Chapter Text
Auriel hummed as she worked.
She cut and weaved armor and flesh shut. Her hand as steady as tempered steel. She reached for a pair of tweezers beside her and plucked another fragment of corruption that had lodged itself onto his chest . Golden and red blood leaked from his openings onto the table, staining her clothes and gloves.
The process involved opening and stitching him back up over and over again, incision, extraction, cauterization, closure.
Diablo's blow had left him with more than just a dent in his stomach. Over the years the wound had festered and spread outwards towards the rest of his body. Replacing angelic steel for corrupted flesh and hellish obsidian. Now, more than a half a century later, it had claimed most of his abdomen and lower chest.
That day, she'd fought harder to keep him alive than in the front lines.
Along the table had been carved ancient runes and squares to attempt and revert the corruption, but it was too little, too late, the sickness had already made a home in his body and only accelerated every year.
It was getting increasingly hard to keep his condition secret, along with the fact there were few healers with her skill, no one was as privy to his injuries as Auriel was. It was an open secret at this point, he’d hide it with robes tightly bound but his rare public appearances only fueled speculation.
She could feel her resonance align in tune with his, as dim as it was. She knew it would comfort him in times like this as it comforted her to know he was still here.
Imperius barely made a sound, but his hands clenched into fists when she chiseled away a hardened piece of corruption from his chest. The fused remnants of flesh and armor joined the growing pile of tainted debris on the tray.
The process of corruption seemed to hurt him more than the medical routine of removing it from his body. He’d described it as something insidious, a parasite growing inside of him, suffocating the light and sound pushing out to make space for flesh and obsidian.
Candles were lit around the dim room: He’d said the strong light reflected from the windows had started to bother him. It was not a good sign.
“Breathe” She laid a hand on his chest to steady it. Imperius obeyed.
Auriel hated that he had to be tied down.
Hated that the restraints weren’t for his pain, but for her safety.
She nudged the thin knife into a crevice with delicate care. The steel met resistance, and Imperius’ body tensed. Digging deep she finally found the tumor she was looking for: a dense, pulsating tumor of obsidian-black tissue, buried deep.
She held her breath as she worked, snuffing the possibility of her hand slipping.
With delicate care, she began to cut, but when she found the obsidian mass, it resisted, as if clinging to him. He was more flesh and bone around this part of his body and she could feel the tumor latching onto him like a parasite. Her concentration would not falted and she heard its tendrils snapping as she severed its attachments and after a few cuts, she freed it.
He sucked in a sharp breath. The restraints groaned under the strain of his tension, but he did not cry out.
The corruption pulsed once, as if it were alive, as she set it down onto the tray with a wet thud.
Imperius exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the remnants of her work. “You know, Auriel, if you were any slower, I might’ve had time to actually die on this table.”
Immediately, golden blood poured from the wound. Auriel pressed her palm over it with cotton, channeling her resonance through her fingertips, weaving divine energy through fractured flesh and tainted marrow. Light radiated softly beneath her hands, closing the laceration as best as it could be closed, but it would leave heavy scars, like the many that riddled over his body now.
Auriel shot him a flat look, unimpressed. “If you had any patience, you might actually live long enough to be grateful”
The corruption was in his blood, gnawing at his essence. It had not yet taken his mind -his temper was as short as ever, - but she preferred him like this than the days where despair gnawed at his mind.
She stood up to clean her supplies, everything would have to be carefully sanitized to prevent further infection.
Imperius flexed his fingers, staring at the remnants of his own decay as if willing them to vanish. His body was still strong, still powerful but they both knew strength alone would not save him.
“Have the runes eased your pain?” she asked, removing her gloves and putting her potions back in the cabinet. She tried to keep the place organized and clean but the surgical room they’d been using for the last decades looked more like a botched summoning than a clinic. Both angelic and red blood scattered over the floor and remnants of Imperius “outbursts” remained on the walls, scratches and dark burns chiseled at the marble walls.
Imperius muttered, shifting against the restraints. “Pain is the least of my concerns”
Auriel turned to him, she narrowed the eyes in her mask “That’s not an answer.”
“You should already know the truth” he countered.
She sighed, taking a cloth to clean the worst of the blood from her hands, but the demonic substance had a tendency to stick onto anything, it made the metal in her hands turn more into a coppery red and a golden glow “I can adjust the inscriptions, try another configuration—”
“Don’t bother, it’s fine as it is” he looked over to the bloodied tray “We are wasting time”
Auriel had heard this conversation before. She hated that he berated her for trying, she no longer went along with his remarks.
She prepared for the second stage of the procedure, carefully unwrapping the sterile needle and tubing for the transfusion. The purity in her blood would stave off some of the sickness, fortifying him and preventing further bloodloss.
“This is not the end, Imperius” She sat next to him, laced her hand with his, but he rejected her touch, yet her fingers held on tight “I’ll be here even if you turn ” the tube pulsed with her essence like quiet reminder that her blood now flowed through his veins, fighting the darkness in ways she couldn’t fully control.
Silence stretched between them. There was a time when she believed nothing would break the unity of the council, but even before the corruption she could feel the distance between her fellow councilors becoming larger and larger.
Then, finally, his voice came low and quiet, edged with something raw. “I would rather burn.”
They were running out of time.
Imperius wasn’t the only one dealing with a demonic affliction.
Quiet was the Arch today.
The spine of Anu stood at the center of the Silver city - massive in size, it loomed over the city as its highest tower. It was the instrument in which creation sang, sang the song of life. Creation was not dead, but was an intangible being that weaved every soul both sentient and not into its intricate web. The Arch was a relic of a forlorn age in which the Everything had once been One. And where its subtle vibrations had once cast Heaven in a soothing melody there was no singing today. Corruption had seeped into parts of the crystal, turning the shining white into bloody red with tumors sprouting.
It put heaven in an odd state of twilight, with its light not shining as brightly and the faint red light it emitted.
For such a massive structure most of it looked fine, it was mainly the middle part that had been affected where it met with the floor level of the city
It wasn’t this way all days, some days its sad humming could be heard serenading, the only indication that it was alive and they were not doomed.
When Auriel walked further into the halls there was no one to greet her. An angel was only born when the arch vibrated in perfect resonance and in times in which there was harmony in heaven which was a rare occurrence these days. She knew it would take them centuries to regain their numbers.
On the few occasions lightsong bore fruit, the corruption made it so many angels were born with deformities. She’d lead the angels choir for time immemorial, but even she felt her resonance and voice stiffer than before, as if a cord inside of her had been damaged.
Her feet led her to the Library of Fate. She could feel Itherael faintly calling to her, it was more of an instinct than an actual cry, but she beckoned. Their talks had become rare: where they’d once been bound by the hip. Itherael spent most of his time in his writing and Auriel was too busy as the leader of the council and dealing with the corruption that plagued heaven for them to resume their talks. Without her closest brothers she felt lonelier than ever.
Auriel carefully treaded over a lonely corrupted root that had found its way stuck in the ground to head into a building that had its roof caved in. They’d managed to repair much in the past half a century but echoes of hell's assault remained.
Ithereal had always been the orderly type, but in recent years, chaos reigned in his side of the Silver city.
It was worse than the last time she’d been here. Inside, towers of books and scrolls made the labyrinth that was the Library of Fate. Their careful organization undone by neglect and urgency. A few angels roamed the archive going about their tasks but Itherael seldom had any assistants anymore, much preferring to keep his work private and many of his host was either dead or had been reassigned over to other places that needed more immediate attention.
Papers littered the floors and she made a careful show to not step on any of them. The archive was constantly changing and reshaping, the floors twisted, bookshelves moved of their own accord. A being who could not fly would not be able to reach its heart as the direction of the floors and the bookshelves changed, gravity did not reign closer to its core and it was difficult to tell where was up and down. Still, Itherael’s song guided her through the maze where she finally landed in one of the walls of his office, where the worst of the disarray nested.
"You let your library fall into ruin," she noted, her voice light, though there was concern beneath it. It seemed he could not keep up with the documents he wrote, finding anything here would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.
“You came” he rarely ever lifted his head to greet her, they’d grown past the point of pleasantries, but he did so this time. She could feel his resonance dimmer - he was tired.
She folded her wings behind her back letting them trail behind her like her cord and robes. Auriel moved a stack of papers to reveal a plush chair amongst the disorder, Itherael would surely not mind her moving his things at this stage. She made herself comfortable between the dust and velvets. “You rarely call for me anymore” she wallowed.
“We both have our duties, sister” he replied with a hint of shame in his voice, he fidgeted with his hands as silence stretched between them when she didn’t reply.
“There is something I must show you” he stood up, getting right to the point.
He burrowed through his documents and connected red strings to his huge board that hung in his wall, several meters in width and height. It was magical in nature, it swirled and changed with the motion of a hand. Auriel merely looked at him expectantly, she’d sunk into the couch like mush, after hours of surgery and giving away her blood she still felt a little faint.
Fate wasn’t a direct thing, the scroll spoke in code and riddles and it showed many outcomes instead of one, she admired Itherael’s work for she could not understand any of it.
“Mephisto has reformed” Auriel stilled.
The Heavenly Gates had remained sealed for decades, little got in or out. News of Hell’s movements had been sporadic, fragmented. For Mephisto to return so soon… it felt too early. Too soon for comfort.
“Are you certain? It’s too early, we’ve heard nothing from our contacts in hell” It was rare for demons to appear in the Scroll of Fate but it did happen at times
“Not in hell” he corrected his tone grave “In Sanctuary. I’ve been tracking some of their movements. There seemed to be a scuffle, his daughter was involved, someone captured him in a soulstone and gave him a new vessel”
Itherael’s fingers hovered over a name in his board, written in celestial ink.
Akarat.
Auriel’s breath hitched. “The Prophet?” She wasn’t the most versed in Sanctuary’s history, but she’d heard the name countless times of the man who shaped the Zakarum faith, to know the importance of such a person.
“The people already worship him.” Itherael’s voice was almost hollow. “His return, his ‘miracle’ has only solidified their faith. Mephisto wears his form like a second skin, twisting his words, bending their will, making them see what he wishes them to see. He does not need to conquer Sanctuary if it kneels to him willingly”
Auriel sighed, tracing the engravings in her mask, as if it would relieve any stress from her.
They had enough problems as it was. The corruption spreading through Imperius, the slow collapse of the Council, the festering wounds left by Malthael’s madness, not to mention Tyrael’s disappearance.“Sanctuary has gone unchecked for too long, there is not an outcome where this does not come back to bite us” Itherael nodded.
“What course of action follows?” It always came as a surprise when Itharael looked at her for guidance instead of the other way around, she was his leader now, Heaven ’ s leader, she carried a heavy burden that only increased over time, her people expected things of her.
“What does the Scroll of Fate say?” She asked.
“We are at a crossroads, it’s best if you don’t know, but things are in store for you, Auriel” he began “As member of the Angiris Council I’d advise you to deal with this threat now, but as your friend and brother I’d tell you to stay as far away from Sanctuary as possible” Itherael exhaled, he was sitting in his chair now, looking at her filled with worry. Her brother did not elaborate further. It had been a long time since Itherael had confided his findings with the rest of the council, there was a period of time where he believed he’s outgrown his use once they discovered humanity’s destiny could not be written, she insisted for many years this was a good thing, but it took him many years for him to understand.
“So we wait for the web to close around us?” she asked dryly
“I don’t know” he went back to his document “that’s all I had to say” he murmured.
The words struck her harder than she expected.
She had always thought of him as unshakable. The one who had a plan, a path, an answer. But now, he had nothing to offer her. No certainty, no comfort.
As if fate alone would fix this.
“We tell none of this to Imperius” she said in a voice more fitting of a leader than the one she used to lead choir.
Itherael had always kept her secrets and now the unity of the council ironically stood in keeping the tiny peace they had. Imperius had never been an ally to humanity, in the fragile mental state he was in now, he would only see this as a betrayal.
Auriel rose from her seat, feeling the weight of it all settle onto her wings. They carried behind her heavier than usual. With her gone her duties would fall onto the Archangel of Fate, they could not leave Heaven leaderless, not when Imperius was not in state to take that position.
No one was coming to save them.
If Heaven would not act, if even Itherael could not guide her, then she had no choice.
She would face Mephisto herself.
- ─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•
Auriel had to be quick about this, she would not leave her people alone for long and Imperius still needed her treatment.
She opted for a subtle approach, dressed in long robes and Al’maiesh to veil her similar to a Haik, a type of clothing women from old Kehjistan would wear, trinkets and bells decorated her head and feet making a melodious sound as she walked, paired with a clothed visor to cover where her eyes would be. It was as mortal of disguise she could conjure without turning her light to flesh.
Her instinct brought her to Torajan where Mephisto had originally been sealed off beneath Travincal, and if her sources were correct he’d awaken again here as well. Auriel would just need to follow the trail of bodies from there, but she could not step near the cursed city without the Prime Evil sensing her presence.
The air was so humid she could feel it weighing down on her, sticking to her clothes.
The jungle was dense, even light had trouble piercing through the canopy leaves and remnants of a time long gone, she could not go a few steps without finding ruins of some kind.
She stumbled upon a village built around the bones of an old ruin, its people leading quiet, honest lives. Wooden paths wound between the stilt houses, raised high above the damp earth. Children darted between them, their laughter ringing the trees like chimes in the wind, unburdened by the horrors lurking beyond the walls.
Overall she’d seen more decrepit places in Sanctuary, people here at community, resilience, hope.
They looked at her with curiosity or hostility, certainly not used to the sight of strangers or foreigners
“Come, come traveller” a woman looking to sell her wares called out to her, Auriel beckoned. moved with careful grace, her robes trailingThe lady looked to be selling some sort of jade charms, carved with the images of idols.
“Talisman’s of the spirits, miss, carved by my own hand” she said with pride,“You won’t find anything like it in any of the neighboring tribes my friend” They were quite beautiful she had to admit, as she watched it glister in the daylight.
Auriel regarded the talisman. The craftsmanship crude, but inbued with meaning. It had the image of a lion carved in its center, drawn in the common style of the culture, symmetric and caricaturesque, yet undeniably beautiful.
“It is said the prophet Akarat took the image of a lion, is it not?” she asked, running her fingers over the smooth jade.
The woman smiled knowingly “Ah, you must be one of the faithful,” she said, leaning in slightly. “A pilgrim, yes?”
Auriel tilted her head, letting the assumption linger.
“I’ve heard the whispers, I had to see it for myself”
The woman took it as confirmation. “You are not alone, traveler. The faithful are gathering, but I’m afraid you are too late, I’ve heard he has left for Lut Gholein or Caldeum, er… the sayings vary” It seemed an obvious course of action now that she thought about it, there stood the vestiges of the Zakarum church, but Auriel was surprised he had not lingered in Nahantu enough time, not when this place had caused him so many problems.
Auriel let the woman's words settle before speaking again, tilting her head as if considering. "If the prohept has returned, why have you not followed him?"
The woman smiled, as though she had been expecting the question. "We are humble folk, traveler. Our faith does not demand we chase after grandeur or power. Our faith does not waver because we do not walk at his side, that is for the priests in Kehjistan, for the grand temples and those who seek to wield faith like a scepter."
Auriel remained silent, letting her continue.
"Akarat himself taught that faith should be lived, not paraded. He walked alone in his time, not because he was unworthy of followers, but because he chose not to be followed." She sighed wistfully, running her fingers over the jade talismans, the woman let out a sigh “Ah but I do not blame you desert folk, he is hard not to love and we are in desperate need of a Saint these days”
She let out a quiet breath, a sound lost beneath the distant chatter of the village. It is enough to know he is returned.
Auriel thought she’d heard enough. She reached into her robes and pulled out a gold coin, pressing it into the artisan’s palm. It was likely useless to them in trade, but gold could always be melted down, reshaped into something new, something of worth. The merchant mumbled a blessing in Akarat’s name and she tucked the talisman into a pocket, she let her fingers linger on the carved surface for just a moment before turning away. A trinket to remember this place by, if it too fell to ruin.
She had a lead now and would travel towards Kehjistan not as a pilgrim but as a reckoning.
Before leaving there was something else that unsettled her. Amidst the calm of the village there was something else the villagers lived with, or at least chose to ignore.
The stench of rot and corruption led her to it.
A house, rotted from the inside out, its wooden beams blackened with creeping infestation. Mold festered in thick veins across its walls and inside was the suppurate of corruption that plagued many of Nahantu's grounds lingered here. Tendrils and tumors of black and red oozing with infestation had latched themselves onto this house.
Mephisto had passed through here or at least the stone had.
Auriel turned to the nearest villager, a fisherman repairing his nets by the water’s edge. "What happened here?"
The man looked up to adress the veiled figure "Better to ask who happened here."
"Who?" she pressed on
"A girl wandered through here a few weeks past. Left that in her wake." He gestured toward the decayed house with a tilt of his head. "No one wants to get close enough to clean it. No one’s sure if they should ."
“She?” A quiet dread settled in her chest. Auriel had been told Mephisto’s Vessel was the man Akarat, but if this girl had passed through first… that meant she had carried the stone, bonded with it and lived long enough to pass it down to their Saint.
That disturbed her, that the girl might’ve betrayed her own god.
The fisherman finally looked up at her, squinting. "Small little thing. Looked very… disturbed”
It made no sense, yet it did. “Any idea where she might have gone?” she inquired.
The fisherman paused, eyeing her carefully before shaking his head. "You’re not the first to ask, lady. Eru, one of our spiritborn elders, came looking for her too and those cathedral knights as well, but that was weeks ago…she is all trouble if you ask me”
Auriel nodded, feeling the weight of the village’s ambivalence toward this matter. The clues were stacking up, but with them came more uncertainty. Villager tales could sometimes be vague and be based more in rumors and fear than facts, still it was all she had.
"Thank you," she said, her voice clipped as she turned to leave, her thoughts already racing ahead to the jungle, the ruins, and what waited for her there.
- ─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•
Auriel always thought fate worked in strange ways, she’d spent enough time with Itherael to know he was somewhat enamoured by it
Auriel had not intended in seeking out the girl, in her eyes the chance that she might’ve been like any of the wanderers was too great. She already knew where Mephisto was headed, she needed nothing else.
But fate had other plans.
"What do you think you are doing?" an accusatory voice called out. She recognized her on sight by the lingering mark of corruption she carried, visible too, as it crept up the side of her neck, Auriel noticed even as the girl tried to hide it. She was young as they’d said with an axe on one hand and a severed stub on the other. Auriel been caught rummaging through their makeshift camp in the jungle, old tomes and scattered pages laid out over a fallen tree, repurposed as a table. Not unimportant things, either, this was research and of the demonic kind. "And where did you get that?"the girl further pressed to the intruder.
Auriel made a small sound of suprise, then followed the girl's gaze. She’d decorated her head with a headdress that held her veil in place, unassuming at first but there dangled a Soradric symbol, a thing of silver and gold, similar to the Horadric seal.
“This old thing?” Auriel twirled the ornament through her fingers, then unclasped it in a smooth motion, tossing it towards the girl. She caught it awkwardly, almost stumbling back in the effort.
She turned the piece over in her hand, her expression darkening “What is this? Are you Horadrim?”
“The Horadrim are gone” She could not think of the order surviving without Tyrael and they had not, as far as Itherael had told her “I’m more of friend of a friend”
“So you’re a thief?” she spat
Auriel laughed at that, soft and unbothered. "No.” She stepped closer, slowly and gracefully, towering over the girl but making no move to intimidate. Instead, she reached out, guiding her fingers to the finer engravings on the symbol’s surface. In its center it had the image of the inverted moon and star that was associated with her followers “Look closer” The girl brows furrowing. "It's so similar...almost angelic" the girl murmured.
But Auriel’s attention was no longer solely on her. She was studying the girl, truly looking at her for the first time. The veins near her wrist had a sickly tint and she could see part of her neck was black, but it looked faint, more like a bruise, than active corruption. Her fingers instinctively went to move her collar aside when she felt an intruder piercing his eyes through her back.
“Who is this Neyrelle?”
“Is this your keeper?” She asked turning her head towards him
“Varyan look!” The girl, Neyrelle, ran to him to show him the small trinket.
“And who are you supposed to be?” he asked.
Auriel did not answer immediately. She was still watching Neyrelle. The way she stood, weight shifted slightly back, but not out of fear. A calculated distance. As if she were ready to run.
This was a girl who trusted no one.
“I am merely a traveler” Auriel said at last, her voice composed. “Much like yourselves”
The man narrowed his eyes. “You carry relics of the Horadrim, but you claim no ties to them?”
“I claim nothing” She said unbothered “Though it seems you’ve been seeking their knowledge.” she looked over to the scattered tomes that lay in the camp.
Neyrelle’s grip on her axe tightened, but her voice remained guarded. “What of it?”
Auriel took a slow step closer, her tone soft, as though trying to ease the space between them “No need for hostility between us. We both have our questions and I’m not lacking for answers” she could understand why someone who’d dealt with the evils would be distrustful but even her patience sometimes ran thin. “The evils have had many vessels over the years, none of them survived, if anything they met ends worse than death, but here you are with barely a scratch”
“I wouldn’t call it a scratch” Neyrelle mumbled “How do you know that?” Neyrelle’s voice was low, almost a growl.
“I see it in you,” she said simply. As if trying to coax the truth from the girl without forcing it “The touch of Hell does not fade so easily.” Neyrelle’s fingers brushed against the scars on her neck, heat rising to her cheeks, embarrased that her curse had been so obvious to her, followed by a distant gaze that betreyed she was trying to suppress a memory.
Tears were starting to well up on her eyes, Auriel almost felt bad, she was but a girl, and it did not take too much thought for her to piece together what she might've endured. Neyrelle exhaled sharply and finally signaled to her companion, a silent command that made him retreat as she began to organize the camp into a small semblance of order.
“Tea?” the man asked his tone neutral, Auriel politely refused. She lowered herself onto a nearby rock, legs bound together, hands resting lightly in her lap, her presence composed.
Neyrelle did not sit. She stood across from her, arms crossed, stilled uneased as if waiting to dart off “We’ll ask our questions first. Who are you?”
“That is not the question you should be asking but if necessary, you may adress me as hanımefendi” it was not as much of a name and more of a title, a way to adress a woman from Kehjistan.
Varyan seemed to have cought on and looked unimpressed.
“My turn” she countered before they could say anything else "you've met Mephisto?”
The air shifted. Neyrelle’s face darkened, her grip on her arms tightening. She glanced at her companion, as if weighing how much to say.
“We fought the wolf” the man answered first, his voice carefully measured ”Neyrelle here is more acquainted with having him in her mind” He looked at his companion, the girl had distance in her eyes Auriel could not reach, as if recalling a terrible memory.
“I carried the stone” she looked away “It almost tore me apart”
“Yet here you are. You must’ve had help”
“Akarat and… many others” that made more sense.
“Is that why he is in possession of the prophet now?” she demanded, they both snapped their heads at her
“You know? No one believes us”
Auriel nodded, and they continued to speak of how they brought the soul stone into Akarat’s tomb and were betrayed in the end. Auriel assessed them carefully taking into account each and every one of their words, Auriel listened carefully, weighing their every word, searching for cracks in their story.
She found none.
She did not detect malice in their intentions, just foolishness. Trapping the Lord of Hate into a soulstone was reckless enough but carrying the stone alone for weeks was on another level of stupidity.
Still, what was done was done.
“Mephisto will still need to prove his worth, there is still time” Auriel picked up a stick to draw a map on the dirt
“Time for what?”
Auriel glanced up, her voice utterly calm. “To kill him of course” The camp fell silent even the crickets stopped chirping.
“You do know, he is in possession of the strongest spirit born out there” Varyan said after a beat, his voice edged with incredulity “not to mention he has followers to protect him and they would hunt us to the ends of Sanctuary”
Auriel smiles “You need not worry about such things” they still looked at her dumbfounded. “May I have my pendant back?” She asked Neyrelle who still had it tightly clasped in her hand, her knuckles pale against the tarnished gold. Neyrelle hesitated, then slowly extended her hand. Auriel’s fingers closed around the metal, warm from the girl’s grip.
Auriel held the trinket in her hand and threw it in the air, the chain twirling into something elongated and beautiful pulsing with energy
She caught as it fell down, lightly twirling through her hands.
It was no Solarion, if anything it was very modest for an angelic weapon before resting most of its weight into her shoulders and finally pointing with the hilt towards the two companions
"You—" Neyrelle started, then stopped herself, eyes darting between the weapon and the woman holding it.
“I’ll be blunt” Auriel balanced the spear effortlessly over her shoulders, her tone light but unwavering “I don’t need your help.” she twirled her spear one last time before it transformed back to her pendant, clasping it back to her veil “But fate has already brought us together, it would be a waste not to take this opportunity”
- ─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•
The days that followed were filled with Neyrelle’s incessant questioning and Auriel’s vague answers. It wasn’t completely untrue, she was not as familiar with Tyrael’s little band as the girl though.
Despite the secrecy, they had agreed on a course of action. The pair suggested seeking out a mercenary group they were familiar with, and so their path wound deeper into the jungle.
Auriel would not admit they slowed her down. Mortal travel was tedious, and yet she found herself distracted by Sanctuary itself. It had been centuries since her last visit, and despite all its suffering, the world was still beautiful. Every new creature, every unfamiliar plant, held a quiet wonder.
Neyrelle pondered as they cut through the foliage, her eyes scanning her movements “You walk like noble” Neyrelle said, her tone more curious than accusing.
“And how do nobles walk?” Auriel found the girl's antics amused her more than irritated her.
“Like their feet never touch the ground”
Auriel laughed, the sound almost as beautiful as the chimes that adorned her, if only you knew.
They two mortals came to a stop before them was the corpse of a knight in spiked armor, quietly propped up by a tree. Maggots crawling in the cracks of the metal and the remains chewed by the teeth of scavengers. It had been days since death claimed it. There was no sign of a violent death, but the jungle had done its work, stripping the body of its dignity.
Auriel waited till the body was out of sight before asking “Someone you knew?”
“No” Neyrelle replied quickly, but the bitterness in her voice lingered. “But the Cathedral chased us all the way here from Kyovashad, looking for ‘retribution’” contempt and hate brewed in her voice “They left a trail of charred corpses in their wake”
“The Cathedral?” Auriel echoed, her interest piqued.
Varyan shot her a glance. “You’re with the Horadrim, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you know this?”
"I never said I was with the Horadrim" said Auriel.
Neyrelle exhaled, shaking her head as she continued. “Inarius. He led his army through Caldeum, straight into Hell, to kill Lilith.” Her voice was filled with contempt “Out of thousands, only two came back.”
Auriel’s steps slowed. She had known nothing of this. The gates of Heaven had remained shut, no whispers, no warnings of the war waged below. And yet, she kept the thought close. To these mortals, the truth of Heaven’s silence was not theirs to hold.
“Inarius is dead.” The words left her before she could stop them, a question veiled as a statement. She had heard rumors of his return, but nothing of his death. The implication in their account was clear, yet it only left her with more questions.
Neyrelle and Varyan exchanged a look. “You didn’t know?” Varyan asked, his brows furrowing.
Auriel hesitated. “I had only heard whispers.”
"You really don’t get out much, do you?" said Varyan jokingly but it was true, the gates of Heaven had been sealed, little got in or out. It was only because of her position as a high ranking angel that she allowed herself this forbidden luxury.
They continued their journey, and soon the jungle opened up to reveal a place her companions called ‘The Den.’ It was hidden deep beneath the canopy, nestled within the ruins of an ancient structure. She keenly observed every detail. The stone passageways leading them deeper into the earth, the cavern seeming to plunge into an abyss she could not yet see. The air here felt different, thick with the smell of damp stone and the lively precence of those who called it home.
“Welcome back” voice greeted them as they entered, the giant man spreading his arms wide, a grin on his face. “And I see you’ve brought a visitor.” His tone was warm, but his eyes studied her with a quiet curiosity.
Auriel took slow, measured steps behind the others, observing her surroundings. Though the hideout was massive it was too big for the amount of occupants it held. She did not mind, the angel was in no need of a big group. She could sense the bonds between these people; they were survivors. An archer, dressed in muted leathers, cast her a curious glance as she passed, while an old barbarian woman was hunched over a boar, her axe cleaving through its carcass with ease. But it was something in the corner of her eye that caught her attention
A child hid in the shadows clutching a toy in its arms, a hint of horns reflected in the little light the place received, he must’ve recognized her angelic nature for he sneered at her, demons were more perceptive to these type of things
The Wanderer had noticed the child too. He eyed the little figure warily, his posture subtly shifting as if preparing to intervene if things went awry. Auriel could see the doubt in his eyes. He had no reason to believe she was anything other than like the rest of her kin, those who would strike down demons at the slightest hint of their presence.
She raised a hand to ease the tension in the air “It’s alright” She reassured both the man and the khazra crossbreed. “I have not come here to couse trouble” not in here at least.
The giant man’s smile faltered, but he nodded, clearly trusting her. The child, however, stayed hidden in the corner, his gaze locked on her with a mixture of curiosity and wariness.
The ground was carved in the style of many of Nahantu’s temples and in its center was a small table where scrolls and maps lay.
They settled into a loose circle, an unspoken truce hanging between.
The wanderer and Neyrelle explained their plan to seek out Mephisto
“That is quite the task you ask of us my friend” said the man named Raheir stroking his chin
“I know but we need to make this right” Varyan spoke with confidence but she could tell doubt gnawed at him like the hound that howls in the night “My friend here assuress us it can be done” he turned to look at Auriel.
She felt the weight of their stares, the skepticism, the desperation. They wanted reassurance, a promise that this battle would not be futile, but she could offer no such thing. Heaven had abandoned Sanctuary long ago, and now they stood on the precipice of a war no one was ready to fight.
Before she could speak, a voice cut through the tension.
“She’s just gonna use you” the voice of the child in the shadows interfered far more raspy and edged with something unmistakably demonic. “Angels just see humans as demon spawn” he was out of the shadows now circling around the group like an animal, his eyes fixed on her.
The room went stilled after the revelation.
“Angel?”
She did not answer, instead she approached the demon child with a slow grace her chimes ringing out in a melody that could not just be possible by her gentle strut. Her robes, light as woven mist, billowed behind her, and Al’maiesh drifted around her in slow, weightless arcs, like petals on an unseen current.
The child tried to cower but found itself paralyzed, he flinched when Auriel reached to touch his cheeks, at her touch his demonic features started to soften, his eyes took on warm brown and the veins that coated his neck started to disappear.
Auriel cupped his small face gently, her touch impossibly light yet unyielding. The weight of her presence settled over him. Something he could not understand.
“You’ve been through much, but you are not just what the world has made you” Auriel turned from the child to he mercenaries, her presence seeming to fill the space, vast and unfathomable. The chimes of Al’maiesh whispered through the silence, carrying something weightier than sound, a resonance that pressed against the souls of those present, filling them with hope and with the pressure of the angel present. Silence fell. They had suspected, perhaps, that she was something more than she claimed, but now the truth stood before them, undeniable.
She turned towards the group “The demon child is right, I have not come to save you” She admitted, it was true that although she had grown fond of this place, Auriel’s true intentions were to save Heaven from the foreseeable onslaught “I will do what I must and send Mephisto back to hell myself; you can choose to follow me knowing the cost. But do not do so blindly”
She let the words settle, let them feel the weight of them. “Blind faith is what led Inarius’ followers to their deaths. They believed themselves chosen, protected. And so they marched into ruin, convinced that devotion alone would shield them. It did not” She recalled the event as Neyrelle told her.
Subo’s fingers flexed at his side, not reaching for his bow but not straying far either. The archer’s sharp eyes flicked from Auriel to Aldkin and back again, as if recalculating the measure of this strange alliance. Varyana, the butcher, stood with her arms crossed over her broad chest, expression difficult to read beneath the bloodstains still fresh on her armor. She was a woman of action, not words, but even she seemed caught in hesitation.
They talked amongst themselves, Auriel kept her fair distance from them but even in their hushed whispers they could not avoid her ears, not to a being made of sound.
“We are marching onto our deaths” said Subo
“We march onto our deaths anyway if we let Mephisto’s control fester” countered Neyrelle dryly
“She said she doesn’t need us. We might be overestimating our worth… or underestimating hers.” Varyan tried to make sense of Auriel’s words.
“Then why are we going?!” exasperated Neyrelle pacing from side to side frustration boiling over.
“These are our mistakes! We freed Mephisto and now we are letting him wander among us. How long before everything burns because we hesitated?” No longer was Varyan whispering, the guilt of what happened clawed at him; she could feel it.
Varyana let out a loud scoff. “Stop thinking too damn much” She slammed a fist into her palm. “We fight. We win. Or we die. That’s it. Too much talking here”
“There's a reason angels don’t come down to Sanctuary, they could not give less of a damn about us! Where were they when Lilith was wreaking havoc?” said Neyrelle.
Aldkin had curled up near the fire’s edge, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees. He shivered, not from the cold, but from something deeper, something that gnawed at his small frame like a sickness. “I don’t want to go,” he whispered.
Varyana shot a glance at him, exasperated. "Stop snuffle, demon.”
Aldkin flinched, but before he could say anything, Varyan stepped in. “He’s just a kid, Varyana.”
Then Raheir, who had been listening quietly, exhaled and spoke. His voice was calm but firm, like a man who had seen enough war to know that choices were rarely clean.
“Because if we don’t stand against him, who will?” He looked at them each in turn, letting the question settle. “We have a chance now, with the wandered and her" his head turned towards the angel in the corner "And I’ll be damned if I let Fayira inherit a world ruled by that monster.”
Varyana nodded. Aldkin sniffled but didn’t argue. He wasn’t strong enough to fight, and he wasn’t brave enough to run.
Their fate was sealed. Not because they had faith in Auriel. Not even because they believed in themselves.
But because they had nowhere else to turn.
"Alright hanimifendi, you have a deal.” said Raheir gathering his things and turning towards Auriel, his eyes glistening with hope that filled her with pride. "Let's get moving then, Caldeum is not far"
To Caldeum it was then.
