Diablo III: Storm of Light (46 page)

“I was no longer one of you the moment I shed my wings, Imperius. I see that now.”

“Perhaps. But the mortals you gathered have come here and
killed members of our own kind! I had always hoped you would see the errors of your ways, see what humanity was capable of, understand why we must stamp out this human plague once and for all to ensure our victory over the Burning Hells. And yet now you stand before me, even after I have slaughtered a member of the Luminarei to save your life, and you accuse me of sending an assassin to kill you, one I had considered my brother until the End of Days.”

“I do not believe what you say. And we had no other choice. The stone—”

“Do not blame the stone for your sins! It was safe here, guarded by us! One thousand times safer than among the world of men. And now you have put us all in danger—”

“No, Imperius.”

Two other forms swept into the room and hovered next to Imperius, their wings spread wide behind them as they floated above the floor.

Auriel and Itherael
.

It was Auriel who had spoken. She came forward between Tyrael and Imperius. “Tyrael may not have chosen the best way to accomplish his goals, but he was right. The Black Soulstone was slowly tainting our world. If it had continued, we would all have been lost to the darkness forever.”

Imperius swelled with anger. “That is madness, Auriel. The stone is nothing while the Prime Evil is imprisoned—”

“I do not know its method of action,” Auriel said. “I only know what I have felt, what I have seen. And the corruption in the gardens, within this very chamber, was real. It changed us in ways we are only beginning to understand. Ways that were subtle enough at first not to be noticed by those who were blinded by their own pride. Can you not feel it? Already the taint is fading.” She turned to Tyrael. “Perhaps it took a mortal to open my mind to the truth.”

“But the humans must be held accountable,” Imperius said. “Lives have been lost. The Luminarei will bring the stone back here, where it belongs.”

“They will not,” Auriel said, “because I ordered them to let the humans go.”

“You did
what
?” Imperius rose to his full height, and for a moment, it seemed as if he might strike against Auriel herself. “You had no
right
!”

“The humans are gone, Imperius, to a place we cannot reach. The stone is somewhere safe, and it is better that we do not know where. The Heavens can be peaceful again. Do not let your pride and your rage overshadow the fact that we are whole once more. Let us show mercy.”

“Mercy is a sign of weakness,” Imperius said. “It has no place in war.”

“You would say the same of love,” Auriel said. “And compassion. But we should value these things during war and peace. They are not weaknesses but signs of strength.” She moved to the center of the Council chamber. “I call for an emergency vote of the Council. Put Tyrael on trial, and let him be judged for his crimes in the Ring; or allow him to remain a member of the Council as Aspect of Wisdom, acting as ambassador between angels and men.”

“You—you cannot do this.”

“It is already done.” Auriel raised her sword. “I vote for his reinstatement and return to Sanctuary. It is where he wants to be and where he belongs. He can guard the stone, as he has wanted to do from the beginning.” She turned to Tyrael. “I wish you had continued to try to work through the Council, but perhaps we gave you no choice. I am sorry I did not listen, my brother. And I am sorry you have chosen this path away from the only home you have ever known. But in my mind, it is yours to choose.” She turned back to Imperius. “Your vote.”

“I—” Imperius struggled with himself, his wings snapping behind him. “He stands trial!”

“And Itherael?”

The final member of the Angiris Council hovered in silence for a long moment. It seemed as if he might not speak at all. “He is no longer an archangel,” Itherael said finally. “But he remains a member of the Council. Tyrael acted with the best intentions to save both worlds. For that, he shall not be judged here, but I shall hope he will find the answers he seeks elsewhere. His fate is known to me no more.”

“You are both fools!” Imperius thundered, his voice bringing a rain of dust and shards of crystal. Solarion glowed white-hot as he summoned the spear once again, and Tyrael believed he had every intention of using it. “You have chosen to destroy us! By breeding with demons, Inarius corrupted the holy essence of the angels and brought shame and darkness upon us all—a human plague. The Black Soulstone will open the door on Sanctuary to the return of the Prime Evil, and the gates of Hell will pour forth with abominations!”

“It is better to take the chance of hiding it,” Tyrael said. “If it remains here, the Heavens will surely become hopelessly corrupted and fall to darkness.”

“The deaths of our brethren will be
your
responsibility.” Imperius landed in front of Tyrael, pointing Solarion at him like an accusing finger. “You have peered into Chalad’ar at long last. Has the chalice not shown you this? Have you learned
nothing
?”

Tyrael smiled bitterly as his brother-in-arms waited for his reply. So Imperius had not been responsible for Balzael’s actions after all—at least, not all of them. But his views on Sanctuary could never be swayed. Imperius saw things as right and wrong, good and evil. There were no subtleties, no shades of gray.

For a brief moment, he thought about what might have been had he chosen not to shed his wings and become mortal. What
would have become of him then? Would he have eventually been convinced of the validity of Imperius’s beliefs?
He is still my brother
. But Tyrael’s trust in him had been damaged beyond repair, and Imperius would never view him in the same way again.

Perhaps, after all this time, he was closer to man than angel.

“I have used the chalice,” Tyrael said. “They say that all emotions of sentient beings are contained there, and that may be true. I found what it means to be human, even if I could not become one myself. But to witness these emotions all at once is to distance oneself from them, to ultimately become immune to them. What I found was the end of mercy, the end of love and kindness, and the end of emotion, rather than its beginning.

“But Chalad’ar has failed in this. I have chosen to remain in the human world, to embrace their potential for goodness and light. You may believe their potential for evil is too great a risk to take. But I believe we must take that risk. For without them, all hope is lost, and the darkness will eventually win.”

“If you turn your back on me, we are forever enemies,” Imperius said. His voice had become quiet, but the coldness emanating from him was strong. “There will be no returning from this, Tyrael.”

Tyrael found Chalad’ar still sitting near him on the floor. He picked it up, feeling the familiar heft of it, the energy. But the thirst to look into Chalad’ar’s depths was gone.

Such a small thing to contain such power
, he thought.
But it does not wield that power over me. Not anymore
.

Tyrael threw the chalice in the direction of Imperius. It hit the floor and rolled, coming to rest directly before him. “I am mortal and always will be, and humanity is the future of you all, whether you choose to recognize that or not,” Tyrael said.

And then he turned and left the Council chamber, walking toward a new and unknown future.

Tyrael was gone.

Jacob’s first thought, when they all had stepped safely through the portal and reached the nephalem city at long last, was that they had left an essential part of themselves behind. It was like losing a limb.

There was no way Tyrael could have survived for this long. Their leader had fallen.

Gynvir set the satchel down and stepped as far away as possible, leaning her shoulder on the wall with her bloody hands on her knees. She looked as if she might topple over at any moment. Her skin was gray, her breathing labored. The Black Soulstone radiated a hot, oozing sickness that they could all feel deep in their bones. But the same protective spell that concealed the nephalem city from angels and demons would keep it contained within the catacombs. They would bury the Black Soulstone here, deep below the surface, in these farthest reaches of the warren of chambers where Rakkis himself had been laid to rest. There it would remain for all eternity.

Finishing the mission was the only way to pay tribute to those who had sacrificed their own lives to save this world, and Jacob
would make certain it was done, if he had to carry it that far himself.

“You’re really going to be fine?”

Shanar was next to him, her hands around his shoulders, her beautiful face inches from his own. She touched the closed wound on his chest, and for the first time, he realized that it ended at exactly the same spot where the phantom had marred him, obliterating the strange crescent-shaped scar and replacing it with another. He felt something else within him, almost as if he carried some other being inside his body. It was an odd sensation but not entirely unpleasant. Whatever Zayl had done to him, he was alive, and that was more than he might have hoped for when the sword had first found its mark.

Jacob considered Shanar’s question.
Was
he fine? He nodded, aware of the difference within him, the newfound confidence that the battle with the Sicarai had wrought. His strength had never come from El’druin or any other weapon; it had come from inside him.

Perhaps she felt the change, too. For once, she dropped the lighthearted banter and simply kissed him softly. “Thank the heavens,” she whispered. “But you owe me one, pal. I almost died of fright watching you bleed out all over the floor.”

Jacob smiled, but his heart remained heavy. “You should check on Gynvir. She’s been wounded, and who knows what the stone has done to her. We’ll need to leave here soon, or we’ll all be in danger.”

She studied him a moment longer, then nodded. “A take-charge kind of man. I could get used to that.” She turned to go, then turned back. “He might still make it,” she said. “Don’t give up on him yet.”

Jacob shook his head. There would be a time for him to mourn, but now was not it. Tyrael had wanted him to become a leader of the Horadrim, and he was going to do it. There were others he
must attend to, important things to accomplish, and the phantoms were still out there somewhere in the dark. Sanctuary was far from safe.

Cullen sat on a stone wall, the monk at his side. Cullen had not spoken since their return, and now he stared into space. He had lost his glasses, and he looked softer, more vulnerable, and yet there was a new energy about him, one that might make others keep their distance.

Jacob turned to the necromancer. Zayl was a shell of his former self. He stood, still clutching his blackened stump, while Humbart muttered something too low for Jacob to hear.

“You saved my life,” Jacob said. “I don’t know what I can ever do to repay you for your sacrifice.”

Zayl nodded once, his eyes regaining a bit of their former strange glint. “You would have done the same, if you were in my place—”

Jacob felt someone at his shoulder a split second before he was pushed aside. “You,” Gynvir said, pointing at Zayl. She was breathing hard. Her arm was still bleeding, although the drips had finally slowed enough to make Jacob think she would live.

Jacob thought she might attack the necromancer, but instead, she stuck out her hand. “I might not like the magic you wield, but I will admit when I was wrong,” she said. “You are welcome to fight beside me anytime, necromancer.”

Zayl held up the blackened stump of his right arm with a slight smile. “I don’t think I’ll be shaking anyone’s hand anytime soon. But thank you.”

“Right,” Gynvir muttered. “Sorry.”

The sound of rapidly approaching footsteps made them all turn. Lorath Nahr came into the room, followed by several knights and the Horadrim from Gea Kul they had left behind. Lorath was overjoyed to see them, but his face fell when Jacob explained what had happened, and the mood of the party
quickly turned from one of celebration to one of somber respect for the fallen.

Everything changed in an instant when Tyrael stepped through the portal.