacksmith's area, where stood a thoroughly annoyed Haedrig Eamon. "Kormac is a good man and not a demon. Demons cannot enter the enclave." Haedrig shook his hammer menacingly at the crowd, causing a few members to step back, despite the blacksmith's distance from them. "Take yer squabbling elsewhere, especially you, priest."
To Kormac's surprise, the crowd slowly dispersed, leaving the priest to stand shakily on his makeshift pedestal.
"How did you do that?" Kormac directed at Haedrig.
The blacksmith shrugged, flipping the hammer high in the air and catching it nonchalantly, "They just know me, I s'pose."
Kormac made a mental note never to stand within throwing distance of the blacksmith's hammer.
Elsewhere, Eirena wandered into view of a large flamboyant wagon of violet and scarlet, strewn with silks and adorned amply with trinkets of gold and silver. The door of said wagon opened outward to reveal a set of steps, at the bottom of which stood a woman of copious proportions, although short in stature. The marks of time were evident in the woman's face, gentle indicators left by her eyes as she smiled. Something had been calling to Eirena ever since she'd entered the Survivor's Enclave, and now she had found it.
"Hello my child, what brings you to Myriam?" the woman spoke.
"Are you the one who called me?" Eirena started, hesitantly.
The older woman chuckled in reply. "Come my child," Myriam entered the wagon, gesturing for Eirena to follow. "There is much to discuss."
Obediently, Eirena followed the mystic, who closed the door behind them, before settling on one of the many cushions that littered the inside of the wagon. Eirena followed suit.
"Now, child. Let us talk. I am Myriam Jahzia of the Vecin. My people are travelers with the gift of prophecy. That is why you have come to me, is it not?"
"Oh no," Eirena replied, "I just had a feeling, one that called me here."
"Ah my child, but you see, you are Vizjerei, the ancestors of my people, no? Perhaps that is why you were called here to me."
The Enchantress gaped, eyes wide with disbelief as the mystic continued. "You seem confused! I must have startled you, my apologies." Myriam laid a comforting hand on Eirena's. "I have foretold your coming, dear Eirena."
"That is how you know who I am? Then you have seen the future!"
The mystic chortled in reply.
"Will we triumph? Or will humanity perish? What will become of everyone?"
"Now, now my dear, I cannot choose that which is foretold. The Sight comes to me in dream, but only in fragments." Myriam's tone had changed abruptly, her face grave, her voice low. "But for you, my dear, I have one warning. You will suffer a great loss, but with it, gain great revelation."
"Me?" Eirena stammered in shock, "Then can I—what must I do? What is this loss? Is there any way to prevent the outcome?"
It was no use inquiring, however. The mystic had returned to her previous demeanor and was bent on ushering the Enchantress out as if nothing had happened. "That is all, my dear. Good luck!"
Myriam all but pushed Eirena out the door, slamming it in the maiden's face. Eirena tripped down the stairs, thoroughly perplexed as she struggled to come to terms with what had just occurred. What a strange woman.
From the inside of the wagon, Myriam watched and breathed a sigh of relief when the sorceress left without pursuing the matter further. Divination was dangerous and never certain, for there were multiple paths for the future to take. Sometimes, by voicing what she had seen, Myriam could force the paths to align into a certain outcome, but even then, there was a risk. She hoped her words would reach the Enchantress; the future depended on it.
The rest of the day was relatively uneventful, spent by all members of the entourage as they prepared for the inevitable battle the next morning. For Kormac, who spent the majority of the night tossing in agitation, daybreak took far too long to arrive. Sleep eluded the warrior as his mind ran amok, needlessly exploring the endless possibilities of his inner dialogues with thoughts that chased away all notions of rest. When the cock finally crowed, Kormac stumbled, bleary-eyed to his feet.
Grabbing his essentials, the Templar forsook his morning ritual and headed for the group's predetermined meeting point. He was as awake as he was going to be and he needed to make haste so as to be on time. The Templar walked briskly to the gate.
In truth, Kormac's actions were expedient only in his mind; many in the Survivor's Enclave later noted the strange disheveled man who could have woken the dead with his needless clanking, clumsily wobbling about for what seemed to be eons, dropping this and that before stumbling awkwardly away.
"Kormac!" Eirena cried, when the Templar eventually trudged to the gate.
Everyone had already been waiting patiently for the one who was usually the timeliest of them all. Kormac stopped, turning his head in confusion. He was sure he would be the first to arrive, yet it seemed as if his companions had been waiting…
"You look horrid! What happened?" Eirena rushed to his side, placing two hands on his cheeks to survey the damage. His face was gaunt, a sickly shade of grey, and his bloodshot eyes seemed uneasy, focusing on something far beyond Eirena.
"Nothing of any importance, Kormac responded, brushing the sorceress off. "Now let's be off."