It was midday but the sky was dark, the light that gave life separated from the inhabitants of Westmarch by a barrier of thick clouds that persisted without end yet bore no precipitation. Eirena would have been glad for some rain, for it would have afforded them some sound other than the ambient screams of men while masking the smell of death, but no such pleasantry was found.
Instead the group was made to continue, their path illuminated only by the light of their spells and the flickering embers of homes now razed. Never ending streams of undead rose to engage them with every foot fall.
The combatting of hell spawn at Bastion's keep years prior had been bad, when Kormac had watched the keep holders struggle futilely against the hordes, but those battles were tame compared to these. At least there had been survivors then. This time there were none.
There was little they could do to keep the Death Maidens from spiriting away the souls of the afflicted. This much was evident by the constant creation of soulless undead they continued to battle. They could only watch as those around them were lost, their souls bound to their mortal bodies only by sheer force of will—or perhaps Malthael was sparing them for the time being for his own enjoyment. Either way, the group had to put an end to this before Malthael's plan came to fruition or the entirety of the Sanctuary would be lost.
They had to reclaim the stolen Black Soulstone even if it meant destroying the Angel of Death, or worse, sacrificing themselves. This, the group had agreed upon when they had ventured into Urzael's domain. The loss of a few comrades would be nothing if the world could be saved.
Eirena had been the first to agree, piping up in an uncharacteristically hopeful voice, while Kormac gave only a single solemn nod. Lyndon, as usual, downplayed the issue with a joke.
The confrontation between Urzael and the company was swift—the nephalem, with some help from the followers, enacted judgment on the fell angel with unwavering determination, although Kormac had come dangerously close to losing his head on account of his sleepiness.
Still, the timely defeat of Mathael's right hand was no cause for celebration, for Urzael had ultimately succeeded in his goal of buying the Death Angels more time. The nephalem realized this, as did Lorath Nahr their guide, but outwardly, both appeared calm and collected, betraying no anxieties. This was good, for it kept the group from panicking, although truthfully, there was only one among them who was ever susceptible to this.
She was on the verge of it now, clutching her stave to her chest as if to muffle the pounding of her heart as it threatened to leap from her youthful chest. Cemeteries did not bode well with Eirena.
Already, she'd been given a dreadful scare, having witnessed a skeleton climbing from its grave. If anyone had noted to themselves that the shriek released from the Enchantress could wake the dead, they would have been right, for naught but ten seconds later, the group had been surrounded by an army of bones. The enemies had been quickly dispatched, but the nephalem had betrayed the faintest of emotions, frowning as they gestured for Eirena to walk behind the rest of them, lest the sorceress attract more enemies.
In the back of their mind, the nephalem was silently grateful that it had been Kormac and not Eirena that they'd found near Leoric's Manor, or the Tyrael may very well have never been found.
Relegated to the end of the group, Eirena let out a muffled sigh. Although it was dark, she dared not look ahead. Instead her eyes focused on the ground at the footsteps of the Scoundrel in front of her. The nephalem had looked so disappointed in her earlier and so Eirena resolved to keep her hysterics to a minimum.
Only Kormac walked behind her; the Templar had insisted on defending their flanks and none objected, for they all remembered the last time any had dared to argue with the warrior. It had been weeks before the man would stop blathering about it and at that point, nobody could remember exactly what it was they had been disagreeing about. Whatever it had been, it just wasn't worth the constant argument. Even now, there was the fear that Kormac might remember the last incident and bring it up once again and no one dared give him any reason to, so the group walked in resolute silence.
"Where are we headed again?" Kormac inquired when they passed the fiftieth row of identical tombstones. It was awfully quiet, even for a man of little words like himself, so he took it up to make some small talk.
"We are going to Adria." The nephalem stated bluntly, in a way that invited no further questions.
Kormac, however, was oblivious to this sentiment and took the reply as a sign to continue chattering. "Then why are we here in the Briarthorn Cemetery?"
"Detour."
"I see," Kormac nodded, to nobody in particular, for he was at the end of the company.
"You know," Kormac quipped, much to the group's chagrin, "my grandfather's buried here. I pray he hasn't become one of the undead."
The Templar opened his mouth once more to continue but was interrupted when Eirena suddenly interjected. "What's that?"
The group turned in the direction of the Enchantress' pointed finger. To the right a few lengths away was an eerily bright blue glow. At the lead, the nephalem halted. They didn't have the time to spend exploring, but light was an indication of life, and the nephalem was not above rescuing survivors. They motioned the group toward the object.
The source of the light came from within a gated part of the cemetery. Pushing the rusted gates aside, the nephalem entered first, followed by the rest of the party. Within these gates lay a marble mausoleum. In front of it stood a specter who emitted the light. Behind the specter read the marker. "Here lies Friedrich and Penny Bartholomew. Giving in life and love, taken far too soon."
"Please help me," the apparition wailed in a high trailing voice that caused Eirena to jump ever so slightly and shuffle to stand behind the two burlier men in the party.
"What's the matter?" Lorath asked.
"I can hear… my husband moaning inside his sarcophagus. Please end his suffering."
"Of course, milady." Lorath promised, "We will put your husband to rest."
The casket of Friedrich Bartholomew was easy to identify as, true to Penny's words, a nearby grave began to tremble with horrible groaning sounds. Eirena shuddered visibly and Kormac, noticing this, instinctively stepped closer to the frightened Enchantress.
Lyndon on the other hand, peered intently at the tomb, wondering what treasures lay beneath the seal. Only a few very rich individuals could afford an entire plot to themselves, so the grave was sure to be rife with goods. Reaching to his side, the Scoundrel grasped the short sword that hung on his belt. He'd pilfered this from one of the dead as an afterthought, and it would come in handy now.
Swiftly and without warning, the vagabond jumped and drew the weapon, slamming it down on the stone grave with the force of both hands. A terrific twang rang out as sword met with stone and the weakened rock gave way, crumbling inward. Lyndon smiled, stepping back to admire his handiwork. Like this, the grave appeared almost like a birthday cake the sword which impaled the sarcophagus the candle atop the delectable treasure he would soon have the chance to savor.
A hair-curling shriek immediately erupted from a certain female party member, causing everyone to become momentarily dazed as they watched the grave writhe, a solitary bone hand emerging from the hold rend in the stone. The entire party retreated when the rest of the skeleton crawled out from its grave.
"My love," the Penny cried, "Do not struggle so. These heroes have come to set you free."
The words did nothing except infuriate the skeleton, which took hold of the abandoned sword, singing it wildly at the intruders before it.
"Well, no sense in reasoning with that thing." Lyndon remarked, raising his bow to nock an arrow aimed at the skeleton's skull.
"For once, we agree." Kormac noted solemnly and, not to be outdone, promptly charged.
It was over in a matter of seconds. Eirena had barely enough time to sniffle before Kormac's blade pierced the skeleton's chest bones, followed by a well-timed arrow, which whizzed past Kormac's cheek, shattering the skeleton's skull. Friedrich Bartholomew fell back with a moan and collapsed into a disintegrating pile of bones.
"Well that was easy," Lyndon remarked.
"My thanks, heroes." Penny Bartholomew announced. "Now we may spend eternity together."
A shapeless blue light rose from the heap and drifted slowly through the air until it was beside Penny Bartholomew. It stopped, morphing into the form of a man, who turned toward Penny.
"To be freed from my torment and have my soul reunited with yours. I can't imagine a more blissful afterlife."
Lorath seemed content with the outcome and turned to resume toward their original destination. The nephalem obviously had the same thought, as they waved for the group to reconvene. Lyndon hesitated before following, casting furtive glances at the two spirits, for fear of missed treasures, while Eirena lagged behind to admire the pair.
Their love was so pure and light amid the darkness of their situation that Eirena couldn't help but marvel. She smiled, wantonly gazing at the couple. It was things like this that boosted her morale. It was the future of these beings—the humans—that their group was fighting to save. If she could ensure the wellbeing of these people, Eirena didn't mind sacrificing everything she had.
"Eirena." A hand caressed her elbow, urging her away. "It's time to go."
"Alright," the sorceress replied wistfully without looking away from the couple. "Just give me a minute—"
"Eirena." The hand was more forceful this time, its owner insistent.
"Okay, okay." Eirena sighed, tugging her arm free. "No need to be so pushy Kormac."
"I'm merely trying to ge—"
"Come on Eirena!" Lydon hollered from outside the gate, "Get your tush over here!"
Eirena turned away and begrudgingly followed the Templar to join the group. It wasn't too often that one viewed a blossom amid the battlefield, but she understood that they had to make haste or it'd all be for naught. Still, something about Penny and Friedrich had really struck a chord with her.
There was a strange sense of longing that stirred in her chest, an odd mix of excitement and dread that caused her chest to feel peculiarly tight. It was neither something she liked nor disliked. It was simply foreign. She would ask the nephalem about it later.
As she walked beneath the stone arches of the cemetery gate, Eirena turned one last time to gaze upon the couple, whose voices were now whispers in the distance.
"We will be together forever, my love," Penny Bartholomew hummed, "let us depart into the afterli—Wait. What is that!"
Each member of the entourage stood frozen as a familiar chill swept over the entire vicinity. A haunting yowl followed in its wake. Kormac turned just in time to witness the ghastly form of a Death Maiden swooping in from amid the shadows to reap the souls of Penny and Friedrich Bartholomew, spiriting the lovers away with a swoop of its scythe.
"Your 'eternity' ends now. All souls are forfeit to Malthael!"
"No!" Eirena shouted, raising her staff and dashing back to the mausoleum in a foolhardy attempt to rescue the spirits. This granted her the attention of the Death Maiden.
"Foolish mortals!" it screeched, "None shall stand in the way of Malthael!"
Raising its scythe above its head, the dark angel dove at Eirena. The Enchantress attempted to dodge but stumbled, falling to floor, eyes wide with terror as the Death Maiden neared. There would be no dodging the scythe.
"Watch out!" Kormac shouted, dashing in from Eirena's side to guard the downed sorceress. He raised his shield just moments before the Death Maiden made contact, parrying the blow with such force that the dark thing was temporarily stunned.
"Focus!" the nephalem barked. "This is no time to panic!"
Eirena scrambled to her feet, casting a wayward glance at the nephalem. A blue glow enveloped the descendent of Inarius and for a brief moment, the sorceress locked eyes with the wizard. The nephalem said nothing, but Eirena knew the meaning behind the nephalem's look.
Running to her right, Eirena stood to one side of the Death Maiden, adjacent to Lorath Nahr. Together, the three casters created a triangle around the Reaper, they began casting spells to trap the Death Maiden and render it immobile while Kormac and Lyndon engaged the angel.
"Charge!" Kormac cried, rushing the fallen angel.
"Who are you talking to?" Lyndon jibed, readying his crossbow. "We're no infantry."
"This is no time to be joking around Lyndon!" snarled the Templar as he swung his blade at the Death Maiden. The blow fell short, the Reaper dashing away adeptly, having freed itself from the spells of the mages. Kormac followed, charging it once more.
"The only joke here is your need to declare your attacks," the Scoundrel sniffed. "A true gentleman never declares his intentions."
Raising his weapon, Lyndon let loose an arrow which struck the Death Maiden squarely in the hand. It shrieked hideously and proceeded to whirl in response, swinging its scythe around in to create a deadly tornado.
Kormac ducked the first turn, avoiding a very narrow decapitation. When the Reaper twirled a second time, he was ready, blocking the steel with his own. Sparks spewed forth between the two weapons. Kormac grunted, pushing the angel back. He was lucky to be facing the tang and not the toe.
"That's enough. Get back!" the nephalem instructed, giving Kormac a second's notice before summoning the dreaded arcane rays.
The Templar jumped to the side, the arcane magic missing by just a few margins; the Death Maiden, however, was not so fortunate. Each ray that penetrated the Reaper singed with a foul acridity, penetrating its body all the way through. It screamed, writhing and flailing in an attempt to escape, but the magic had found its mark. Eventually the struggling stopped and the thing fell to the floor, unmoving.
"Well, that was more of a challenge, wasn't it!" Lyndon chuckled shortly before he found himself face up and on his back in the grime of the Briarthorn cemetery.
"Kormac, no!" Eirena yelped a moment too late. The man already had his knee planted in the Scoundrel's chest.
"You almost had me killed back there!" Kormac snarled, leaning forward to grab the thief's collar.
"A r-rudimentary mistake my friend," Lyndon gasped, the weight of the bigger man robbing the thief of any breath.
"A mistake is what your mother made when she gave birth to you!" Kormac roared. "That was no mistake!"
There was a long passing silence.
"Kormac," the nephalem ordered with dangerous calm, "get off."
Kormac flinched. There was no emotion in that voice. He obliged.
"Well," Lyndon muttered, getting to his feet, "that was quite unpleasant."
"Lyndon."
"Yes?"
"Be quiet."
"Y-Yes."