Disclaimer: I don't own anything in the Darksiders franchise.

Warning: Yaoi inc in later chapters. Rated T for now but will go up to M later.

This story was born from a burning question: what ever happened to the Rod of Arafel after you defeat the Archon in DS2?
I was so obsessed with the mystery that after watching the cutscene over and over, I can clearly distinguish the rod being in the Archon's hand when Death first impales him Harvester, and the next frame, when he rams it in again, it's gone. One frame to the next. Gone. o_o
This is my take on that story arc after the end of DS2. It's my first fanfic, so I hope you enjoy :D

Lostlight

Chapter 1

A lone figure trudged on the parched and blackened ground, stepping over the frequent cracks in the earth that boiled over with lava. The rhythmic clank of metal and bone links in his armor adding to the monotonous footfalls of the heavy leather boots. Pale grey skin on a bare torso danced with the illumination of both fire and embers that made it look a hue that seemed almost, almost alive. The sporadic updrafts of warm volcanic air tousled the violet rags that hung from his waist while two crescent scythes hung at each hip, swinging to the tedious rhythm of his tireless steps.

He purposely avoided thinking how long he had walked, or wondering how much longer he would have to continue to walk. Thinking about such things would have only irritated him more than he was already, and quite frankly he felt he was too tired to even bother losing his temper. He knew he would arrive when they deemed he should and not a moment before.

So instead he occupied his mind being irritated at this summoning having come too soon. Much too soon. He would have gladly gone another thousand years without having to hear from the Charred Council. Well, yes, maybe a thousand years was far too much wishful thinking given that practically all of Creation was in turmoil after what happened on Earth. It was to be expected that they would call upon him soon. But surely a few days to recover was not too much to ask?

-No rest for the wicked- Death thought bitterly as he crossed the barren landscape of the Council's domain, glancing up once at the empty horizon. He had never been one to need much in the way of rest, but even he had to admit his recent travails had knocked much out of him. It wasn't so much a weakness of the body he felt, but a weariness of the soul. He knew his brother War was in a similar enough state. Both of them had undergone quite the ordeal in their own rights, ordeals that had in parallel, even ended in both their deaths, and, as fate would have it, in both of their coming back to life but a few moments later, with the breaking of the final Seal. If that didn't take some sort of toll on a soul, Death wasn't sure what did.

He rode now with the full power of the Seven Seals at his back. Or that at least is what the scriptures said. Yet Death noted somberly, that he felt no stronger, not the least bit more powerful, he only felt drained, numb and utterly sick of it all.

The constant warring between Heaven and Hell seemed to him petty now. The only thing to have come out of the squabble was the utter destruction of a whole realm and the extinction of an entire race. He could not help but think he himself had done both and on many occasion, when he had ridden at the front of the nephilim horde, but he and his brothers had abandoned such agendas many eons ago, sickened by all the pointless destruction they had wrought. Indeed, all of Creation seemed to enjoy pointing fingers at his slaughtered brethren for the murder of so many worlds. Yet if what his brother War had told him was true, angels and demons had just done the same, and neither seemed to care much, neither seemed to own up to their hand in it. It made him sick.

He thought back to what little War had managed to tell him when he arrived by his side. The last things he recalled was being enveloped by the light blue haze of the Well of Souls, floating, drifting. Then, falling. Falling through the skies of the world, wreathed in purple flames. He didn't register the impact, but he remembered kneeling in the center of a huge crater when his vision cleared. Then a huge metal gauntleted hand being offered to him, palm up. He felt himself smile with relief as he took it and was hauled to his feet, to be immediately crushed in a tight embrace. He would never have confessed to a living soul, that had it not been for his brother's hand, he wasn't sure he would have been able to stand without stumbling feebly.

He knew not where were his siblings Strife and Fury were, had not known what to say to War when he asked about them and the younger Rider clad in crimson had scowled deeply. Death had silently rejoiced at seeing his brother alive and well, but this troubled look now gave him pause.

Then two swirling portals had opened up before them, and the Council's voices had spoken in their heads, giving War his new assignment, and giving Death the summons to appear before them with a tone that left no room for arguing as to the immediacy of the order.

War's face had gone stiff and he had clenched his jaw tight. "I thought we'd have more time..." he had muttered under his breath.

"What's...?"

"Brother" War broke in, speaking hurriedly, eyes boring intently into Death's own "Know there is some great conspiracy underfoot... the angels set this off. Abaddon, the Destroyer, had been scheming with demons. And... with Azrael." he seemed reluctant to give the name, "Though he has done more than most to rectify the wrongs. However guilty, I feel we can trust him. This is far bigger than you or me, we will need the help. I don't know who else is involved" War had shaken his head.

"War? What is all this?" Death had been alarmed at the tone of his normally impassive brother, trying to make sense of the incoherent stream of information.

"The Council knew Death! They knew I was not to blame. They knew everything!" he snarled "Watch what you say to the Council, they are not to be trusted".

And then his vision had clouded in the swirling streams of the teleportation spell, the feel of his brother's hands clasped about his shoulders had faded, and he had arrived here, in this blasted realm of liquid fire and the blackened expanse of dirt he now trudged across.

War's few words, while not enough for Death to piece together what his brother had really learnt, had been enough for him to suspect that this abrupt summons had been intended specifically so that the both of them could not have discussed anything. He would have to keep his suspicions to himself when he spoke to the Council though, there was no sense in stirring that hornet's nest without substantial proof, or without a real means to do anything about it should it all prove true. And he knew his brother enough to know his suspicions would indeed prove true. He would not have voiced them to him otherwise. It was only a matter of time.

At least he was being summoned to the Council directly, where he hoped he could get direct answers. He could only imagine how mad War must be right about now at his far lesser assignment. "I have faced down the armies of Heaven's finest, Hell's champions, defeated The Destroyer himself, and now they're sending me to play referee in a minor skirmish that will all but have dissolved the moment I make my presence known?" He smiled in spite of himself as he imagined War's grumbling going a little something like that. And his brother would not be wrong of course.

A sudden gust of hot air wafted by his face as he passed a volcanic vent, tousling his long raven hair sending unruly strands in front of his eyes. He absently brushed them aside, and was slightly startled at feeling his own skin beneath his finger tips. He knew he was not wearing his bone mask of course, but it's funny how easily he forgot. He had worn it for such a long time, millennia in fact, ever since he became executioner to his own people, without even a thought to removing it, he barely recalled a time when he hadn't worn it.

"It's been so long since I've seen you without that piece of bone you call a mask brother" War had commented as he pulled apart from their tight embrace, but a few moments ago, back on Earth. "I had forgotten how alike we look" his brother had smiled warmly at him.

"I'm still the better looking of the two though" Death had replied in stride and they had both laughed. He smiled now at the recollection.

He knew it was in his mind only, but he felt strangely naked without his mask, uncomfortably vulnerable and the feeling nagged at him annoyingly. Whatever had possessed him to drop it carelessly onto the hands of the Crowfather those last moments before he jumped into the Well of Souls? His belief that he was not coming back from this one? Probably. Damn it. Damn all of this. Damn it all to Oblivion.

His foot hit stone instead of soot and he knew he had arrived. The very first step of a set of stairs lay beneath his boot, having seemingly come out of nowhere. As he set a foot on the second step he halted, hearing a flutter of wings and a soft caw from high above, a call he would recognize anywhere. Dust dove frantically from the air to land on his shoulder in a swirling mess of black feathers. Some of his discomfort seeped away in puzzled amusement as the bird jumped around excitedly on his shoulder and pressed his forehead to the side of Death's face in a gesture of affection he had never seen in Dust before, or any crow for that matter.

"Well I'm certainly glad to see you too, old friend" he put a heavy palm on the bird's back to make it stand still, feeling the connection of the feral mind link with his own again. He hadn't even known he missed it until now. -At least some things are returning to normal- he thought and proceeded to climb the stone steps leading up to the council room.

"Death" a booming voice stated simply acknowledging his arrival, and in the process, startling the crow at his shoulder, who proceeded to make himself scarce, flying up to a jagged rock outcropping overlooking the room. -Yes, back to normal indeed- Death scowled after his coward of a companion as he climbed the last few steps to reach the platform of smooth rock that stood surrounded by lava before the three stone effigies of rock and spewing fire that were the Charred Council. He faced all three and bowed respectfully. He would not make his apprehensions known. Not yet.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Death" the head on the right spoke and Death had no idea whether the bad pun was intended, but was not foolish enough to ask. He had never known the Council to jest, but he felt mocked nonetheless. Yet he held his silence, with a face as devoid of expression as he could muster. Again he thought, this would have been all the easier had he still had his mask, intended for just this purpose.

"We followed your exploits closely and with great interest, Horseman" the left most effigy continued.

-Followed... and not intervened, much less aided- Death noted in his head, irritation flowering anew, but he continued to face the Council impassively.

"We must commend you on your actions: You freed the souls of Mankind and brought them back from extinction, as well as ended a threat to the Balance by slaying Corruption. We know it must have cost you to slay your own brother twice..."

His fists clenched involuntarily. -calm yourself-

"We cannot help but note, however, that you rode without instructions from your Masters"

-Here we go-

"But as your actions have only been in favor of the Balance and have had no negative impact as of yet, we feel that reprimanding you for this would only serve to waste time and resources. We can spare neither in these times"

-What? Just like that?- he raised an eyebrow before he could stop himself.

"However..."

-That's more like it-

"We are concerned at the loss of a certain angelic weapon you came in contact with..."

That, he didn't expect. "An angelic weapon?" He finally spoke up frowning.

"Yes Horseman. You yourself pieced it together when you, without sanction, travelled to Earth" the left most stone head sounded accusing.

"So you didn't miss that, huh? I was hoping to have slipped in and out unnoticed" Death shrugged, trying not to smirk.

"We have many informants in many realms. You must have known it would be known to us eventually" This from the right.

"At ease Horseman, as we have said, your transgression in this matter will be overlooked given the positive outcome of your intervention..." left continued.

"The Rod of Arafel!" proclaimed the center effigy in what seemed like the deafening grinding of rocks, apparently growing impatient with the detour in conversation.

"It is a most powerful weapon," agreed the right most head. "Capable of destroying Corruption on a grand scale. A weapon this powerful should not have been lost. We cannot hazard it falling into the wrong hands."

"If its greatest power is to clear Corruption, how dangerous can it be? Whatever hands it falls into"

"Indeed. But alas, it is not it's greatest. It is an instrument of Light, of Life. The broken pieces of it when hidden on Earth, were what was used to give un-life to the corpses of dead. Its innate power twisted for a dark purpose."

"Alright, so it should not be wielded by Hell." Death conceded, "But if the staff is angelic in nature, should it not go to the White City? What harm could it be put to if it is an instrument of Life and Light?"

"In most other circumstances we would be able to trust the White City to keep to The Law and not abuse such power. But the Shattering of the Third Kingdom has sparked open hostilities across many realms. To destroy the darkness that the demonic realms thrive on, would be all too simple, and so, all too tempting."

"Almost all realms were struck by Corruption. Some were struck violently like the Black Stone and the Ivory Citadel which you saw for yourself. But the rest of Hell was also touched and so was Heaven. Corruption crept up on these realms silently but inexorably. After the Shattering of the Third Kingdom, both factions have intensified their conflict, small skirmishes up until now, but if before they were hoping to go unnoticed, neither side seems to shy from open hostilities now." The center effigy seemed almost patient as it explained.

"So send me to beat Heaven and Hell back into submission! Not on some pickup errand!" Death felt his temper rise and forced his voice level again "Shouldn't War be here? He learned firsthand of the angel's treason, he mentioned that Abaddon was himself betrayed by a demon. Shouldn't our efforts be focused finding out who else is plotting behind the Council's back? Shouldn't we be using this incident to crush both realm's ideas of betrayal and back into abidance of the Law?"

"We don't have to explain our actions to you." the stressing of the first word made known to Death that his 'we' included one person too many. "Yet, we tell you that this is being dealt with. On our time, by our methods. War will be called here shortly, we are indeed very interested in what he has to report. Balance has been lost, and restoring it means rooting out all involved in this treachery. It is most definitely our most important endeavor."

With a sinking feeling in his gut Death decided this was in fact worse. He had thought the Council was doing nothing about this possible Heaven-Hell conspiracy. Now he found that they were, they were just not putting him on the job. Death, last remaining Firstborn of the nephilim, most powerful and feared of the Four, was not their choice. Maybe he was not their most trusted Rider, but certainly their most able. Instead he was being given an assignment that seemed suspiciously like something to occupy him with while they talked to War alone. Damn all of this. He felt the sensation of apathy and tedium creep up on him again. He wanted no part in this. Let all factions of Creation tear themselves to pieces, he cared not.

"Right now, the recovery of the Rod of Arafel is paramount. Even if it seems otherwise to you" the cavernous mouth on the right continued. "So far Heaven and Hell have been held back by the bulk of their forces being occupied on the home front by the lingering Corruption, but whatever faction wrestles free from what plagues them first, will be in a prime position to launch a full scale attack on the other. No such advantage must be allowed to either one."

"You lost the weapon in Lostlight. Angel territory. Which makes it all the more likely that angels will try to get a hold of it first." the center head boomed accusing.

"Hold on,... I lost it? I never intended to secure the damn thing!" Death protested "it was collateral."

"True. But you could have retrieved the weapon once you had defeated the Archon, and you did not. Granted, you did not know what you had, but it was careless to simply forget the staff once you had the key you had come for, and most certainly after seeing what it could do."

Death bridled at that, he could not argue with this fault, and his sore pride took a new blow at realizing his oversight. He had not even thought about the rod when he rammed Harvester into the Archon's back. Hadn't even bothered to look where it might have fallen. It had given him so much trouble on Earth finding it's pieces and putting it back together, and yet it was true he had not even given thought to it until now. He clenched his jaw and furrowing his brow he nodded.

"Horseman, you are to go back to Lostlight, and secure the Rod of Arafel." the center effigy spoke formally issuing the Council's command. "We do not know that the angels know of its reappearance at the Ivory Citadel, but it is possible the White City has already dispatched troops to secure it. You are to stop at nothing to ensure the Rod comes into our custody. We have been lenient so far, but fail us in this, and all your unsanctioned actions will be called into question. Leave now, and make haste, Rider".

Death forced himself to bow respectfully once more, acknowledging his commanded task and checking his temper. -Not a word- He told himself -no matter how strange this all seems, you can't afford to do anything foolish before consulting with War-. Turning on his heels he walked purposefully towards the steps leading down to the barren plains.

"One more thing, Horseman"

-by the Abyss, what now?- Planting a neutral expression on his features he turned to regard the Council once more.

"There is another object you have also lost, but this misplacement was easily remedied. It was sent back to us from the Kingdom of the Dead" The left most cavernous mouth spoke. "Approach".

Burning with curiosity, he did as he was bid. He glanced up at where Dust was perched, silently he questioned the bird -You got anything to do with this?- and in response the crow fluttered down from his perch to his shoulder with the tiniest of caws.

He stopped just before the pool of lava that separated the platform and the three stone effigies. Looking down, the burning lava receded revealing a circular patch of dry rock. And for an instant, all irritation was gone, forgotten, replaced with surprise and relief.

At his feet, in the center of that circular patch of rock floor, staring hollow eyed up at him, lay his bone mask.

End of Chapter1

Next chapter we head to Lostlight proper. And meet some old friends :)