Amor Vincit Omnia

(Love Conquers All)

Part Three: Children of Heaven

"I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real

I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liar's chair
Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair

What have I become?
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know
Goes away in the end

And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt."
- Nine Inch Nails
"Hurt"
(Lyrics adjusted to the Johnny Cash version)

Hello, my dear readers! Welcome, one and all, to Part Three of the series-that's-taking-way-longer-to-write-than-I-ever-thought-it-would. I must apologize for the length of time that it took me to produce this opening chapter; my well of inspiration had kinda run dry after more than two years of working nonstop on this story, so I took a two-week break to let the muse recover. Hopefully you're all still waiting and interested. :)

By now, you all know what to expect from this story, so I won't give any warning right up front, though I will caution you that there's a somewhat steamy scene in the later part of this chapter. ;) If you're picking up this story for the first time, I strongly advise you to go and slog through the previous two installments, since I have made a lot of changes to the canon of the storyline.

I hope you all enjoy! Reviews are greatly appreciated, especially in this early stage. Thank you all for reading!

-Dr. Kitten

Chapter One: O'er Her Heart a Shadow

"I'm worried about Saiya."

Ghor looked up from the pot of stew she was stirring, her expression passive as she regarded Caesar out of jet-black eyes. The wizard shifted uncomfortably under her steady gaze; when she looked at him like that, he always felt as though she could see into his very soul.

"Ever since Baal left, she barely eats or sleeps, let alone talking with anyone. If she continues on this way-"

"Yes?" Ghor said quietly when he stopped.

"I'm afraid she might kill herself," he murmured. "Oh, not deliberately, but just through self-neglect. It's like she's given up the will to live."

Ghor nodded, but her face had grown vague and distant, and Caesar was unsure whether she was actually agreeing with him, or just responding automatically. Frowning, he leaned over and placed his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look at him again.

"Are you paying any attention to what I'm saying?" he demanded.

"My apologies, rafiki," the witch doctor replied, a flash of guilt in her tone. "My thoughts had strayed somewhat."

He ran a weary hand over his face, feeling stressed. "What is the matter with you lately? Don't think I haven't noticed you acting odd. Do you know something about Saiya that I don't?"

"I know nothing," said Ghor.

Caesar stared at her. There was definitely something wrong with his friend. She'd always possessed a solitary nature, but since the battle with Belial, she'd grown positively reclusive. So far, he had hesitated to mention it, not wanting to pry into her personal business, but he was beginning to worry.

"Hey," he said, "you know you can always talk to me, right? About anything."

She opened her mouth, and for a brief instant he thought she might be about to confide in him, but sudden footsteps caused both of them to startle. Caesar looked around to see Lyndon stepping through the thick brush that screened their camp. He scowled, and the rogue waved cheerily in return, depositing an armload of firewood.

"Beautiful evening, isn't it?" he said.

"Lovely," Caesar drawled, turning back to Ghor. The moment had passed. He sighed, patting her on the shoulder as he rose and headed down to the creek to find Saiya. "It's a fine day," he grumbled to himself, "when bloody Lyndon is the only person around me who's acting normal."

He had been firmly against Lyndon's inclusion in their traveling party, but the two ladies had overruled him, and so for an entire month now, he'd been forced to put up with the other man's insufferable attitude. He flirted absurdly with both Saiya and Ghor (neither of whom seemed to mind, much to Caesar's consternation) and treated Caesar with casual contempt, seeming to draw great enjoyment from the wizard's obvious dislike of him.

Never once thought I'd say this, Caesar admitted to himself, but I actually miss Baal. Even when we hated each other's guts, at least our fights were interesting. Lyndon just goes out of his way to be as annoying as possible.

Even his reason for joining them had rung false. He'd claimed that a mysterious someone had hired him to deliver a certain parcel to a location in Entsteig, but Caesar had his suspicions that even Fahkri's payoff wasn't enough to save Lyndon from the Thieves Guild's wrath. He'd managed to leave behind another broken-hearted woman, too. Saiya's healer friend hadn't been very pleased when her lover announced his intent to leave. Lyndon, of course, had pledged to marry her when he returned.

Nevertheless, the rogue's presence had come in handy several times. Lut Gholein, on the coast of Aranoch, was a lawless city, peopled almost exclusively by criminals, but Lyndon knew which inns were safe for travelers and which merchants wouldn't try to scam them. On the second half of their sea voyage, skirting the coast all the way down to Kingsport (none of them were inclined to put in at Antham), he'd helped to care for Saiya, who had fallen violently ill. And his skill with a crossbow had kept them well-fed on the long stretches of empty road between towns.

The four of them were currently in the middle of the Sharval Wilds, having traveled by horseback north to Bramwell and taken a boat across the Gulf of Westmarch. Caesar had suggested a more eastern route that would bring them to New Tristram, but Saiya had insisted on heading to Ivgorod as directly as they could.

Reaching the bottom of the steep, wooded hill, Caesar was surprised to find the young monk's garments in a pile, though she was nowhere to be seen. He frowned, scanning the surrounding area. Winter was reaching out with cruel hands, and while the first snow had not yet fallen, the weather was a bit harsh for outdoor bathing. Still, he could not imagine any other reason for Saiya to shed her clothes.

Cupping his hands around his mouth, he called her name, hearing his own voice echo back to him. There was an answering cry from downstream. Rounding a large boulder, Caesar spotted a slender figure, the lines of her shape distorted by water, floating in a deep pool. Her head was tilted back, her pale hair forming a halo that undulated with the gentle current. She looked perfectly relaxed.

"Hey there," he said softly. Her eyes flew open, and he smiled reassuringly. "Sorry to bother you, but dinner's going to be done soon. I thought you'd want to know."

Saiya shook her head, scattering droplets of water. "I'm … not really hungry. But thanks anyway."

"Come on, love, you've got to eat something," he cajoled. "You didn't have more than a few bites of breakfast."

"I felt sick this morning."

Alarmed, he said, "Your fever isn't coming back, is it?" If so, that might be why she decided it was a good idea to swim naked when it's cold enough to see your breath.

"No," Saiya replied, "I don't think so. It was just a bit of nausea. It went away. I ate lunch, remember?"

"I saw you eat half a sandwich. It isn't enough, Saiya. Your body is still trying to recover from your ordeal in the desert. You can't keep starving yourself."

"Alright, fine," she sighed. "If it will please you, Caesar, I'll have as much as you like for dinner."

The wizard grinned, feeling rather accomplished. "Good girl. Would you like me to fetch your clothes, so we can return to camp?"

Instead of answering, she swam languidly over to the bank and hauled herself out of the water, crossing her arms over her bare chest and shivering. Caesar's mouth went so dry that he nearly choked. He tried very, very hard not to let his eyes stray from her face, but then she stepped past him, hopping nimbly from one rock to the next as she made her way back to where she'd left her robes, and he could not resist stealing a quick glance, which to his shame turned into open staring. Her porcelain skin, currently pebbled with goosebumps and glistening with water, was split in places by the remnants of old wounds, but he did not find them displeasing to look at. They were evidence of her survival.

A small groan worked its way out of his throat as he watched her graceful movement. Even malnourished, she was exquisite. Her legs were long and leanly muscled, her bottom firm (how nice it would feel under his hands!) and her waist slender and curved. Her shoulders, while admittedly broad for a woman, were nevertheless delicately formed, and led up to a lovely neck. Briefly, he imagined kissing it, running his tongue from jawbone to clavicle, and then down-

Stop it! he snapped inwardly, angry at himself for entertaining such impure thoughts. Saiya didn't need to have another man drooling over her. What she needed was a friend. He followed after her with his gaze fixed safely on the ground.

True to her word, Saiya ate an entire bowl of Ghor's nourishing salmon and wild carrot stew, which was flavored with herbs only the sangoma knew. She could swear that she felt healthier afterwards, her cheeks aglow with warmth, the gnawing cramps of hunger gone from her stomach. She glanced across the fire at Caesar, who (having only begun eating solid food again less than a week ago) was devouring his own meal with relish. He winked at her, and her heart gave the little flutter that she had recently started to associate with the wizard. The only thing in her experience she could compare it to was the effect that Baal had had on her when she first began to fall for him.

Saiya had no idea what this meant, or even what she wanted it to mean. Nothing seemed to make sense any more. Sometimes she thought that her life must have ended when she entered the Unformed Lands, that her spirit was trapped there, dreaming of the mortal world. And so she drifted through the days in a trance, her body putting in the bare minimum of effort to continue living, while her mind puzzled over the riddle of why.

It was her turn to wash up after dinner, and she performed the task mindlessly, burningly aware of Caesar's presence several feet away. He was freezing a cup of water and thawing it again, a ritual he did every evening to strengthen his arcane reserves. Ghor had forbidden him from casting any potent spells until he was fully recovered. His magic was essentially acting as a sort of fuel to keep him alive, and an overexertion at this point could be disastrous.

"Four times," Caesar reported, breathing hard, a sheen of sweat standing out on his forehead despite the chill in the air. "Yesterday I only managed three and a half."

"You are making good progress," said Ghor. "Rest now, rafiki. I will take the first watch."

"But I'm supposed to-"

"You look exhausted," she said kindly. "I do not wish you to fall asleep on duty."

Though she said nothing, Saiya was glad of the change, for it gave her an opportunity to be alone in the tent she shared with the other woman, and therefore privacy to consult Leena's mirror. She did this whenever possible, though most of the time, the surface was clouded by fog. Occasionally, a moment of clarity showed her an image of Baal; she could count them on one hand. She had seen him sleeping, his mouth a tight line and his brow deeply furrowed. She had seen him wrapping his forearm in bandages, and refilling his quiver with arrows, and speaking to a figure whose face was shrouded by a hood. These brief glimpses sustained her, like rainfall in the desert, or tinder to a dying flame. She cherished them.

Huddled beneath her blanket, Saiya dug around in her pack for the precious cloth-wrapped bundle. Hearing a melodious tinkle, she paused, pulling out a little golden bell. Squirt had insisted on giving it to her as a farewell present on the day she left Caldeum. She could still see the bashful smile on the girl's face. "I wanted you to have this," she had said. "I'm never going to sell it otherwise – the price is too high, I know. Anyway, no one deserves it more than you. Maybe you'll even find out how to get into that magical kingdom my father told me about."

"I wish," Saiya muttered, tucking the bell away. At the moment, if someone were to open a door for her and tell her that it led into such a place, she would walk through without hesitation, and leave behind the dreary world in which she was forced to dwell.

Her depression only increased when she brought out the mirror, only to find it shrouded and impenetrable. This, it seemed, was not one of the rare nights on which Baal would appear. She wondered if his absence was merely an indication that the distance between them was too great to bridge, or whether he was subconsciously concealing himself from her, or whether she was the one causing the enchantment to fail. Had her attachment to Caesar grown strong enough to impede the mirror's magic? Gods, she hoped not. A month ago, she would have staked her soul on her love for him. It could not be so fragile, so fleeting … could it?

Her scowl turned into a gasp of surprise as the mist coiling under the glass suddenly began to dissipate, and the vague forms solidified into a recognizable picture.

The breath froze in Saiya's lungs, her heart stopped between one beat and the next. She stared and stared, praying that what she saw would change, fade away, prove itself to be some figment of her exhausted imagination, a waking nightmare. But there was no change.

Two figures beneath a blanket, the rhythm of their movement leaving no trace of doubt in Saiya's mind as to the nature of their activity. Baal's hands were tangled in the woman's long black hair, his face slack with pleasure. She raked her nails over his chest, leaving streaks of red in their wake, and he shuddered and cried out. At that moment, Saiya knew exactly who she was, and she flung the mirror away with a strangled sob.

Vera. He had gone back to Vera.

It didn't really matter, she thought distantly, which of them had sought the other out. It was done, Baal had made his choice, and he had not chosen her. The why no longer mattered, only the what now.

Her face was wet, she realized, her body folded in on itself, her teeth clamped tightly down on her own fist to muffle the sounds of her grief. It was as though she had lost him all over again, only this time there was nothing to hold onto, no note to read, no promise of meeting again.

The initial shock was passing, and now anger set in, molten and destructive. Saiya was consumed by a desire to hurt Baal, to wound him as he had wounded her. She thought of the words he had once said to her: "Love isn't the beautiful thing that they make it out to be in fairy tales. It's two people stumbling around in the dark with knives, cutting each other to ribbons because they can't see. Don't you get it? When you give someone your heart, you arm them to do their worst against you, whether it's intentional or not."

Wiping her face dry on her sleeve, Saiya parted the tent flap and peered out. Lyndon and Ghor were silhouetted by the firelight, speaking in hushed voices. As she watched, Lyndon sat down, and the sangoma stood and picked her way across the uneven ground towards the tent. The watch had changed.

At once, she knew what she wanted to do, and her stomach burned with anticipation and fear. She quickly climbed into her bedroll, pulling the blanket up to her ears and rolling over to face the canvas wall, affecting slumber. Ghor entered as quietly as a summer breeze, undressing and lying down on her own cot. Saiya waited until her companion's breathing slowed before rising just as noiselessly, and slipped out of the tent. Lyndon had his back to her, warming his hands over the flames, humming to himself.

Before she could think better of her decision, Saiya crept across to the second tent, where Caesar slept, and undid the ties on the door with shaking fingers. The interior was dark, but she could just make out the shape of the wizard, sprawled in his customary sleeping position with arms and legs thrown wide. She could barely hear the rasp of his breathing over the thundering of her own heartbeat.

Going to him, she knelt down and touched his shoulder. He opened bleary eyes, mumbled something indistinct, and moved to roll over.

"Caesar," she whispered. "Wake up."

That, he responded to, though fortunately he had sense enough to keep his voice low. "Saiya? What's going on? Is it my turn to keep watch already?"

She shook her head, her confidence beginning to slide away. "No, I … I wanted to see you. I need … do you mind if I join you?"

After a moment of hesitation, he scooted aside to leave room for her on the narrow bedroll, pulling the blankets back. Saiya laid down beside him, her body board-straight and stiff, while Caesar propped his head up on his hand and gazed down at her in bemusement.

"Are you okay?" he asked after a minute. "You look like you've been crying."

"I don't want to talk about it," she mumbled, and before he could inquire any further, she tilted her face towards his and kissed him with almost violent force. He gasped sharply against her mouth, the fingers of his free hand winding into her hair. They parted after a moment and stared at each other, his eyes wide and startled, hers glazed with a mixture of desire and deep, biting unhappiness.

"Well!" said Caesar. "That was-" And then she was on him again, desperate to keep him from talking, to lose herself in the warmth of his mouth, his searching hands, his sighs of contentment. She could feel his arousal through the thin fabric of his breeches, trapped between their stomachs, and she palmed it, enjoying the responsive jerk of his hips, and the groan that trailed off into a breathy whine.

"W-wait!" he panted, as she began to work her fingers under his waistband. "Saiya, what is going on? Is this … am I dreaming?"

"Do you dream about me?" she murmured into his neck.

"Yes," he admitted. "Often. But never in such detail. This isn't a dream, though. You're really here, really – ah – touching m-mmm." His voice broke apart as she took hold of him, stroking gently. The shape was different than … she pushed that thought fiercely away before it could form fully in her mind. Right now, she would think of nothing but the man in front of her.

"Wh-what about Baal?" Caesar choked. Saiya froze, then withdrew her hand with an irritated sigh. Apparently she had no choice but to confront this head on.

"What about him? He's not here, is he? You are. He doesn't want me. You do. And I want you, Caesar. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to realize it."

She met his eyes then, and recoiled at what she saw there. He looked wary, suspicious almost. He said, "This doesn't feel right, Saiya. I don't know what put you in this mood, but-"

"I don't want to talk about that!" she hissed. "Godsdamnit, are you going to have sex with me or not? If you won't, I'll just … go, and-"

Caesar's arms wrapped around her as she started to pull away, tugging her against his chest. His heart was racing – with her ear pressed to his skin, she could hear it plainly – but his hands were calm and soothing as they caressed her back.

"Stay," he breathed, so softly she might have imagined it.

Entwined, they lay for some time in perfect silence. Saiya could feel the warmth of his hands even through the thick fabric of her robe. After a while, she shifted to find a more comfortable position, and brushing up against him realized, with a little jolt of excitement and alarm, that he was still hard.

She opened her mouth, intending to explain herself, or perhaps to inquire how he felt about this development, but what came out instead was, "I know you were watching me today, by the stream."

The wizard chuckled lightly. "Well, what did you think would happen? You can't just traipse around naked in front of a man who hasn't felt a woman's touch in months, and expect him not to notice." A pause, and then he added, "Or was that your intention?"

Saiya was glad for the darkness that hid her blushing cheeks. "It is nice to be noticed," she said. "I was hoping that you would. Notice, I mean."

"Well, I did. You are very noticeable."

"Thank you … I think."

"I meant it as a compliment."

There was a strange light burning in his stormcloud eyes, turning them the color of sunlight through crystal. Gazing into them, Saiya was startled to see faint lines of violet radiating out from the pupil, nearly lost among the grey.

"You're beautiful," she whispered, without intending to.

Caesar quirked an eyebrow at her. "Beautiful? Isn't that what I'm supposed to say to you?"

"I meant it as a compliment," she parroted, and he laughed again. Watching the way his lips curved, Saiya decided that she wanted to kiss him again, and did just that. It was different than kissing Baal; the Hunter was all fire and passion, assaulting her with tongue and teeth and leaving her breathless, while Caesar's mouth moved lazily, as though he had all the time in the world. She tried to pick up the pace, gently biting his bottom lip, and got a low, drawn-out "Mmm," in response. One of his hands slipped beneath her robe and kneaded her breast, and it wasn't enough, she needed him like a red-hot iron to cauterize her wound, agonizing but ultimately healing.

"Please," she moaned, trying to drag his hand further down her body. He complied readily enough, but stopped when he reached her hip.

"Saiya, love, are you sure about this?" he asked. "I know that you miss Baal, and you're probably lonely and starved for affection, but-"

"It isn't like that," Saiya said stubbornly. "You don't understand."

"Then help me to."

"I can't. Caesar, just … please. Trust me."

"Alright," sighed the wizard. "I will. Just tell me one thing: is this really going to make you feel better?"

Saiya nodded decisively. "Yes."

All trepidation vanished from his expression, and he flipped them over so that he lay on top of her, his weight resting on his elbows and the knee he had thrust between her legs. She rubbed against his thigh, whimpering at the delicious pressure.

"Too many clothes," Caesar grunted, sitting up just enough to strip off his light cotton shirt. His pale skin was almost luminous in the darkness. Saiya reached up to stroke her hands down his sides, feeling goosebumps rise on his flesh.

He was undoing the clasps of her robe now, parting the fabric and kissing a trail down her torso, following the line of the scar that ran between her breasts. He suckled her nipples into peaks, traced the all-too-visible lines of her ribs, circled her navel with his tongue. Then he ventured lower, and Saiya had to stuff a fist into her mouth to muffle her cry of pleasure. She had no desire to give Lyndon cause to investigate.

"Oh," she moaned, "That feels amazing! Oh, Baal-"

Caesar froze, then scrambled away from her, and Saiya felt a wave of cold horror wash over her, followed immediately by a mortification more intense than she had ever known. After what she'd just done, she wouldn't blame the wizard if he never wanted to speak to her again.

"Oh, gods," she whispered. "Caesar, I-"

He held up a hand to forestall her. "I think," he said carefully, "that it's better if we don't go any further."

"Of course. I completely understand." Her voice sounded small in her own ears. "I'm really sorry."

"No, I'm glad," he said, shaking his head. "I'm not sure anything else would have brought me back to my senses, and it's clear that becoming intimate would not have been good … for either of us."

She knew then that she had hurt him, and she cringed with self-loathing. What had she been thinking, taking advantage of his kindness and attraction to her to inveigle her way into his bed, using him for her own gratification, only to call out another man's name in the heat of the moment. It was disgusting.

"Saiya, look at me." When she refused, gentle fingers captured her chin and tilted her face up so that she had no choice. She had expected anger and accusation in his gaze; the quiet acceptance that she saw there was infinitely worse. How could he be so docile about this? She wished he would yell at her, throw something, kick her out of his bed and his tent and his life … anything but just sit there looking at her like he forgave her, like he still cared.

"I can't imagine what you must think of me," she whispered, trying to provoke some reaction from him.

"Can't you?" said Caesar. "I think your heart has been broken, and you don't know what to do about it. I think you needed something to take your pain away, and so you came to me. But I'm not the one you really want, Saiya. I never have been."

"You could be, I think," she said, miserably. "You once told me that it wouldn't be very hard for you to fall in love with me. I feel the same way about you. I … please don't … I don't want you to think that … shit. I am attracted to you, Caesar, and I love you very much. You're my closest friend. I'm so, so sorry for the way I treated you tonight. You don't deserve that. It was selfish and cruel of me, and I regret it with all my heart. I …"

Tears were rolling down her cheeks, stinging the cracks in her lips and dripping from her chin. Caesar put his arms around her and held her close, disregarding the fact that he was still shirtless and her robe was undone. There was something supremely comforting, Saiya thought, about the feel of his bare skin on hers. She wept into his shoulder, crying for herself, for him, for the love she had lost, for her innocence. Even, she thought, for Baal, who had returned to a woman who hated him, and could cause him only pain.

They sat there for a long time before Caesar murmured, "Something's wrong."

Saiya sniffed loudly. "What do you mean? I thought we had-"

"No," he interrupted. "Not with us. Something's wrong out there." He jerked his head towards the tent flap. "Lyndon should have woken me to take guard by now."

"Maybe he figured out that I was in here and decided to give us some space," Saiya suggested.

"Maybe," said the wizard. "Or maybe not. Get dressed. I'm going to check it out." He put on his boots and the fur-lined coat he had purchased in Bramwell, in anticipation of the drop in temperature as they traveled further north, and left the tent while Saiya was still trying to properly align the clasps on her robe.

"Lyndon?" she heard him call, and then, more sharply, "Damn you, Lyndon, where have you gone?"

Fighting back unease (the rogue had probably just gone to relieve himself), Saiya pushed back the tent flap and stepped out into the frigid night air. The fire leapt and crackled merrily; it appeared to have been recently tended. Caesar paced back and forth in front of it, his dark brows drawn into a worried frown.

"I'm sure everything's fine," Saiya reassured him. "If he'd been attacked, we would have heard it."

"I suppose you're right," Caesar began, and then went suddenly still, peering into the fringe of trees just outside the circle of light cast by the flames. He mumbled, "I thought I saw-"

A spear sailed out of the darkness, landing point-first in the fire and scattering sparks and embers everywhere. Caesar jumped back as several landed on his feet. Drawing his dragon-shaped wand, he flicked his wrist towards the trees, sending icy blades spinning into the shadows.

Saiya turned tail and ran for her own tent, where her brass knuckles were kept, but before she reached it, the canvas was rent from the inside by a blade, and a massive figure climbed through. The person was Tyrael's height, at least, and dressed all in furs. A helmet of bone and leather concealed the face. But Saiya was less concerned by these details than she was with the fact that the person's free arm was looped around Ghor's waist, holding her effortlessly off the ground, and that the naked edge of the largest sword Saiya had ever seen was pressed to the sangoma's throat.

Baal paced along the ramparts of Bastion's Keep, stamping his feet and blowing on his hands to ward off the cold that seemed to seep into his very bones. He called a greeting to Lieutenant Merityn, who was hurrying down the stairs from the Northwest Tower with an armload of charts and maps. Merityn offered a brief nod in return before continuing on his way.

Over the month that he'd spent at the ancient fortress, Baal had developed an easy camaraderie with most of its officers. He had a great deal of respect for Captain Haile, a tough, intelligent man who reminded him of Peter Rumford, and he suspected that the feeling was mutual. Haile had been their biggest advocate when it came to convincing Commander Calderos that the threat of demonic invasion was a real one.

A whole month I've been here, Baal thought with weary frustration, and that fool is just now agreeing to see to the fortifications. He's grown fat and complacent walled up in the Keep, like a spider at the center of its web, secure in the knowledge that the flies cannot touch it. But Azmodan is no fly: he's a great toad, and like a toad, his reach is long. He won't hesitate to tear this place to the ground to get at what he wants.

"And we brought it here, right to his very doorstep," the Hunter muttered under his breath, glaring out at the jagged outline of Arreat, framed against the starless sky.

"Brought what?" said a small voice by his elbow. Startled, he spun around to see Leah, her pale, tired face framed by her fur-lined hood. The skin beneath her eyes was baggy and bruised, and the smile she gave him was strained.

"I didn't hear you come up," Baal said. "Any luck with the stone?"

Leah, under her mother's strict guidance, had been performing experiments on the Black Soulstone, trying to better understand its capacities, and its limitations. When she wasn't doing that, she was buried nose-deep in books, researching everything to do with the Lords of Hell, and Azmodan in particular, in the hopes of discovering some weakness that they could exploit.

"Not much," she said, pursing her lips. "It seems to react to certain types of magic-" Dark magic, was the unspoken subtext. Baal didn't comment. "-but we haven't been able to find a way to destroy it yet – at least, not without releasing its … prisoners."

"You have time," Baal said. "The knowledge you seek isn't going to do you any good if you kill yourself trying to get it."

Leah gave him a wry grin. "Wow, do I really look that bad?"

"I'm not sure I feel comfortable answering that question."

"I guess I must, then. It's true that I haven't been sleeping well lately."

She came to stand beside him, placing her folded arms on the top of the crenelation, which came up to chest-height on her, and resting her chin atop her wrists. Baal put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder, feeling the tremor that ran through her body under his touch.

"More visions?" he asked.

Leah shook her head. "No. Not real ones, anyway. They're more like … really vivid dreams. I see Maghda sometimes. I watch her murdering Uncle Deckard, or … or making love to my mother." She spoke so softly that he had to strain to catch the words. "And sometimes I see things that didn't happen, like the Coven using you and Tyrael as sacrifices to Belial. And I see Azmodan, but he doesn't tell me anything, not like last time. He's just there, this huge malevolent presence in my mind, and he grows bigger and bigger until he blots out the sun, and I can't see anything but his open mouth, filled with fire, and I know that I'm going to die, that he's going to swallow me up. I can feel his tongue, burning-" She broke off with a sound suspiciously like a sob. Baal moved closer and put his arm around her.

"You know I won't let that happen," he said. "As long as I draw breath, no demon will ever hurt you, Leah."

"Thanks," she replied. "That actually does make me feel better."

They smiled at each other for a long moment, and Baal saw the shadow of something more in her eyes. He squeezed her shoulder, just once, and moved away again. A considering look flickered across her face, and he knew without asking that a moment of silent understanding had just passed between them: that she had offered herself, and he had turned her down, and she had expected no less of him.

"You must miss Saiya terribly," she remarked abruptly. Baal felt a pang in his chest.

"Yes," he said. "I do."

It was her turn to comfort him, now, and her little hand tucked itself into the crook of his elbow in a sweet, almost childlike gesture of compassion. "You'll see her soon," she said. "I'm sure of it."

"The question is," said Baal, "whether she'll want to see me."

"She loves you," said Leah, sagely. "That isn't going to go away just because you left without telling her. Though," she added, "I imagine that she'll yell at you a lot before she forgives you."

"I wonder where she is now," Baal murmured, his gaze growing distant, as though if he looked long enough, he could see past mountains and forest to the other side of the world.

In the growing dusk, the pair of them stood side by side without speaking, and stared out at the foreboding black clouds that gathered over Mount Arreat.