Read Diablo III: Storm of Light Online
Authors: Nate Kenyon
Diablo III: Storm of Light (47 page)
The former archangel surveyed his remaining team members as they swarmed around him, overjoyed at his return. A group of strangers just a few weeks before, they were now a small army of warriors who trusted one another with their lives. They had faced nearly insurmountable challenges and survived, and the Black Soulstone was safely within the catacombs.
But their victory had not been without a terrible sacrifice.
As the celebration settled down, Tyrael put a hand on Cullen’s shoulder. “We have lost a good man,” he said. “Thomas will not be forgotten.”
“Never,” Cullen said. A single tear traced its way down his face. “He was like a brother to me.”
“Your actions in the Ring of Judgment saved our lives,” Tyrael said. He looked out at the others gathered before him. “Without all of your efforts, the Sicarai would have slaughtered us, and the stone would have remained in the Heavens. All of Sanctuary has you to thank for its survival. A short time ago, I asked you to carry a great burden, to assume a responsibility that was not of your own making. In doing this, I had hoped that you would embrace your calling and fulfill your destinies, although the odds were long. I can say now that you have gone beyond the call of duty, and everything we have fought for has been realized. The stone has been returned to Sanctuary, where it will remain under our guard. All of you are heroes.”
A small cheer went up from the crowd. Tyrael held up his hand. “We are not done yet,” he said. “Although Balzael has been defeated and the archangels have pledged to leave us in peace,
threats to Sanctuary remain. The phantoms still haunt the people, and rogue demons must be stamped out. Those who fought at my side in the Heavens must rest and take time away from the stone to lessen its effect before they begin to fight these battles. The others shall remain here. We must place the stone in the tomb of Rakkis and seal it away, and the tomb must never be reopened. Those who remain will become the guardians of this place, and the secret of the stone will lie with them and them alone.”
Tyrael thought of the text he had been working on, nearly finished: the completion of Leah and Deckard Cain’s work and a summary of what he had learned as a mortal—a record of what had led him to this moment. He would give it to the Horadrim for safekeeping. He still had much to learn about his new life, and his future was unclear, but he knew that he would live it in Sanctuary, serving the light in whatever way he could.
This was his home now.
The thing that had once been Norlun crouched among the deep shadows of the stinking cell. The guards who ran the secret prison underneath the Church of the Holy Order had left some time ago and removed all the torches except for one that burned near the base of the steps that led above. That did not matter; even through these unfamiliar human eyes, he did not need much light to see.
By the time the guards returned in the morning, their world would be entirely different.
The templar sect he had been manipulating for his own purposes in Westmarch was in shambles, the men either dead or imprisoned with him. It was no great loss to the Guardian. Norlun was a weak man at the core and his templar were a means to an end, a distraction and cover for a much more important effort on a much grander scale.
The Guardian had watched through Norlun’s eyes for some time, waiting for their plans to come to fruition. It had been an easy thing for him to take over the man’s body and soul, and waiting was something he was familiar with over the many millennia of his existence.
But now things had changed. It was time for a new approach.
The Guardian looked at the pile of bodies in the corner of the cell. There had been six men in here with him when the knights locked them away, and space had been quite tight. He studied their haunted features, drained of color, expressions of terror permanently frozen on their faces.
Death is the void, and mortals fear it
.
Fear was something he could use.
Balzael had failed, and the Angiris Council had refused to act. That was also no great loss, however. The Guardian was not concerned with whether Balzael survived long enough to join him in the purging of Sanctuary—he had all the assistance he needed already on the ground.
His Death Angels.
Even the loss of the new angel, one he would have enjoyed recruiting to his side, was not a major blow to his plans. And now, thanks to those fools who called themselves Horadrim, the last piece of the puzzle was within his reach.
The Guardian stood up and spread his arms wide. Norlun’s physical body began to change, his arms and legs lengthening, spine cracking as it stretched and bent, tendons and ligaments popping as they adjusted to the strain. His flesh melted, running from his bones like soft butter. If anyone in the cell had been left to see it, they might have dug rivers into their own flesh trying to escape the horror.
“Hey,” someone called from another cell. “What’s happening in there? Sounds like bones breaking! You safe, Lord Norlun?”
The Guardian did not answer. He reached out with unnaturally long arms, blowing the cell door off its hinges. The heavy iron clanged off the wall and came to rest in a cloud of choking dust. The man in the other cell shouted, calling out for help, as the Guardian stepped forth into the flickering light, his form absorbing the torch’s energy, drawing it out, and extinguishing the flame.
The world was plunged into darkness.
The Guardian would begin with the human souls who were imprisoned down here before moving into the catacombs, and then he would rain terror and destruction down upon the heads of the people of Sanctuary.
The time had finally come for him to reveal his true self.
The Black Soulstone was waiting.
Playing in a sandbox other than your own is a daunting task, and I am forever grateful for the amazing and talented team of people at Blizzard Entertainment, who brainstorm with me, answer all my questions about the world of
Diablo
, and exhibit endless patience as I try to get things right. Micky, Matt, Jerry, Joshua, Sean, Brian (I’m going to forget someone, so I’ll stop there)—thank you for your enthusiasm and support. I’d also like to thank my editor at Simon & Schuster, Ed Schlesinger, for his wise counsel, keen eye, and fantastic editing skills. This book would not have been possible without him. I’d like to thank my children—Emily, Harrison, Abbey, and Ellie Rose—for always putting up with me when I’m writing (and grumpy). Finally, to my wife Kristie, the love of my life, my moon—thank you for your unwavering support and enthusiasm.
Nate Kenyon is the author of the thriller
Day One
from St. Martin’s Press. He is the author of seven other novels and dozens of short stories in the horror, thriller, and sci-fi genres. His first novel,
Bloodstone
, was a Bram Stoker Award finalist and won the P&E Horror Novel of the Year.
The Reach
, also a Stoker Award finalist, received a starred review from
Publishers Weekly
and was optioned for film. He is also the author of
The Bone Factory, Sparrow Rock, Prime, StarCraft: Ghost: Spectres
(2011), and
Diablo III: The Order
(2012). He is a member of the Horror Writers Association and International Thriller Writers.
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authors.simonandschuster.com/Nate-Kenyon
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