If you'd like to see sketches, ideas, chapter notifications, or if you have a question for me or for a character, check the Tumblr blog out here!

diablo-that-first-spark_._tumblr_._com

IMPORTANT NOTICE: once Act III is finished, I am planning to move the TFS blog away from Tumblr entirely. Keep an eye out for updates about that on the tumblr blog!


Chapter 73

The next three days were spent in preparations, and mostly waiting around for the pieces to come together. Lorath and Zayl were busy contacting the rest of the Horadrim through magical and traditional means, and Lyndon could do little to help them out, except fetching messengers in town for the various summoning letters. In this time, Quiet did not leave his side, no matter how slow or mundane the day was. If Lyndon wasn't holding his hand for whatever reason, the child would absentmindedly hold onto the long coat, as if afraid his father could blink out of existence at any given moment. Lyndon himself felt more at ease that the little angel was with him at all times, but he knew eventually he would have to make sure Quiet became independent again to some level.

Tyrael remained in the hospital for the time being. Sophie was watching over him, making sure he slowly regained some of his weight and strength, and she also managed to get a hold of a mind-healer elderly lady, Edith, from the nearby villages. Unlike other healers, her specialty was the sickness connected to the mind, one that caused great calamity in a person. Supposedly she knew how to get rid of, or at least greatly weaken the hold of that sickness, although how, Lyndon couldn't fathom. But Sophie swore by the woman, and he trusted her judgement, if nothing else. That nurse was always absolutely on top of everything, which was commendable. Guys like Tyrael needed such a supporting presence in their lives.

Lorath and Zayl finally visited Tyrael in the hospital and they obviously did not like what they saw. They came back rather concerned, stricken by what little their leader managed to tell them.

- Eirena, she was… that little blonde girl, right? The bubbly mage, always so upbeat? – Lorath asked Lyndon worriedly.

- Yeah, yeah she was – Lyndon nodded solemnly. – Johanna turned her and Kormac against us. She had been hunting Quiet and Tyrael throughout the journey.

- I'm… still, I am sorry.

- Thanks. Me too.

- That's not… that's not Tyrael's style, to just lose control like that.

- Believe me, the shit they had been through… it was enough to bring him to a snapping point – Lyndon cut the discussion short.

He did not want to talk about Eirena. He knew he eventually had to, and in front of an audience, no less. He understood Tyrael carried the much larger burden in this instance, and Lyndon had a suspicion he would need to take over that part of the eventual retelling of events from him. And by the gods, he would if he had to. Just… not right now.

He himself needed to process the loss yet.

That process was helped somewhat by Quiet himself. On the third day, on their way back to the mansion after yet another round of messenger-hunting in the city, Quiet began asking Lyndon how Eirena and Myriam looked like exactly. He had seen Eirena only once, and that was at night, at the hazy light of some spells, and he mostly met Myriam in the middle of the biggest mayhems, so he needed clearer descriptions.

- Why do you want to know, firefly? – Lyndon asked after his descriptions, as they entered the mansion.

- I thought I would make… uhm… small statues? To remember them? Like all those stone slabs in those ugly gardens, but I don't like them, they are ugly, I want to make statues – Quiet explained, already lost in thought over his project.

Lyndon was surprised by the idea, but he quickly got on board. They went out to the large courtyard of the mansion, where the statue of Tyrael's angelic form still towered over the well in the far end. In one corner there were a handful of training dummies propped up on sticks or just lying on the ground. Used shields, half-finished magical circle scribbles on the ground, or parchments signaled the designated training corner of the Horadrim. The rest of the courtyard was just a mishmash of half-finished cobblestone paths and patches of grass, it was woefully devoid of any luxury or decoration. Whoever had been the former owner of this mansion, clearly had no sense for elegance, or did not have enough money. At least now that meant it was a free playground for Quiet to mess around in.

The two of them walked up to the left side of the Tyrael statue. Quiet looked around, trying to find the best spot.

- I think this is good. This is good, right? – he looked up at Lyndon.

- Well, how big you want those statues?

- Big like you. I think…

- I think then this is a good spot. They won't be obstacles here.

Quiet let go of his hand and crouched down, placing his palms on the ground. A meter in front of them the ground rose up in a spot like a short pillar and began twisting itself into a new shape and material. First, a wider base appeared, then atop of it a four-legged shape took the spot. In a few moments, Ashava was standing on the pedestal, maw open wide, one foreleg raised in a striking pose, her massive digging claws and her arm sickle flared out. She looked simplistic but fully recognizable, her proportions aren't perfect but not disturbingly bad either. It all showed how Quiet saw Ashava, what parts of her appearance he thought were most important.

Lyndon picked up on the new presence a moment before it spoke up:

- That is a demon, I see.

Quiet jumped from surprise, spinning around on his heels:

- Stop skerring me, weird man!

- You really need to learn how not to sneak up on people, Zayl – Lyndon grimaced at the man behind them.

Lyndon personally was getting used to the necromancer's quirks, but he also actively trained his senses to detect the ghastly aura better. There were still some ways to go in that regard. Beyond the complete hopelessness in social interactions, Zayl was actually an alright company. He was silent and attentive, but he wasn't very grumpy or subtly hostile like most other necromancers. His history of teaming up with all kinds of people was clearly showing.

- My apologies. I was just curious of the magic displayed here – Zayl ever so slightly nodded.

- That's some fancy-pancy spell right there, fellas! – Humbart exclaimed from the necromancer's hands.

-… Thanks? – Quiet tilted his head to the side in confusion.

Thankfully he was getting used to the talking skull, after that initial and massive scare a few days ago.

- Is it angelic magic? This… sculpting – Zayl pried.

- No, it's my magic! – the child stated with conviction.

- It's a unique strand – Lyndon added.

- Most interesting.

- Oh you haven't seen anything yet, Zayl.

The necromancer looked over the statue once more.

- Why a demon, though? – he finally asked.

- She is Ashava! – Quiet announced seriously, pointing at his work.

To his words, the name of the demoness appeared etched into the pedestal.

- And she was a very good friend. She was big and very strong and said a lot of confusing things, but she was very clever and kind and she kept us safe. She is not bad.

- Honestly, traveling with her had been quite the nice experience – Lyndon added, slightly smiling. – She was surprisingly wise and calm. You would never guess just by looking at her.

-… This will be quite the tale, I reckon – Zayl said after a small pause.

- Better buckle up for it – Lyndon nodded.

The necromancer retreated inside, and Quiet could continue his artwork. He slowly created the statues of Myriam and Eirena, and with the help of Lyndon, he refined their forms until they looked the part. Eirena held her staff high with one hand, her other arm held to the side, and her left feet was raised from the ground. She lent to the right a bit as if she was dancing, and she was smiling widely under her crown of an absolute mess of a hair. Myriam stood steady on her pedestal, her hands on her hips, looking over the courtyard with an almost knowing smile. Looking at the statues, Lyndon could feel his throat seizing up. There they were, slightly simple, slightly disproportionate, but it was them. And gods help him, he missed them so much.

- 'M sorry, papa – Quiet pressed close to him.

- No-no, it is alright, firefly – Lyndon quickly wiped his tears, hugging the kid's shoulder with one arm. – You know, Quiet… be-before I got to know Myriam and Eirena and the others, I… I never had a group or a family. I had been a part of a… of a gang of thieves and robbers for a while, but none of them were friends, we couldn't trust each other. I had my older brother but we were… at odds, sometimes, even though we loved each other. He had his own life, I had mine. It was only when I met… Johanna and her team, when I finally had people close to me.

- And now Johhana is bad… And they are dead – Quiet mumbled, crestfallen. – It is very sad.

- It is…

They stood in front of the statues in silence, both lost in thought. Lyndon had never quite… allowed himself to really think about the situation, but it appeared, it was finally time. Johanna's strange, colorful team really had been the first real group he had ever been a part of. A collection of brave idiots who run into battle without question – by all accounts, Lyndon should not have been able to fit in, let alone stick around for as long as he had done and go toe to toe with monsters of legend. Johanna had been an inspiration once, even for his lost and rotten soul. And the rest of the gang… they all somehow made it work. Hells, Lyndon even grew to like each of them just the way they were. Granted, he and Kormac had been the most distant, but even the ex-Templar had his moments and role in the team. For the first time in the scoundrel's life, he'd felt like there was a place, a collection of people he could fall back onto when the going would get though. Despite all the insane dangers they had faced together, he'd felt stable and sure of his path forward.

And then Lilith took that all away, even before Lyndon had ever come into contact with Inarius. She would pay dearly for that, the scoundrel swore silently. It was high time to finally remove this abusing bitch from the history of Sanctuary for good. And he would offer that deed up to his fallen friends.

- What was your older brother like? – Quiet suddenly spoke up. – Can I make a statue of him too?

Lyndon was taken aback by the question. Gods help him, he had tried to avoid thinking about Edlin, Maya and Eric even more so than his former team. He suddenly felt like he was being smothered by the presence of all the dead in his life, but he pushed the notion aside. It helped that he was honestly touched by Quiet's concern.

In a few minutes, a fourth artwork joined the row: Edlin stood there, straight and proud like a true city guard, his hands on the shoulders of Maya and Eric who smiled at whoever would come visit them. Edlin's face had a striking resemblance to Lyndon's, although he had a stronger jawline, a straighter nose and short hair.

And he had his life together so much more than I ever could, Lyndon thought.

- Why are his children dead? – Quiet asked in a small voice, running his finger across Eric's face. – They look so young!

- Their—a very evil and mad woman had killed all three of them. Because she was angry her life wasn't like what she wanted – Lyndon said softly.

He realized he would never ever utter Rea's name ever again, or acknowledge her role in the family. She didn't deserve it.

- It's not fair – Quiet sniffled.

- Not, it isn't.

- Did… did you kill the bad lady, papa?

- I did. She had killed a lot of people, not just my family. I don't know if you remember… but it happened in that big house you had found me in. Back in that city where everyone was always angry. At least now she cannot hurt anyone else.

- I think I remember – Quiet nodded, a bit unsure. – I was happy I found you.

- And I was happy I still had you – Lyndon pulled Quiet to his side by his shoulder.

After that, he was just looking at all the statues. Everyone he had lost. He felt responsible for all of them, even if some very small part of him tried to remind him that it hadn't been up to him in most cases.

- You know, Quiet – he spoke up again after what felt like hours of silence. – We humans don't live forever. You will, the demons and angels will, but we won't.

Quiet looked up at him with tearful eyes. Lyndon bittersweetly smiled down at him:

- I'm telling you so you know. Even if there is no danger out there, we simply grow old and die eventually. This is why it is very important that we cherish the time we spend with others, and to work towards a big dream or a big goal, if we have one.

- I don't want anyone to die…

- Nobody does. We would like to live forever, firefly. But that is not our fate in this world. One day, I won't be here either.

Quiet tightly hugged his torso at this, and Lyndon returned the gesture.

- I need you to promise me you will continue to be good and clever. Help other people wherever you can. Make many many new friends.

- B-but I don't want you to go! I don't want to say more goodbyes!

Lyndon gently hauled Quiet up into his arms. The little angel was rather tall now, but the scoundrel could still manage to hold him. Gone were days of being able to cuddle the little bundle of light with ease. Lyndon felt sad at the thought, but he was also happy his firefly was growing up. He wondered if Quiet would stay human-sized or become as tall as most angels.

- Quiet, remember what I told you about the world before we got separated? – he gently rocked his son to calm him down.

-… It's not about what we want – Quiet mumbled in utter defeat, resting his cheek on Lyndon's shoulder, his face turned away.

- Yes, exactly. It is not a nice thing but this is how the world works, so we must accept it and do what we can to be happy regardless.

- It sucks.

- Yeah, it does – Lyndon couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped him. – But the really clever people can make the most of it and be happy. I want you to be among those people when you grow up. Can you promise me?

Quiet didn't answer for long, but eventually he turned his head around and pressed his invisible but warm face against Lyndon's neck and cheek.

- I promiss – he sniffled.

- That's all I need. I am proud of you, Quiet – Lyndon kissed him on the forehead.

He readjusted his hold on the child. After one last glance at the statues, they slowly strolled back inside.

oooOOOooo

Tyrael had futilely hoped his return to his home would be peaceful.

The mortal angel felt exhausted beyond anything he had ever experienced before, and he had spent days in bed without doing much physical work besides walking around occasionally. Instead it was his emotions and thoughts that absolutely tore him to shreds, making him slow, silent and completely useless, he felt like. The elderly lady, Edith was a very kind and sweet woman, but their talks so far did nothing but cause distress in him – although she did tell him it was a necessary step on the road of recovery. A bit like clearing the wound with medicine, she told him – it stung like hell in the beginning, but after that the injury could heal without issue. She had Tyrael recount the travels in broad detail, but focused far more on what those events made him feel, rather than what those events were. Tyrael often found himself broken with sobs, sometimes angry, bitter, disappointed, hopeless…

"No feeling is irrelevant in this world of Sanctuary. Do you regret it?"

And Anu help him, he missed his wings and full power. He did regret sometimes shedding them, even though he also knew deep down that had been the only way to help Sanctuary. Still, it had been a terrible price and Tyrael finally admitted to himself he wasn't fully at peace with paying it. Even though some small semblance of his former magic appeared to be returning, life had been so much easier as an angel.

… Although if he could have kept his wings, he probably would have never met Sophie. Or Deckard Cain and Leah. Or Johanna, Kormac, Eirena, Lyndon, Myriam, Shen and Haedrig. Captain Haile. Lorath, Zayl, Jacob, Shanar, Gynvir, Thomas, Cullen, Mikulov…

And also true, recalling Lut Bahada and its serenity did make Tyrael feel a bit better and reminded him that he wanted to take Sophie there one day. Now that by some inexplicable reason they were still a couple…

So… things were complicated within him.

But Edith eventually did send him home, encouraging him to try to return to his normal daily routine, or at least to some small part of it, and they would continue their talks three times a week. Tyrael personally did not feel he could be of any kind of use to anyone, but he would not argue with a healer. He felt incredibly awkward when he stepped inside the mansion with Sophie and almost immediately got nearly tackled by Lorath to the ground. Lyndon, Quiet and even Zayl quickly gathered around them to welcome them, and Tyrael felt slightly overwhelmed by their presence. Sophie thankfully quickly made some space for him, chastising Lorath for his outburst.

- I'm sorry, I was just so worried! – Lorath tried to defend himself as he basically fled from Sophie to the backline.

- Be worried from a bit further away, will you! – the woman bristled as she returned to Tyrael's side.

- Sophie, it's okay – the mortal angel tried to shush her, internally wincing at how weak his own voice sounded even to him.

How could he possibly be of use to anyone in this state?

- It is good to have you back, Tyrael – Zayl slightly bowed his head, reserved as always. – The recalling of all the Horadrim is well underway. In a few days' time, we would be ready for the big meeting.

- It was my idea. Figured we would need to catch everyone up on the latest disaster – Lyndon grimaced.

-… A good call, yes. Thank you, everyone – Tyrael nodded.

Although he was highly doubtful if he would be able to recall the events without breaking down sooner or later, it was entirely true they needed to inform everyone about the new danger. As in Sanctuary needed any more adversaries…

They were about to move further into the building when there was a strange noise on the main door behind them. It sounded like the door knocker has hit the surface, but it was only one knock. Everyone turned around, staring. After a few moments of silence, another single knock could be heard.

-… A'ight – Lyndon grumbled under his nose.

He pulled out a dagger and motioned everyone to stay put. At the third single knock, he very carefully approached the door and leaned against one of the wings, slowly pushing it open with his shoulder and peeking through the crack. Tyrael pushed Sophie and Quiet behind him, Zayl subtly raised his ceremonial dagger, they all waited with bated breaths. Lyndon's eyes suddenly opened almost comically wide, before he kicked the doorwing wide open and shouted:

- What the bloody hell are you doing here?!

- This contraption on the door is quite strange for knocking.

Tyrael had to take a double take at the familiar voice. There was no way!

- For fu—Come in, before someone sees you! – Lyndon scurried out of the way, allowing a large shadow to take his place in the door.

Bowing to fit through the doorway, the unexpected guest made his way inside with slow movements. As always, he was fully clad in black leather, with only his ghoulishly pale face being bare. He was still missing his little finger on his left hand, a sign that his encounters with the Undertaker dagger would forever remain with him. The bottomless black pearls for eyes were the farthest thing from a friendly sight even in such a peaceful environment.

- Okay, so, everyone! Meet Rathma. Say hello, Rathma – Lyndon huffed with annoyance behind their guest, sheathing his dagger.

- Greetings. The newly founded Horadrim, I take it? – Rathma looked over each of them.

His voice was even but it was clear he wasn't deeply impressed.

- A very small portion of it, yes – Lyndon walked past him nonchalantly.

- Don't be mean, pale man! – Quiet frowned at their guest, which Rathma rewarded with a sharp side glance.

Tyrael quickly glanced at the others. Lorath and Sophie looked mildly surprised, neither of them knew exactly who this man was. Zayl on the other hand completely grew roots to his spot, staring at Rathma with almost comically wide eyes.

- Aye, ain't this the Chief himself! Aren't ya happy, lad? – Humbart just had to ruin the moment further, causing Zayl to nearly drop the skull.

He quickly stuffed the remains into his pouch and hid it behind his back while Rathma looked over him.

-… I can teach you a spell to mute the servant, if you wish, disciple – the nephalem offered after an awkward pause.

- That's—not-not necessarythankyousir – Zayl blurted out, his face actually slightly red.

Clearly he was not equipped to handle the emotions this situation brought about, and Tyrael felt his plight now more than ever.

- Suit yourself – Rathma nodded, then suddenly added –, Excellent job handling the Ureh and Astrogha situations, by the way.

- Thankyousir! – Zayl kept staring at the floor, he was definitely growing red at this point.

- Hey, that is high praise from a master necromancer! Aren't you happy? – Lorath grinned at his companion, the situation still sailing right over his head.

- Founder.

- Come again? – Lorath turned back to their guest, confused.

- I am the founder of necromancers, youngling – Rathma stated dryly. – Not a mere master.

- Oh. … Oh!

- You! You caused the battle on the ship, didn't you?! And the Skeletar Crawlers, the cemetery, the keep?! – Sophie hissed with pure venom, her eyes opening wide with rage.

- Sophie, please! – Tyrael placed himself between her and the nephalem, as if that would achieve anything. – He also helped us survive the final battle.

- Do not think for a second we'll forget those little escapades of yours! – the woman pointed accusingly at Rathma.

- Good. Keep that spark, lady. You will need it in the future – Rathma merely nodded.

- Alright, everyone, settle down! – Lyndon walked in the middle of the group, grabbing the attention. – Yes, Tyrael and Quiet had met Rathma—the Rathma during their travels, and yes, it was far from amicable at first. He is part of that massive story. Just know that Mr. Doom-and-Gloom here did help us survive in the end, even if I am also not a fan of his previous work.

- That is not one of my titles. Where did you even get that, Clear-seer?

- I am very creative like that. Better get used to it.

- Why are you here, Rathma? – Tyrael could finally ask.

- Why else? Have you already forgotten? – Rathma turned to him almost surprised.

- I… am not sure what you mean?

- The deal, Justice! – Rathma snorted disapprovingly. – You had parroted my own words back to me, told me you would "show good example" by seeking help for your ailment and bid me to reach out as well.

Tyrael stared dumbfounded at the nephalem.

- I admit I highly doubted you would actually live up to your word. But you did, there is no denying that. So here I am, as promised – Rathma finished.

-… You know what. I didn't think you had it in you – Lyndon whistled, clearly surprised.

- I am no oathbreaker, scoundrel. And if there is one thing I refuse to do, is to follow my damnable father in his footsteps – Rathma snorted, glancing at the scoundrel.

- I… did not expect this, I will admit – Tyrael found his voice finally. – I did not think of that conversation as a deal.

- You may now – Rathma nodded curtly, then looked around the room almost uncomfortably.

- This will be so weird – Lorath looked at Zayl who nodded but kept his gaze on the floor.

- He is very weird, yes – Quiet gestured at Rathma, earning yet another sharp glance from the nephalem.

- Okay, so do you have a plan, Rathma, or did you just jump in to say hi? – Lyndon placed his hands on his hips.

The nephalem kept looking around, not answering.

- This… is a rather small space – he commented then to Tyrael.

- Uhm… The main hall is much bigger – the mortal angel half-heartedly gestured at the door leading on.

Rathma tilted his head to the side then moved further in the mansion without a word.

- Are we seriously just going to allow him to walk as he pleases?! – Sophie hissed in desperate anger.

- There is little we can do to stop him anyway – Lyndon shrugged, annoyed.

- And he is on our side, Sophie. Please believe me – Tyrael took her hand into his.

- I believe you, but I have a hard time just forgiving and forgetting – the woman blew out the air, trying to regain her composure.

- Nobody is forgetting anything, girl, trust me – Lyndon stared after Rathma.

- He is very strong, and he can help us, and I hope he can learn to be good again – Quiet gently pulled on the skirt of Sophie to get her attention.

She sighed and patted him on the head:

- I hope you will be right about that, little one.

The group quickly followed Rathma into the main hall. The nephalem seemed somewhat more at ease here, if not by much. But the second they had tried to get him to choose a room, he immediately turned around on his heels, complaining:

- Are you trying to make me live in a mouse nest?!

It was a rather sudden outburst, to be sure, but Lyndon figured the first of the nephalem was not used to such "low level accommodations".

- Listen, Rathma, this is the best you can get here – he rolled his eyes. – I am sure you don't want to live in the main hall where everyone is constantly walking up and down. Either take it or leave it, man, I don't know what to tell you.

In the end, Rathma most definitely did not take it, so they settled on the "just jumped in to say hi" option instead.

- It would be best if you took part in the grand meeting. How can we reach you once that happens? – Tyrael asked.

- I'll be in touch – Rathma dismissed the concern curtly.

He seemed almost eager to get out of the house, which was just the kind of attitude Lyndon was expecting from him.

- What an asshole, honestly – he grumbled to Tyrael once the nephalem quite literally poofed out of this plane of existence, leaving behind a slight smell of sulfur.

- … I am not so sure about that – Tyrael glanced at him. – But… maybe.

- What do you mean?

- I don't know, he seemed… nervous to me. Or maybe I just imagined it.

- Hm… too many people, you think?

- Perhaps. He had been living alone for millenia now.

- True… Well then, he's going to love the gathering. If he even shows up, of course – Lyndon let out a loud frustrated sigh.

- Right. The gathering – Tyrael muttered to himself.

He took a deep breath, steeling his resolve, then turned to Lyndon.

- I need you t-to tell me how you ended up with him – he said quickly before doubt could settle in.

Please don't ask me if I am sure about this, please don't ask, Tyrael thought desperately.

Lyndon was quick to catch on, thankfully, and it honestly surprised the mortal angel how instinctively the scoundrel seemed to pick up on other people's inner turmoil. Nailing Rathma's hidden plight straight in the head back in Tuon's garden had been quite the proof of his abilities. Was it an ability of the Clear-seer nephalem, or just a skill Lyndon had honed during his womanizer days? Probably not even he knew.

Tyrael, Lyndon and Quiet quickly retreated to one of the more remote rooms on the first floor. Quiet fused the door into his frame to make sure nobody could open it, and conjured up some water and fruit for everyone out of the floor. Tyrael and the child sat on a bed while Lyndon was slowly pacing up and down in front of them, gathering his thoughts.

- He already told me, it is a very strange story. But it has a happy ending – Quiet told Tyrael matter-of-factly.

- It does. Damned borderline miracle that it did – Lyndon took a deep breath.

- I just do not want to hear it for the first time during the meeting. I am certain I need time to… process it – Tyrael helplessly shrugged, reaching for a pear.

He wasn't sure if he even wanted to eat but his hands sought after something to occupy themselves with almost on their own. Part of him already regretted his decision, but his rational side knew this had to be done right the hell now and no later.

- Fair point, fair point – Lyndon massaged his neck.

He stopped pacing and turned to them.

- Alright. Hang on tight, Tyrael. Here is my insane series of events, after we got separated from each other in the Blood Marsh…

And so he began. How he teleported to Malthael who had been rejected by the Arch and thrusted back down onto Sanctuary. Their many clashes, Malthael attaching himself to Lyndon in the hopes that the human would kill him and give him another chance at rebirth. His dig through the human's memories. Lyndon's injury from the Blood Golems, his meeting with Ytar when he had believed Quiet had abandoned him for good. Their chance meeting with Abd al-Hazir who had joined the ranks of the fabled Archivists well before the Reaper invasion. The accidental teleportation to Sescheron and how Lyndon had succumbed to a sudden fever for almost a day. The Unclean attack that Malthael and Abd had somehow won. The Ice Clan ritual, Maluus's return. How Malthael had almost fallen under the demon's sway but he managed to literally burn out the corruption at the expense of his own well-being. How they lured Maluus to the Barbarian Immortal Throne with the help of Luther the treasure goblin, and let the spirits of dead warriors deal with the insane demon. And of course, the hair-rising clash with Bul-Kathos where the entire team came together and put up a surprisingly good fight against the nephalem. In the end they did lose, but then the Barbarian spirits and their dead king Kanai had been the ones to spare and save them from the fury of their Forefather. In the end, Kanai had told them about the brief history of Sanctuary… and how now Quiet was both Inarius and the Worldstone, as one being.

- Not gonna lie that news… hit me hard – Lyndon sighed after downing a cup of water. – I… I was suddenly so afraid to make the smallest mistake, I was afraid that it now all hinged on me, and I am… well, a pretty big failure in many things still.

- That is wrong! You are the best, papa! – Quiet shouted defiantly, slamming his fists into the bed.

Lyndon smiled warmly at his son, waving it all away with a chuckle.

- So in the end… I guess I got some well-needed pep talk from Zei as he hauled our asses back to Westmarch from Sescheron – he continued. – I got in the city, ran into Sophie, she told me where you guys were heading to. So I prepared for the road with the help of Abd. Then he tried to teleport us to near Duncraig with one of those fancy books of his… but it turned out that book was found by a Wisdom angel and brought to their makeshift camp. Yeah, they are down here… all of them. Just like their boss.

- King Torion's hunting party had found an anarch and we accidentally ran into them – Tyrael nodded tiredly. – I… I advised them not to display him publicly, that would just rile the people up further against the angels. I think they ended up throwing him into the palace dungeon.

- Hm… something to keep in mind – Lyndon mumbled, staring before himself for a moment.

Then he shook himself and got back on track:

- So we ended up teleporting straight in the middle of their camp. They completely freaked out, you can imagine, and fled. I guess they regrouped since then, but damn, it was one hell of a chaotic retreat. Malthael was practically gut-punched by the discovery… honestly, it completely crushed him, it was actually depressing to see. Abd decided to bring him back with him to the Great Library and he had been sticking up for him ever since. It's honestly amazing, they really are close friends. As for me… I bid them farewell and went on my merry way towards the East. The rest… well, you know.

Tyrael exhaled long and loudly. He let himself fall back and to the side on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He kept turning the pear around in his hands.

- Anu help us now – was all he could manage.

- We told you it was a happy ending. Well… sorta. At least nobody died – Lyndon helplessly shrugged.

- And we met Maltael again not long ago. He is strange but he doesn't look evil. He and Worrldsston talked inside my head – Quiet reassuringly patted Tyrael's knee.

- Yeah. Malthael is trying to join the ranks of the Archivists because he wants to find a way to regain some magic and help his people get back to the Heavens – Lyndon nodded, dead serious. – Abd has asked my help to vouch for him during some kind of trial that is coming up. I will be there, and I will aid him.

- Are you certain it is a good idea? – Tyrael kept his eyes on the ceiling, he sounded exhausted even to himself. – I understand Malthael had saved you all and even offered himself as bait to one of the most dangerous demons alive. Yet he is the most loyal follower of practicality. Maybe in those moments it was just more logical to take your side.

- Right, the logical thing had been to stick around and try to stop the demon from getting out into the world which he actively hates. Instead of, you know, just hitting the road and walking away from all that mess, find someone else whom he can coax into killing him.

Tyrael had to admit, Lyndon had a point there. That had undoubtedly been the single most suicidal decision anyone could have made in that situation.

- Listen, Tyrael – the scoundrel leaned into his vision. – It is a goddamn lot to get through. I get it. I will give you all the time you need, I promise. But just know that I will do everything I can to somehow get Malthael back on the road of at least neutrality. During our travels, Abd had made a very good point: that perhaps it was wiser not to antagonize the former Angel of Death, and he is damn right. I firmly believe that it is the right choice to help Malthael try to better himself and help his people. I am sure you can see the potential gain in that.

- And if he is playing you?

- Was Malthael famous for his lies, manipulation and acting skills? Genuine question.

-… No. He was a… talented speechmaker, he could convince the whole Angelic Host if he wanted to. Whenever he chose to speak, that is. But it had never been through lies. He always had a clear vision and a planned out road to get there. And you know us angels… we love a good well-thought out road – Tyrael sighed in defeat. – Acting was… completely out of the question for him. For any of us, really.

- Yeah, well, I guarantee you, there were no speeches this time around. He is absolutely wrecked but at least he is slowly gathering the courage to try. And I will help him.

- Understood. I cannot argue with reasoning. Only worry.

- Much appreciated – Lyndon nodded and pulled out of Tyrael's field of vision.

The mortal angel could hear Quiet getting up from bed and joining his father's side.

- Are you going to join us for lunch? – Lyndon asked him.

-… I think I'm going to spend some time here, if that is alright with you – Tyrael waved tiredly.

- Yeah, figured. If you need to talk, I'll be around. Hang in there!

- There is fruit and water here still, if you hungry – Quiet reminded him.

- Thanks, you two.

With that, Quiet turned the door back to normal and the two of them left. And Tyrael stayed on the bed, staring up, his mind feeling like two millstones turning slowly, painfully, grinding over the information he was just bombarded with.

The former Angel of Death here on Sanctuary. In the heart of Westmarch. Trying to join a human faction.

Anu help them all now.


Tyrael, this is your life now, get used to it. I'm sorry but this is how things roll on Sanctuary. Shit gets weird fast and the next thing you know, your oldest, formerly genocidal brother now wants to become a professional nerd. Life's gonna life, man.

Originally, this chapter was literally twice this long (would have been much longer if I included another planned scene). However, thanks to some really good advice, I ended up separating the whole writing into three separate chapter of much friendlier length. The other big plus is that the next chapter is guaranteed to come out in September, yaaaay! :D I probably won't be able to fully reinstate the former monthly update schedule, but it will be very nice to temporarily welcome it back on board!

I hope you enjoyed the read, cupcakes, let me know what you think! Thank you for your patience and attention, and I see you all in September!

Lore & Trivia corner

- Edlin and his children make a comeback! Fuck Rea.

- Rathma's comment about "too small spaces" is not a one-off, I can promise you cupcakes that. ;)