Amor Vincit Omnia

(Love Conquers All)

Part Two: The Fragile Heart

"This is the point from which I could never return
And if I back down now then forever I burn
This is the point from which I could never retreat
Cause If I turn back now there can never be peace
This is the point from which I will die and succeed
Living the struggle, I know I'm alive when I bleed
From now on, it can never be the same as before
Cause the place that I'm from doesn't exist anymore."
- Immortal Technique
"Point of no Return"

Chapter Six: Blind in the Light

The Templar shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. "Schwesterchen," he began, "I know what you must think and I can put your mind at ease. Baal is not dead."

"Then where is he?" she said.

"I don't know," Kormac admitted. "I'm truly sorry, Saiya. I wish I-"

"What happened, Kormac?" she interrupted, struggling to keep her voice calm. "I need to know."

"I'll tell you everything," he promised, "but we may want to find a spot to sit down and rest. It'll take a while …"

-Two days earlier-

Kormac sat down on the top step of the tower to catch his breath and wiped sweat from his eyes with the back of his hand. He was exhausted almost beyond the capacity for movement, and he knew that the others weren't much better off. They had reached Alcarnus at sundown, and Baal had made the tactically sound but realistically faulty decision to attack at once, while they had darkness and the element of surprise on their side, rather than wait for morning. They had been fighting for hours now, and had finally pinned the last of their enemies in the defensible tower at the top of the fort, but it had been a grueling affair that left them all ragged. Najmah had taken a spear in the side, which had fortunately done no serious damage. Eirena was bleeding heavily from a gash on her lower back, and Baal had a head wound in need of attention. The Templar himself was relatively unscathed, but he had gone down hard on his right knee at one point, and the joint felt bruised and swollen. It twinged troublingly with every step.

He wished that Saiya was with them, for several reasons. The obvious one was that her addition to the group made them that much stronger. But besides that, he was worried sick about her. She had looked so frail when they found her in the desert, and although her condition had improved by the time they left the Khasim Outpost, the healer there had told them quite firmly that it could go downhill again at any time. He didn't think he could bear it if she died without even giving him a chance to say goodbye.

An impatient sigh from Baal brought the third reason to mind. By now, Kormac was accustomed to the Hunter's bouts of moodiness, but he had been especially intolerable the last few days. Kormac's attempts to offer comfort had been rebuffed with stony silence, and any suggestion that they stop to rest or even eat was roundly criticized. Baal had pushed them mercilessly; it was run at his pace or fall behind, and Kormac was not about to have the other man's death on his conscience because he could not keep up.

"Just a minute more," he said in response to Baal's inquisitive glare. "I just need to catch my breath."

The Hunter leaned against the wall, his tapping foot acting as a constant reminder that Kormac's rest time was running out. Eirena sat down on the step beside him. The moonlight turned her skin to alabaster and her hair to pure gold; she held herself so stiffly upright and still that she might well have been a statue. She was, Kormac thought, the only beautiful thing amongst all the ugliness of this place.

"How is your back, Fraulein?" he asked quietly.

"It hurts," she replied. "How about your knee? You seem to be favoring it."

"It's nothing," he said.

The enchantress turned to look up at the massive iron door that barred their way into the topmost turret of the fort. "Maghda's in there," she whispered.

"Yes," agreed Kormac. Moved by a sudden impulse, he shyly put a hand on her shoulder and said, "Are you frightened?"

She shook her head. "You?"

He considered it. "No, I am not frightened. If I must die tonight, then at least I will die knowing that I am doing my duty as a Templar. 'Vom Hexenhammer angeklagt beginnt somit die Hexenjagd.'" *

Yes, he thought, witches have no place in this world. They are evil and they must be eliminated for the good of the population. Then he thought of Ghor and his righteous satisfaction faltered a little. She was not evil – quite the opposite, in fact. She had saved his life, despite having no reason to call him a friend. If his fellow Brothers were ever to get their hands on her, they would burn her at the stake. Could he allow that, knowing her as he did? Somehow, he didn't think so.

Baal voice startled him out of his pondering state of mind. "Come on, Kormac. We're wasting time. If we sit here much longer, the sun will be up."

With a groan, he heaved his bulk off the stair and reached down to help Eirena up as well. She thanked him with a pert smile that made his heart quiver. God help him, he had fallen under her spell as surely as those lacuni she had charmed. But he knew she could never love someone like him ... a criminal, a wretch, a penniless man twice her age with nothing to offer.

"Ready?" said Baal grimly. Kormac nodded, and the Hunter reached out to give him a brief pat on the shoulder – an unusually friendly gesture coming from him. It occurred to Kormac that this was probably as much of an apology as he would get for Baal's irascibility over the past few days. Well, he'd take it and be grateful.

The door had no obvious handles, but it opened inwards with a hearty push from Najmah. Beyond was a wide open space, dotted with pits and outbuildings and surrounded by a trench some ten feet deep and lined with spikes. A drawbridge spanned the gap, though Kormac was positive that it would be retracted as soon as they crossed over.

"Maghda!" Baal roared, his voice echoing around the enclosure. "Come out and face your doom!"

She appeared in a swirl of butterflies, looking colder than ever in the frosty light. Kormac didn't see any cultists behind her, but that didn't mean she was alone and undefended. They were just hiding, he guessed, waiting for the right moment to appear.

"So," said Maghda, "the hounds are here at last. Tell me, pet, did you come here for me, or for the little bird I have in a cage?"

Baal laughed harshly. Kormac hardly recognized him in that moment; a feral grin split his lips and his eyes blazed ruby-red in the darkness. He half looked like a demon himself.

"You're trying to buy your own safety with something you don't have to bargain with, you fool," the Hunter said, "and the price for your blunder will be death." He raised his crossbow and fired three bolts. They passed through Maghda like pebbles through water and lodged in the side of the sandstone hut behind her.

"Ha!" she exclaimed. "You'll have to do better than that, little hound. I am far more powerful than-"

The arrows exploded, splinters flying in all directions as the blast powder hidden in the shafts ignited. Maghda was enveloped in a multicolored cloud of fire, ice, and lightning that flared simultaneously and faded, leaving scars on Kormac's vision.

But Maghda was scarred as well. There was a burn upon one pale shoulder, boils marking her flawless skin. She looked down at it in horror, though she seemed more affected by the appearance than by any pain it had caused her.

"Bastard!" she hissed. "You'll pay for that. I'm done playing games!"

She raised up her hands, fingers splayed, and light leapt from her palms and shot towards them. Kormac dodged to the side, but the beams curved as well, following his movements. In the second before they hit, the air shimmered and absorbed the spell. The Templar glanced up to see Eirena, staff in hand and an expression of utmost concentration on her lovely face.

"Thank you," he gasped.

"You're welcome," she replied with a smile, before shifting her focus to Maghda. Kormac stood in front of her, blocking her from the witch's sight while she cast her magic.

Truthfully, he was at a loss as to how he should go about assailing the enemy. Obviously she could be injured, but how? Was it only the elements of nature to which she was vulnerable, or was it any attack that she couldn't see coming? Baal was still firing arrows, but now she was wise to his scheme, and moved away from them once they had landed. Some of them were explosive and others weren't, but none of them harmed her in the slightest.

Then a potential fault in her defenses occurred to him: the butterflies on her shoulders that carried her so swiftly around the battlefield. If they were to be destroyed, perhaps it would weaken Maghda to the point where his spear could inflict damage.

"Eirena," he said, "I'm going to feign a retreat and circle around the side of this building. See if you can draw her over here."

The girl nodded, and Kormac instantly put his plan into action. The next time Maghda fired off her arcane globes, he pretended to have been hit by one and staggered backwards, ducking behind the nearest hut. He heard Eirena, now left alone in a dangerous position, cry out in a good semblance of fear as the witch started towards her. Moving quickly, he ran around to the other side of the hut and appeared just behind the witch.

With a yell, he dropped his spear and tackled Maghda, bearing her to the ground. She was corporeal in his arms, proving his hypothesis that her deflection of attack was willful magic, and not automatic. As she struggled in surprise, he pinned her with a hand between her shoulderblades, grabbed the right-hand butterfly, and ripped it free.

Maghda's ear-splitting scream of agony startled him so much that he pulled his hand back, and in an instant she had transformed into a swarm of flies and disappeared. He was left with a large insect in his clenched fist, the gossamer wings twitching and the light fading from its bejeweled eyes. A large stinger on the end of its abdomen shone with beads of liquid that Kormac strongly suspected was poisonous. He dropped the thing on the ground and stepped on it to ensure that it was dead.

The witch reformed in the center of the area, between four L-shaped pits in the stone. Blood streamed down her arm, and she dangled rather lopsidedly from her remaining butterfly. Shaking with rage, she lifted her hands to the heavens and uttered a few words in a language that Kormac had never heard before. The very sound of the words chilled his heart; he instinctively knew that it was an evil tongue, used by the armies of Hell itself to communicate with one another.

It seemed then that all brightness faded from the stars, and an ill wind swept over the battleground. Kormac heard Eirena cry out, and put an arm out to shield her. As they watched in horror, a portal appeared in the air, out of which stepped four blue-skinned monstrosities, similar in appearance to ghouls but far larger and more wicked-looking. They carried heavy clubs and wore rudimentary armor.

"Scheiße," Kormac breathed. "This is not good."

A shout grabbed his attention; Baal was signaling him from across the arena. The Hunter pointed at their new adversaries, then tapped his own breast and pointed at Maghda. Kormac answered with a wave to show he understood.

"Stay behind me if you can," he cautioned Eirena, before picking up his spear and preparing to fight.

Three of them came towards him in a V formation, while the fourth split off to target Najmah, who had been hanging back on account of his injury. Kormac cursed, but he was unwilling leave Eirena defenseless, even to assist his amnesiac companion. He prayed that Najmah would be able to hold his own for as long as it took him to defeat his adversaries.

He lunged forward to meet the charge, jabbing at the foremost ghoul. It parried his spear and took a swing of its own, which Kormac was able to block. Stepping to the side, he twisted his weapon out from under his opponent's club and brought it arcing over his head to cleave through the ghoul's leather helm and into its head.

He hadn't reckoned on the skull-bone being so thick, however. The blade of his spear came to a grinding halt, and as he tried to withdraw it, the other two surged around their ally and attacked him from either side. Kormac had little choice but to take the blows: one to his right elbow, numbing his entire arm, and the other to his left side. There was an audible crack, and a sharp pain ran from his hip to his shoulder.

Broken ribs, he thought, with the enforced calm that comes with years of wartime experience. As the ghouls drew back almost simultaneously for a second strike, he wrenched the spear free and swept it in a full circle. The third ghoul saw it coming and managed to dodge, but the second had no chance. The point swiped across its throat, severing the jugular. It collapsed in a heap on the ground, looking vaguely puzzled as it groped at its neck, as if trying to figure out where all the blood was going.

Kormac took advantage of the opening his defensive move had created to impale the demon he had previously injured through the eye. That left only one – the most nimble of the three. The Templar assumed a guarded stance, circling to the left, waiting for his opponent to attack. It didn't take long, ghouls not being renowned for their patience.

The blow was aimed towards his disabled right arm (evidently this creature possessed a modicum of brains) and he jumped back rather than risk further injury to the limb. Too late, he realized that his evasive maneuver had carried him right to the edge one of of the spiked pits. He teetered dangerously on the lip, the heels of his boots hanging over empty space.

Eirena screamed his name, and some distant part of him felt warmed by the knowledge that she cared enough for him to do so, but his conscious mind was far more occupied with the imminent peril of his situation. He bent forward at the waist, windmilling his arms – and something struck him hard in the midriff, knocking him backwards. The last ghoul had rushed him. As he felt his feet leave the ground, he found that his only emotion was a deep, aching regret. He had not done enough good in life to absolve him of his sins. He would not be allowed to stand among the worthy. His soul would be cast out of the High Heavens …

Ironically, it was Maghda who saved his life. The witch was flitting around the arena in the form of the butterfly cloud, and she happened to pass by just as Kormac was falling. He was caught up in the swarm and thrown to the side, landing just clear of the hole. There were a few itching welts on his face and arms where the insects had stung him, but that was nothing compared to the fate he had narrowly escaped.

Little by little, they were wearing Maghda down. Her movements were a bit slower now, her arcane bolts packed less of a punch. A few of Baal's arrows had left grazes on her porcelain skin. Most advantageous of all, her backup had been completely obliterated. Najmah had won his fight, and Eirena dispensed with the final ghoul by casting a charm spell and causing it to plunge to its death in the very pit that nearly claimed Kormac's life.

Then, just when it seemed that their victory was ensured, the witch summoned another wave of ghouls and abruptly vanished altogether. She returned as soon as her minions had been eliminated, and in her hand was the sword that had fallen with Najmah from the heavens, now forged anew. Kormac had not yet seen it, but he was awestruck by its elegant simplicity. He would not have believed that a thing designed for killing could be so beautiful. It looked wrong in Maghda's hands: a profanity, a sacrilege.

Baal raised his crossbow to fire a bolt, and the witch swung the sword. She was well out of range – ten feet away, at least – but the Hunter gasped and stumbled back, a rent appearing in his vest. Crimson liquid splattered onto the stone.

Maghda let out a horrid cackle of joy and amazement. "So the legends were true," she murmured, staring at the blade in her hands. "This power flowing through me … is this how the angels feel? With a weapon like this, I could lay waste to the High Heavens and topple the Silver Spire!"

She sliced the air once more, and Baal went down on one knee. Turning, she stabbed towards Kormac. He ducked, feeling the invisible aura of the blade scrape along his neck, rather than passing through his heart as the witch had intended. A warm rush of blood soaked his shoulder.

We're finished, he thought grimly, clapping a hand over the wound. If we're careful we may be able to draw it out a bit longer, but the end is inevitable. We're going to die here. The knowledge that least Saiya would survive comforted him a little, though he quickly remembered that that was in no way guaranteed. If the other members of the group had only come with them – if Caesar and Ghor were here, rather than playing ambassadors to a child – perhaps the outcome of this battle would have been different.

"MAGHDA!" A voice like thunder broke the night, rolling in waves across the battlefield. It was deeper than the deepest depths of the ocean, older than the oldest bones of the mountain, wiser than all the wisdom ever recorded by the hand of man. But when Kormac looked around in bewilderment for the source of it, he saw only Najmah, standing very tall and straight with his hand outstretched.

"Maghda," he repeated, "the sword will not serve you. Lay it down now, while you still can, and surrender yourself to our mercy. Your death shall be swift and painless."

"Don't promise her that," snarled Baal. "You didn't see what she did to Saiya. I'm going to kill her in the most brutal way possible."

"Quiet, you worm!" shrieked the witch. She thrust with the sword, and Baal cursed and clutched at his shoulder. Blood dripped from between his fingers, adding to the growing pool on the ground. He glared at her with hate-filled eyes, his hair hanging lankly over his face and his breath coming in gasps.

"Enough," said Najmah, with finality. He began to walk towards Maghda, his stride purposeful and even. Kormac could only watch, spellbound, as the witch lashed out.

The laughter froze in her throat, however, as Najmah lifted his arm, his open palm facing her. The sword's energy shattered as if it had struck a shield, falling in bright pieces like broken glass. Again and again she swung at him, her movements growing more frantic, but he waved each one away until at last he was close enough for his massive hand to close upon her wrist. Deftly he plucked the sword from her faltering grasp, and an odd but somehow suitable comparison leaped to Kormac's mind, of a stern but loving father chastising his disobedient daughter.

Maghda sneered at him. "I know who you are, Tyrael," she said, "and I am not afraid. Judge me as you will, but know that I will serve my master more in death than I did even in life."

"No," said Najmah, "you won't."

The blade flashed in a clean, powerful cut. A red line sprouted on Maghda's skin, bisecting her face and running all the way down her chest and stomach. She fell backwards, splitting in two upon impact. There was no mess; the wounds had cauterized instantly. Kormac stared, unable to believe his eyes. He kept expecting Maghda to vanish, to scatter into butterflies and reform elsewhere, taunting them, but she did not. There was a small object, like a stained glass orb, lying on the ground by her ruined body. Najmah bent to pick it up, looking at it curiously.

"What is that?" Kormac asked, stepping closer to catch a glimpse of it. Colored lights swirled within, sparking every now and then.

"It's Maghda's soul," the giant replied. "So it shall be trapped for all time, tormented and powerless." He slipped the orb into his pocket and leaned heavily on the sword, suddenly looking very ancient indeed.

Baal lurched to his feet. Stumbling like a drunk, he made his way over to the witch's corpse and stood there for a moment, staring blankly, before he spat on it. He wiped his mouth, leaving a trail of blood across his cheek.

"Where is your master Belial now?" he rasped. "He didn't save you, did he? No, he fucking didn't. Fuck you, Maghda. This death was too good for the likes of you."

Eirena was looking at Najmah with a strange expression on her face. "She called you Tyrael," she said.

"Is that your real name?" Kormac asked eagerly.

He nodded. "Yes. I remember everything now. As soon as I saw El'druin made whole again, it all came back to me."

"Tyrael is the Archangel of Justice," Eirena murmured. Unexpectedly, she got stiffly down on one knee with her hands clasped over her heart. "My lord," she said. "I am not worthy to stand before you."

Tyrael stepped forward and placed a finger below her chin, tilting her head up. He said, "Child, pay no obeisance to me. I am as mortal as you, now. I renounced my brothers and shed my wings, and as a result I fell from the High Heavens."

"But why?" asked the enchantress. "Why give up your immortality, your power, your seat on the Angiris Council?"

"It is a long story, spanning many thousands of years," he replied with a sigh. "Suffice it to say that I saw the coming storm and did not agree with the rest of my brethren that humanity should be left to face it alone. And so I chose to fall, to ally myself with mankind in defiance of Imperius. There were others among the angelic host who felt as I did, but they were too afraid to give up their wings. They were afraid to age, to fall ill, to die. Afraid to become … human."

There were tears in Eirena's eyes now, and she gazed at the former angel unblinkingly, but with such poignant sorrow in her face that Kormac's heart ached to see it.

"Who are we," she whispered, "to deserve such a sacrifice?"

A smile lit Tyrael's face. "You are the future," he said.

-Present day-

"That's an amazing story," said Saiya, once Kormac had finished telling it (though he kept certain personal details to himself), "but it doesn't explain why Baal isn't with you."

The Templar looked down at his knees. "Ah. Right. I was just getting to that …"

"We don't know where he is, Saiya," Eirena said, bluntly but not without compassion. "After we verified that there were no cultists left alive, we were all so exhausted that we just laid out our bedrolls and slept through the day. When we awoke, Baal was gone. He took his pack with him, and he didn't leave a note or anything to explain. We looked everywhere. Kormac thought that perhaps he had just decided to get a head start in returning to the Khasim Outpost, so we came back as well."

"I'm so sorry, Schwesterchen," Kormac added, putting a brotherly hand on her arm. "If I had known he was planning to do this, I would have tried to stop him."

Saiya shook her head. "Thanks, Kormac, but no one can stop Baal once he's made up his mind. I just wish I understood why. Are you sure he didn't say anything that might shed some light on what he was thinking?"

"It's not what he said," Kormac mused, "so much as what he didn't say. I don't think he uttered so much as three words – to any of us – after the battle. He just crawled off to a corner to lick his wounds and brood a bit. You know how he gets. He didn't seem at all pleased that Maghda was dead … or at least, with the way she had died. I think he wanted to drag it out awhile, make her regret her wrongdoings. He felt that Tyrael showed too much mercy in ending it so quick."

"I do not believe in delaying an execution," the angel declared. "Once the sentence has been proclaimed, judgment be swift and righteous."

"I agree," said Saiya, "though I understand why Baal didn't like it. With people like Maghda, you feel as though they really ought to suffer. But I doubt that dissatisfaction alone would cause him to leave. There must be another reason." What hurt the most, she realized, was that he had not even come back to see her. For all he knew, she could have died of her injuries. Was he really okay with not knowing?

"Perhaps he'll return," Kormac said hopefully. "He has before."

"No," she said, "I'm going to go and find him."

"But … how, Schwesterchen? You don't know where he is, he could be anywhere."

"I'll manage." She picked up her pack, which her friends had recovered from Alcarnus. "I might be a few days, though. You can wait for me at the Outpost, if you like, or head back to Caldeum. Your choice."

The Templar was beginning to look thoroughly alarmed. "Now hang on, Saiya," he began. "I'm not about to let you go gallivanting off as well. If you must search for Baal, at least let me accompany you."

But Saiya was equally determined to go solo, and at last, with much grumbling and entreaties to be careful, Kormac was persuaded. He embraced her very tightly and gave her an awkward kiss on the cheek, which she returned. Eirena offered a hug as well, whispering in her ear, "Don't worry too much. I have faith that you'll find him."

"Thank you," Saiya said. "Goodbye, Eirena. Goodbye, Kormac. I'll see you soon. Goodbye, Tyrael. Do I call you Tyrael now? It seems so strange; I've known you as Najmah for so long."

"You may call me whatever you wish, dear child," he answered. "Najmah is as good a name as any. I am not quite Tyrael any longer. That name belonged to a different being."

"But you're not quite Najmah either," said Saiya. "You seem much wiser now, and there's a different look in your eye. I think I will stick with Tyrael, if you don't mind."

"Of course not." He smiled, and it was like the sun breaking through the clouds of her psyche. "Take care of yourself, Saiya."

"You too, all of you. And please don't worry about me. I'll see you soon, hopefully with Baal in tow."

On the road to Alcarnus, she looked back once or twice to see a flash of light in the distance that might have been Kormac watching her through a telescope. She half regretted turning down his offer to help her search, if only because she was lonely, but she wanted to be alone when she found her lover – just as much for Baal's sake as for her own. Certainly she had things to say to him that were for his ears only, but she was also sure that whatever had driven him away from the rest of the group was intensely private. She had an idea, a yet nothing more than a foggy intuition, but it was the best she could think of.

Once Saiya was positive that no one was watching, she sat down and opened her pack, taking a moment to verify that none of her belongings were missing. She let out a sigh of relief when her fingers brushed up against the cloth shroud that protected Leena's mirror. Removing it, she unwrapped the precious object and bent over it, removing the sun's glare from the surface with her shadow. The clear glass clouded as if with breath, but she had not exhaled.

"Come on, Baal," she whispered. "Please don't hide yourself from me. I love you, and I can help you if you let me."

Gradually, a picture unfolded in the mirror. An abandoned town. A sign post in Kehjistani. Though she could not read the beautifully curling script, she recognized the arrangement from the map she had looked at. It was a town not too far to the north, midway between Khasim and Alcarnus.

"Is that where you are, Baal?" she said. In response to her words, the mirror rippled and another image revealed itself. A skeletal house, burnt and decaying, isolated from the rest of the village. And pacing back and forth before it, looking immensely troubled, was her Hunter. As Saiya watched, he bent down to pick up a blackened brick, stared at it for some moments, and suddenly, violently, hurled it away. Then he fell to his knees, covering his face with his hands, and his shoulders shook.

Deciding that she'd seen enough, Saiya replaced the mirror and got to her feet. She was grateful now, more than ever, for the head monk's wilderness survival lessons, which had included among others things how to tell directions without a compass. Finding a nearby bush, she marked the furthest tip of its shadow with a pebble, waited ten minutes to allow time for the shadow to move, and marked it again. Then she scored a line in the sand between the two stones, which she knew would lead from west to east. By sketching in the rest of the makeshift compass, she was able to determine which way was north, and started off accordingly.

Fortunately, before she had gone more than a couple miles, she ran across the traces of a path that seemed to follow her course. Saiya was even more excited to discover subtle signs that someone had passed by that way not too long ago: a footprint here and there, a place where a pack had been set down and bandages changed. The real find was a few threads of black fabric caught on a thorny shrub. She was on the right trail.

Soon the young monk began to feel the tug of hunger in her gut, which warred against her eagerness to find her missing lover. She settled for eating as she walked, munching a few hardtack biscuits and a strip of goat jerky. The water left in her bottle was warm, and had a stale, coppery taste, but she drank it anyway.

Apparently the distance from the main road to the village was a lot further in reality than it had seemed on the map. As the day wore on, Saiya began to wonder if she had somehow missed a crucial turnoff and walked right by it. But then she would find another boot track in the sand, another few scattered drops of dried blood. She kept walking.

Then at last she saw, far in the distance, a black patch on the horizon. It didn't look like much, a shadow almost, but as she drew closer she could see roof beams framed against the sky. She had found it at last.

Without warning, the ground beneath her feet gave way, tipping her backwards. Saiya looked down between her legs and saw a cone-shaped hole forming, as if the sand was draining down through the bedrock. Then, between the swiftly falling grains, an unmistakable flash of eyes.

Only quick reflexes saved her life. She rolled to the side just as the surface of the desert exploded in a geyser of sand. A terrifying creature emerged: first the triangular head with its heavy, brutal jaws meant for rending flesh and crushing bones; then two sets of legs joined to a scaly golden torso with a spiked spine; and finally the tail, longer than Saiya was tall and capped with wicked spines. The beast started forward – waddling and ungainly now that it was above ground, like a duck on land – and Saiya flew to her feet and ran.

She had no idea if the thing was following her, but she wasn't about to stop and look. Reasoning that she would be safer on solid ground, she headed for an outcropping of rock about a hundred yards from the ruined village and scrambled up it, wincing as the rough surface cut into her palms. Turning, her eyes picked out a black spike, like a shark's dorsal fin, cutting through the sand. It stopped at the base of the rock and began to circle. Saiya had the chilling thought that if it was still, she would have mistaken it for a peculiarly shaped rock.

Well, crap, she thought disgustedly. I'm in a real pickle, aren't I? Treed like a cat chased by hounds. The moment I set foot off this rock, that thing will gobble me up.

There was only one thing she could do. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she shouted, "Hey, Baal! Baal, are you there? It's me, Saiya! Don't come out – just yell if you can hear me. There's something in the sand out here!"

A few agonizing moments of silence passed by. Then there was a flash of movement from inside one of the houses, and Baal's voice rang out clearly.

"Stay where you are, Saiya. That's a Dune Thresher, it can't get you if you're up there."

"I know that!" she screamed. "What do I do about it? I don't think it wants to leave."

There was a long pause, and then he called, "You're going to have to lure it out so I can snipe it. Be careful, though. Don't take unnecessary risks. I'll signal you when I'm in position."

Another few minutes went by before a shrill whistle pierced the air. Saiya, assuming that it was the signal in question, began to edge down the rock outcrop, keeping a wary eye on the dorsal spike marauding to and fro. No sooner had she set foot on the ground than it changed course, homing in on the vibrations of her footstep. It picked up speed, furrowing the sand like the prow of a ship slicing the ocean. Saiya waited until the last second to pull back, and gasped involuntarily as the great predator's bulk effortlessly broke the surface of the desert, lunging upwards toward her. She had underestimated its power; the steel-trap jaws closed centimeters from her right foot. The young monk stared into its eyes for a brief instant – bright yellow orbs, ridiculously tiny in the large face, with pinprick pupils – and then the Dune Thresher shuddered as Baal's arrows found their mark in the vulnerable spot under its jaw, where rock-hard scales gave way to soft, cream-colored skin. A burst of blood, a spasm of limbs and flailing tail, a growl like metal scraping over stone, and the beast was dead.

Saiya stepped past the bulky corpse and jogged towards the village. Baal appeared in a doorway and stood with his arms crossed, watching her approach. There was a crimson-spotted bandage bound about his head; locks of dark hair stuck out between the white strips. Contrary to her fantasies, he did not run to meet her with open arms. In fact, he did not look particularly pleased to see her at all, and Saiya's heart dropped into her stomach, but she strode forward with her chin up and a calm mask firmly in place.

"Hey," she said.

Baal sighed. "What are you doing here, Saiya?" he asked, voice flat.

Well. Not exactly the reception she would have wished for. But here he was, standing in front of her in the flesh … wounded, yes, unsociable, for sure – but alive. Saiya reminded herself of her priorities and mustered a smile.

"Looking for you, obviously. I was kind of worried, you know, when they came back without you."

He averted his eyes. "Sorry."

"Were you ever going to come back?" she inquired bluntly.

"Yes, of course I-"

"Because I believe we've already had a conversation about not running off and leaving notes, but it doesn't seem to have sunk in."

"Saiya, I-"

"I understand that sometimes you need to be alone, Baal. We all do. But for Ytar's sake, can't you – just for once in your life – tell someone where you're going and when you'll be back so we aren't all left hanging, wondering if we'll ever see you again?"

Silence, awkward and fraught with tense glances. Then Baal said, "Can I speak now?"

Saiya gestured for him to go ahead.

"I didn't mean to stay away for this long," he mumbled. "I had intended to catch up with the others before they reached the Outpost. But I … I couldn't …"

It was then that she noticed how reddened his eyes were, as if he had been weeping for hours. Feeling guilty now for taking him to task, she put out a hand in a conciliatory gesture. He took it, clutching her fingers in an achingly firm grip.

"What is this place?" she asked.

"Müqeddes'das," Baal replied. "Or in your language, Holy Rock. I was born here."

Like the last gear needed to make a machine run smoothly, everything fell into place. Saiya marveled at her own stupidity in not seeing it earlier. She had thought he was trying to get away from her, but she couldn't have been more wrong.

"Oh, gods," she whispered, "I had no idea. Do you … want me to go away?"

"No!" His response was immediate; his hand tightened on hers. More gently, he added, "No, now that you're here, you might as well stay. I've delayed far too long in telling you my personal history, but I think I'm finally ready for you to know."

He led her up the slope of a nearby dune to a patch of ground where a dead tree clung to the hard soil, ringed by grey stones that stood about two feet tall. It wasn't until she saw the writing on them that Saiya realized they were grave markers. Baal spoke each engraved name as he ran his fingers over the lettering.

"Luna. My sister. Shadi and Salim. My brothers. Saif. The man I called 'father'. Kalila. My mother. Everyone I could call family is buried right here."

He stopped then, and it was several minutes before he could speak again. Saiya let him be, tenderly rubbing his back and waiting for him to get his emotions under control. She had known, intellectually, that he had lost loved ones, but cold knowledge was far removed from standing before their graves, hearing their names and seeing the raw sorrow in his face that the years had merely veiled, and never dulled. An overwhelming wave of empathy brought tears to her own eyes, but she held them in check. This moment was about his pain, not her reaction to it.

"I was eight years old when it happened," Baal said abruptly. "It was a perfectly normal day, like any other day of my life. Fa- … Saif was out in the fields, and my older brother Shadi was with him. Ana – Mother – was … was in the kitchen, preparing lunch with Lu-lu pretending to help. Actually, she just made terrible messes, but she was only four and it made her so proud to say she had helped. Salim was following me around, trying to convince me not to play a prank on Saif. Believe it or not, I was a real mischief-maker as a kid. Anyway, I had just learned how to use a sling, and I decided to use it to cast pebbles into the freshly tilled soil. Saif was very meticulous, and I knew he would go over the rows twice to make sure he hadn't missed any stones. I thought it would be funny to see him so confused over all the pebbles that had mysteriously appeared behind him."

There was so much bitterness in his voice that Saiya couldn't keep quiet. She said, "You were just a child. I did plenty of things like that when I was growing up. It's only natural."

Baal shrugged. "Many things that are 'natural' are also wrong." He stared out across the desert, and Saiya had the suspicion that he was not seeing the sand and sky of the present, but rather the fateful day sixteen years ago when his life had irrevocably changed.

"They came out of nowhere," he said. "An army of ghouls, and at their head, the demon Baalzibal, son of the Prime Evil Tor'Baalos and the general of his military. From here, I watched them sweep over the village like a plague, killing and burning as they pleased. Salim was pulling on my arm and begging me to run away, but I was too scared to move.

"Then Saif came running up out of nowhere, with Luna in his arms and Shadi behind him. He was bleeding everywhere – there were claw marks across his face and one of his eyes was missing. He told us to come with him. I asked where ana was, and he said that … she was dead. Our house had been one of the first set aflame, and a beam had fallen on her. Saif tried to get her out, but it was too late, and he had to leave her there, trapped and dying, so he could save my sister.

"After that, my memory is a little disjointed. We were running, fleeing with the other villagers who had made it out on time, and there were demons everywhere. I got separated from Salim. Suddenly I came face to face with him … with Baalzibal. He laughed at me and said, 'Now you will die, wretched abomination.' Then he raised his arm to strike me, but someone pushed me out of the way. I stumbled sideways and fell into the village well. Shadi fell after me; it was he who had saved my life, but at the cost of his own. Before he died, though, he said a few words to me as I held his head above the water. He told me that he was sorry for bullying me all my life, that now he knew it was wrong of him, and that … Saif had loved all of us equally. I've been puzzling over his final statement ever since, but I think I finally understand. He knew that I was not Saif's son, and he was jealous of the way his father treated me as though I was his own. But he died to save me anyway, because he was brave, and he considered it his duty.

"I stayed in that well for hours, clinging to the bucket with my brother's corpse beside me, until the demons were gone and the survivors discovered me and hauled me out. It was then that I learned that Saif and Luna had been killed, and Salim was missing, having fled into the desert. His body was found a few days later … what was left of it, at least. No one told me about that, though. They lied and said that he was still alive, and that he would come back when he was able to. I guess they figured that I'd been through enough and didn't need to know that I had no one left at all."

Saiya recalled his strong negative reaction when Aidel had avoided telling Rosylea the truth about her mother's death. It all made perfect sense now.

"I didn't stay here for long after that," the Hunter continued. "I had no other relatives that I or anyone else knew of. Several people tried to take me in, but they always ended up getting rid of me after a month or so because I had terrible nightmares and kept them awake with screaming. I became a burden to the villagers – something no one could really feel affection for, but felt obligated to feed and clothe.

"Then one night I overheard my current caretakers talking about me, and one of them mentioned that Salim was dead. Being lied to on top of everything else was more than I could stand, so I ran away. I probably would have perished in the desert, but a merchant caravan going from Alcarnus to Caldeum picked me up. I spent the next four years living on the streets of the capitol, learning to fend for myself. I did odd jobs – cleaned gutters, carried messages, polished armor for the soldiers – and picked pockets to keep from starving. I was twelve years old when a Demon Hunter passed through, preparing for an expedition deep into the desert. He hired me to take care of his horse and gear, and after hearing my story, he offered to take me back to the Order's base in the Outlands and teach me everything he knew. The rest you know."

Baal had not looked at her since he began talking, but now he glanced up and met her eyes. Saiya had never seen him so broken and vulnerable, his heart laid bare before her, and she was so filled with love and grief for him that she could hardly speak. She put her hands on either side of his face and pulled his head down to her shoulder, cradling it closely.

"Oh, darling," she murmured. "I am so, so sorry."

There was nothing more she could say to ease his torment, so she simply held him and let him cry, as he had done for her when Rumford was killed. She stroked his hair, and kissed his temple, and made little reassuring sounds to let him know he was not alone any more.

At last he said, "It'll be dark soon. We should start heading back to Khasim."

"Are you coming with me, then?" she asked.

"Of course I am."

"Don't you think we should camp for the night?" Saiya suggested cautiously. "We've still got most of a day's walk ahead of us."

"I don't want to sleep here," Baal said. "Let's go a mile or two away, at least. Wait here, I'll just grab my things."

After he'd gone, Saiya knelt on the hard-packed dirt and offered a brief prayer to the gods for the souls of her lover's slain family. Afterwards, she looked up at the paling sky and said, "I wish that I'd had a chance to meet all of you. If you were anything like your son and brother, then you must have been wonderful people. I know he's had a hard life, but I love him and I'm going to keep him safe and make him happy as best I can. I promise."

Though there was no life in the tree's twisted branches, the scent of blossoms wafted through the air, a glorious reminder that life always continues, no matter the hardship and despair. Saiya recalled the scripture read by the priest at the mass funeral in Wortham: 'But blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. The Lord does not abandon anyone forever. Though he brings grief, he also shows compassion. He will wipe all the tears from our eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or weeping or pain. For after every storm, the clouds part and the sun returns. After every winter, the snow melts and flowers bloom again. And for every life that is lost, a new soul will enter the world. Thus the circle continues, eternal.' She did not believe, as the Church did, in a single creator, but the message in the holy text was true whether you worshiped one god or many.

Life will go on.

So, Baal's childhood comes to light at last! I've been planning this moment for ages, so I'd love to know what you all think! Did I overdo the tragedy of it? Get it just right?

This was a quick update for me. Don't expect the next one to be so speedy; I already had the first couple pages of this chapter done, because I was planning to include them in the last chapter. I'll try, though. As always, my undying gratitude goes out to everyone who reviewed. I love you all! (And especially you, Leena! Thanks for the translating help again!)

* Kormac's quote is from the E Nomine song Hexenjagd. It translates to: "The Hexenhammer has accused you, therefore the witch hunt shall begin." The Hexenhammer, also known as the Malleus Malificarum, is a 15th century treatise on the prosecution of witches written by Heinrich Kramer. It seemed like something that the Templar Order from Diablo would take a guidebook to witch-hunting.