Amor Vincit Omnia

(Love Conquers All)

Part III: Children of Angels

"And when I feel like I can feel once again
Let me stay awhile, soak it in awhile
If we can hold on, we can fix what is wrong
Buy a little time for this head of mine
Heaven for us."
- The Delgados
"Light Before We Land"

Wow. Okay. It's been ... quite some time. I have a whole litany of excuses for why I've haven't updated in almost two months, but the real reason is that I just ran out of inspiration. Thankfully a few staunch friends have continued to encourage me, and it's thanks to them that I finally managed to wrap this section of the story up. You know who you are, awesome people! :) Anyway, by way of apology, I decided to upload the prologue for Part IV at the same time as I'm posting this chapter. Check it out! More coming soon! And reviews, as always, are greatly appreciated. Thank you all for reading!

Chapter Twenty-One: The Temple of the High Sun

The first time she awoke, she was enfolded in a pair of glowing wings, being carried high above the city. She turned her head to see the shadow of an angel's face beneath a white hood. It was neither her mother nor Azrael who bore her, and the names of the others had temporarily escaped her recollection. She drifted off again.

The second time, she was submerged in a pool of warm water, while careful hands washed her body, soothing her injuries. Now, she had the presence of mind to croak, "Baal?"

"Auriel is tending to him," the person bathing her replied.

"And Caesar? Is he okay? He fell …"

Fingers, armored in metal so fine it felt like a dragonfly's wing, carded through her hair. "Eremiel and Azrael went out looking for him. They have not yet returned. Rest now, child, your body needs to heal."

The third time, she opened her eyes to a dimly lit tower room, far removed from the glittering halls of Heaven. She tried to sit up, but her muscles refused to cooperate. She barely managed to turn her head enough to look at the bunk beside her. It was occupied by Ghor. Her eyes were closed and she was motionless, but the rise and fall of her chest indicated that she was merely fast asleep.

"Greetings, daughter," said a melodic voice. Laboriously, Saiya turned her head in the other direction. Her mother was sitting there, in the human form that she had taken on the ramparts when they'd first met … how many days ago? Only one? Or had it been many?

"How long?" Saiya gasped. Forcing words from her throat was difficult.

"By mortal reckoning, it has been five days since Diablo was defeated," Eremiel replied.

"And we're back in Bastion's Keep now?" the young monk asked, or at least, tried to ask. Actually, what emerged was "Bast' Keep?"

Eremiel heaved a sigh. "Imperius permitted us to save your lives, but he would not tolerate your presence for a moment longer. As soon as it was safe to move you, we brought you back here."

"Whattanass," Saiya slurred. To her surprise, the angel giggled a little, holding a demure hand over her mouth to conceal the noise.

"I apologize," she said. "I was imagining his face if he were to hear you say such a thing … however true it might be. I must apologize on his behalf, my darling, and also offer you our most sincere gratitude, since his pride will now allow him to do so."

Saiya waved a hand; it flopped uselessly on her wrist. "Don' mention it. Gods, why'm I so weak?"

Eremiel's expression sobered abruptly, all traces of mirth wiped from her lovely face. "You were very close to death. The blow from Diablo's tail damaged something inside you. You were bleeding from nose and mouth, and … other places as well. It was most frightening to behold, especially for those of us who are unaccustomed to dealing with physical forms."

"I … bled? From here?" She touched briefly between her legs, and her mother nodded. Cold fear gripped Saiya's heart. She was no expert on pregnancy, but she knew enough to realize that that was a very bad sign. "My baby," she whispered. "Is it …?"

"Auriel informed me that you are with child," said Eremiel. "She also told me that something is wrong with it. When she was healing you, she felt a dark aura in your womb, a presence that did not belong there. She wished to remove it, but I stopped her. It would not have been right to do it without your consent. However, I must warn you that if you choose to keep the child, it could have serious consequences."

Saiya's brain was a whirlwind of emotions: incredible relief that her baby had survived, raw fury that someone tried to destroy it, profound gratitude to Eremiel for preventing that from happening. But most of all, confusion, thick and stifling, filling her head like the buzzing of a swarm of bees.

"C-consequences?" she managed. "What d'you mean?"

"As far as our scholars are aware, there has never been such a being," replied Eremiel. "It would be human, of course, as you and Baal are human. But you are also Nephalem, and powerful ones at that. Your offspring would have an unusually high concentration of angelic blood. That alone is nothing to be concerned about – your friend Ghor likely has as much or more, since she is the product of many generations of careful breeding. But to add a demonic strain into that mix, and from Azmodan no less … well. It is like putting a spark to gunpowder. The result will undeniably be impressive, but potentially extremely unstable. To say nothing, of course, of to danger to you, carrying such a thing within you until it is ready to enter the world. Perhaps it would be better to end-"

"Enough!" Saiya snapped, and Eremiel recoiled as if she'd been struck. "We're not talking about an alchemy experiment here. This is my child. My baby! I don't care what it is, I'm not going to … to murder it! You nearly died to give birth to me. You of all people should understand how I feel."

Eremiel bowed her head. "Forgive me, daughter. I meant no offense. I was thinking only of your safety."

"I know," she replied, trying to smile. It felt shaky, her lips trembling. For all her fierce protectiveness, she couldn't help the sliver of revulsion buried deep in her chest at the thought of having any part of Azmodan inside her.

"Quod fatum non flumen fluit in posteriorem partem inclinatur," murmured Eremiel. She seemed to be speaking primarily to herself, however, so Saiya did not ask for a translation.

"When are you going back to the Heavens?" she inquired instead, wanting to change to topic.

A lost expression passed across Eremiel's face, and for a brief moment, she looked like a child herself. "I am no longer welcome there," she said. "Imperius has exiled Azrael and myself for our disobedience. He called it a 'rebellion', though we did not see it as such. We were given a choice between joining Tyrael in the realm of the humans, or allowing ourselves to fade into the light and be reborn."

"And you both chose Tyrael?"

"We did not feel that our time in this world was finished," Eremiel said. "There is still much for us to do here."

"I'm sorry that you were exiled because of us," Saiya said.

Her mother's smile was as sweet and gentle as falling rain. "Oh, dear heart, you had nothing to do with it. We are being punished for daring to think for ourselves. It would have happened sooner or later."

"Still, it must be painful for you."

"We will miss the shining city in the sky," Eremiel admitted, "but I hear that there are many extraordinary places in Sanctuary. Perhaps we shall travel for a while, and see some of them."

"Where are Baal and Caesar?" Saiya asked. "Are they in a different wing of the infirmary?" She could imagine Calderos insisting that male and female patients be housed separately, but Calderos was dead. Who had taken command in his stead? Haille? She couldn't remember.

"Last I saw of your demon hunter, he was crafting arrows in the Commons," Eremiel replied. "But that was several hours ago, so he may have moved elsewhere."

"Not to my bedside, certainly," Saiya grumbled. "Nothing's changed there, then." She frowned, realizing that her mother had answered only half the question. "And Caesar?"

Tears glimmered in Eremiel's eyes. "I am so sorry, my darling. Azrael and I searched for days, but though we found the place where Diablo lies, your friend's body was not there."

"His body?" Saiya echoed sharply. "What makes you think he's dead?"

"He was badly injured. Even if by some miracle he survived the fall, there is nothing but wilderness for miles around. I am afraid that even Auriel could find no reason to hope he still lives."

Saiya turned her head so she was staring straight up at the conical ceiling of the tower, at the layers of stone, wood, and straw thatching that kept out the cold. She heard Eremiel rise and start towards her, but forestalled her advance with a mumbled, "I'd like to be alone for a little while, please."

A human might have might felt the sting of rejection; Eremiel merely smiled and said, "I will be downstairs if you require me."

"It's not their fault," Saiya whispered once her mother had gone. She said it aloud in the hope that it would be more convincing. It wasn't. Logically, she knew that the two angels had done all they could have been expected to and more, but that didn't make the thought of her beloved friend dying alone – perhaps waiting futilely for rescue, thinking himself deserted and forgotten – any less wrenching. Five days was a long time, yes, but Baal had survived for longer after Adria had abandoned him at Sescheron.

Baal. She had found him, hadn't she? Had spirit-walked all the way to where he'd lain, guided by her driving need to find the man she loved above all else. Her bond with Caesar was not as strong, but there was no reason that she shouldn't try.

The last time she'd done it, it had happened more or less by accident. She hadn't even been fully aware that her form was not corporeal. Now, she was acutely aware of her body as her spirit left it behind, the exact moment when pain and fatigue was transmuted into a blissful numbness, the way her eyelashes dropped and her breathing slowed.

That flesh and blood is a vessel, she thought, staring down at it. And I am the substance that fills and animates it. Without me, it is empty. It was disturbing, to look at her own body as an object to be picked up and put down again at will. If she chose not to return to it, would it continue to slumber without her, swelling with her child? Would something else come along and, finding a vacant home, take her place?

Turning away, she waked out through the tower wall and into the air beyond, finding it just as simple as stepping through an open doorway. The sun was just rising, painting grey stone and pale ice in shades of red and gold. From this vantage point, she could see the Keep in all its ruined glory: burnt wood, cracked stone, and bloodied snow, crumbling ramparts choked with piles of rubble that had yet to be cleared away. On the plains below, soldiers swarmed like ants, piling the corpses of demons to be immolated, hacking apart the ones too large to move. Their own dead they laid in rows along the base of the wall to await identification (if possible) and a funeral pyre. Scraps of red cloth flew like victory flags from the battlements, one for each of the fallen.

Saiya left the scene of devastation and sent her consciousness northward, into the frozen forests past Arreat. Snow hung heavy on the tree limbs and lay in drifts on the mountain slopes, its surface undisturbed by her passage. The air was still here, not even a breeze to stir it, as if all the world held its breath.

The place where Diablo had come crashing down was not difficult to find; it radiated a foul and twisted energy. At the bottom of a crater, half-buried in ice and raw earth, lay the Prime Evil, his hellfire extinguished, his eyes gone dark. The whole place stank of blood and brimstone. Standing at the crater's rim, staring down at her vanquished foe, Saiya wondered if his body would decay or if it would remain whole, preserved by the cold, for any who wanted to see it.

But she had other, more important matters to attend to. Her instincts told her that Caesar hadn't fallen far from here. Concentrating, she sought out his signature, and detected a faint waft of cinnamon through the burnt trees on the left. She followed the trail, stumbling a little in her eagerness. Pushing aside the curtain of singed needles – or rather, passing through it – the young monk found herself on the shore of a frozen lake.

It was a beautiful place. Where the sun touched it, the snow-crusted surface became pure diamond, multi-faceted and shining. In summer, when the waters were free, Saiya imagined that they would reflect the majestic spire of the peak that thrust heavenward above her, white-capped even on the hottest day of the year.

A small flurry of flakes drifted down from the cloudless sky, brushing her cheeks and landing in her hair. Saiya touched one, wishing with a sudden desperate ache that she could feel the bite of it on her fingertips. But even if she had been physically present, magical ice was only cold if its master wished it to be.

"Goodbye, Caesar," she whispered.

Her eyes were stinging. She reached up to wipe at them, only to find that the world around her had gone dark. She was back in the infirmary, and the window slits were shuttered to keep out the cold and the light.

"You awake?" rasped a voice beside her. Saiya hardly recognized it as Baal's. He sounded as though he had swallowed a bowl full of nails and then vomited them back up again. Turning, she saw him sprawled across a chair, shirtless, with Thaqib resting on his lap, loaded and ready to fire.

"Yeah," she murmured. "I came to earlier, but you weren't here. My mother-"

"She told me." His eyebrow raised, a silent inquiry.

There was no point in lying about it. "I spirit-walked in search of Caesar."

Baal nodded. "And what did you find?"

"He's gone," she whispered. The words left a gaping hole in her heart, as though something had been torn out.

Baal nodded again. There was no surprise on his face, only a weary sorrow. After a moment, he picked up something on the ground beside him and tossed it to her. It was Caesar's hat, carefully cleaned and repaired.

"Thought you might want it," he said.

Saiya swallowed past the lump in her throat, hands fisting around the felt brim. "Thanks," she mumbled. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. You're the one who nearly died." But he wasn't looking at her, and a prickling certainty spread across the back of her neck that there was something he wasn't telling her. She sat up, craning her neck to get a better look at the side of his face that was hidden in shadow.

There was no scarring. The angelic healers had done their work very well. His flesh was as whole and perfect as it had been before, but …

"Your eye," she breathed, horrified. "Baal …"

"It was a small price to pay," he said. He was trying so hard to sound indifferent, but she could hear the devastation strung through his tone and knew what he was thinking: what good is a demon hunter who is blind in one eye?

It wasn't noticeable unless you really looked closely, a milky glaze over the sea-green that not even the tint of crimson could burn away. His pupil still tracked movement in tandem with the other, but it was an automatic response. Anything too far to the left fell into the void. It would be a serious handicap on the battlefield, she thought with a chill.

"I'm so sorry!" she choked, reaching for him. "I should have done something, should have prevented this."

"Like you could have. This wasn't your fault, nuur il'-en, any more than it would have been my fault if you'd miscarried. We all sacrificed something for our victory. Caesar gave more than either of us. We should be grateful to be alive and relatively whole."

"Still … what are you going to do now? You can't hunt demons when you can't see them."

The corner of his mouth tilted up in a humorless grin. "Watch me."

"But-"

"I'll learn to cope, Saiya, like people do when this sort of thing happens. Would it stop you? I didn't think so. Anyway, there are more important questions to answer, such as what you intend to do about that little hell-spawn you're carrying around."

Saiya flinched in shock, feeling as though he had driven a knife into her womb. "Don't you fucking talk about our child like that!" she snarled.

Baal gave her a flat look. "It's not just our child now, though, is it? I don't think you realize how dangerous a hybrid like that could be."

"Not you too!" There was a hysterical edge in her voice, which she struggled to suppress. It would do no one any good if she were to fly to pieces.

"Saiya." To her surprise, there were tears in his eyes. "Do you think I want to kill it? Do you think the idea doesn't hurt me too? But raising it wouldn't be like anything you could imagine. We could never treat it like a normal kid, never. We would have to be constantly vigilant, always on our guard in case the demonic strain in its blood rises to the surface."

She ground her teeth in a fierce grimace. "So we learn to cope, like people do."

"Don't do that," he snapped, glaring at her. "Don't use my own words against me."

"Look, Baal," she said. "I'm not asking anything of you that you don't want to give. If you'd rather not accept the responsibility, I completely understand. It's a lot to ask, especially given that you've committed your life to wiping out the very thing that's now a part of me. I get that, I really do. But the baby inside me has a right to live. I can't take that away from it."

"You think this is about me being selfish," said Baal. "It's not. It's about duty, Saiya. Imagine this scenario: imagine that you give birth to a healthy little infant, you love and nurture it, you bring it up in the most adoring of homes, never telling it about the evil that dwells inside it because you don't want to disturb the poor thing. But eventually, that evil starts to break free because you can't hold that sort of thing down, no matter how hard you try. And a time comes when you're put into the position of having to destroy this child that you love so much, because if you don't, you're betraying the world that you fought to protect. What then, Saiya? Could you do that, do you think?"

She sighed. "I don't know. I'd do what I had to, I suppose. But you're wrong about one thing: I wouldn't hide this from the child. You said that we could never treat it normally, so I wouldn't. I'd teach it about the darkness inside it, and how to control and master it so that it would never be unleashed on the world."

Baal grunted. "And if all your hard work was in vain?"

"Sometimes that happens!" Saiya cried, frustrated with his cynical determination to see only the worst-case scenario. "People – just plain ordinary people – can be evil too, Baal. Even without any demonic influence, our child could grow up to become a rapist or a murderer. We don't have any control over that! All we can do is give it our best shot. And as I said before, if you're not willing to do that, then … you're free. You have no obligation to me."

His face twisted, eyes – intact and useless – fixed on a knot on the floor. "I need to think about it," he muttered. "I … I'm so sorry, nuur il-'en, it's not you, you know it's not. The thought of not being with you always is worse than death to me. But I'm not sure I can do this."

Her heart cracked at the thought that after all they'd been through together, this might be the thing that finally built an insurmountable wall between them. She nodded, somehow finding the strength to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Take all the time you need," she said. "I'm not going anywhere."

Baal stood up, fishing a clean shirt out of his pack and shrugging it on. Then, with a last broken glance at her that tracked from her face to her stomach and back again, he turned and strode out of the room. The moment he was gone, Saiya unleashed the storm that was raging inside her chest in a long drawn-out wail, burying her face in Caesar's hat. A faint hint of cinnamon clung to the material still. She breathed it in, sobbing until her guts cramped and her throat burned.

They had killed Diablo. They had saved the High Heavens, and the people of Sanctuary, from ruin. So why did she feel as if it had all been for nothing?

For a brief, blinding moment, she wished that she had never woken up. Then her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten in a very long time, and self-pity was buried under the basic demands of a body that wanted to keep living, no matter how the woman occupying it felt.

She gave the hat a final squeeze and tucked it safely under her pillow. Then she levered herself out of bed with a strength drawn more from stubbornness than energy. She was clad in clothing she didn't recognize: a soft white cotton tunic and pants. Her feet were bare, but that didn't deter her in the slightest. Staggering a little, using walls and tables for support, she made her way down the spiral stairs to the commons.

Once Saiya had collected a large bowl of hearty stew (evidently the monthly delivery of supplies from Westmarch had occurred), she looked around for a place to sit and noticed Ghor all by herself in a dark corner. Not quite alone, however, as the young monk noticed when she drew closer: Gawahir was perched on Ghor's knee. Saiya suddenly realized that she hadn't seen the raven since their bloody battle with Azmodan. He was very thin, and the gloss had gone out of his feathers, leaving them rather bedraggled. Ghor was talking to him in a soft voice and hand-feeding him shreds of meat.

"Do you mind if I join you?" Saiya asked, standing over them.

"Not at all," replied Ghor. "Please, sit." She patted the empty spot beside her with her free hand.

"How's he doing?" Saiya asked, indicating Gawahir with a tilt of her head as she started to eat.

"Recovering," said Ghor. "He is a hearty creature, but it will be some time before he returns to full health, if he ever does. To endure Azmodan's gaze is a serious thing, especially for one so small."

"You were very brave," Saiya told the bird. At the sound of her voice, he turned his back and flipped up his tail at her – the avian version of giving someone the finger, she decided. She chuckled and tugged on one of his feathers.

"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry we left you behind. You would have liked the High Heavens too, everything was very shiny."

"Bitch," squawked Gawahir, sulkily.

"And how about you, Ghor?" Saiya inquired, turning to her friend. "Are you alright?"

"Physically, I am fine," said the sangoma. She did not elaborate immediately, and Saiya began to feel rather nervous.

"And mentally? Or spiritually, if that's what you meant?"

"I have regained the use of my mana," said Ghor. She didn't sound happy about it. Saiya's grin died on her face.

"Is that … not a good thing?"

"It would be," said Ghor, "if it was natural. But the gates remain open and cannot be closed. I am flooded and swelling with power I cannot bear to use."

Saiya frowned. "Why not? What's wrong with it?"

"It has been tainted by the presence of Azmodan within you," murmured Ghor. "He squats atop the gate like a great toad, wearing the face of my old friend Churamungu, but his black blood runs down in rivers and corrupts the water of my mana as it passed through from beyond. I do not know how to remove him."

"There must be a way!" Saiya gasped, horrified. "Some ritual, and exorcism …"

"Perhaps," Ghor nodded. "I will see when I return to my homeland."

"I'm so sorry," Saiya whispered, unable to meet the other woman's eyes. "It's my fault, isn't it. I did that to you when I forced the gate open. You changed …"

"Yes," said Ghor. "You did this. I was very angry with you for several days after I awoke. I thought of going away immediately because I did not want to see your face. But Eremiel needed my help to care for you once we returned here. In your sleep, you spoke to me. I do not think you were aware of what you said, but it eased my rage and put my soul at rest. I can say now in all honesty that I forgive you. What you did was terrible, but it was not without purpose."

"What did I say?" asked Saiya, grateful and mystified all at once.

Ghor smiled. "That, child, is between myself and the part of you that remembers saying it. But enough of me. How are you coping?"

Intuitively, Saiya knew that Ghor was speaking not only of her pregnancy and all its complications, but also the devastating dual loss of Baal's eye and Caesar's life. It was a lot to absorb, horror stacked on horror to form a twisted wall that, bizarrely, acted as somewhat of a shield from the pain. It was as if it was so overwhelming that she could only stand to feel a fraction of it at any given time. If she thought about her child, corrupted and innocent, then she forgot that Caesar was dead. If she recalled his absence from her life, permanent now, then she could almost believe that Baal could see perfectly.

If ever I remember all three at once, I might explode from the agony, Saiya thought. But she also knew that wasn't true; she had everything in her mind at the moment, and all she felt was a vague numb nausea deep in her stomach.

"He's dead," she mumbled. It was the part of her suffering that was least private, for it was shared by all who'd known the wizard. "He died to save us. Diablo would have ended it right there, both Baal and I gone in one sweep of his tail, but Caesar got in the way. I think he knew that he wouldn't survive it, but he didn't care."

Ghor closed her eyes, and tears glimmered like diamonds on her lowered lashes. "I cannot imagine a death that he would have preferred," she said.

Saiya nodded. "I miss him."

"We always will. But we must not forget the living in our grief for those who now walk in other worlds."

"I guess the shadows got him back after all," Saiya said, with a bitter huff that couldn't be called a laugh under any circumstances. Abruptly, a distant memory came floating back to her: the group of them huddled in a little house in the highlands, waiting out the storm, and a woman (Karyna, that was her name) telling their fortunes with cards. Caesar had drawn the Hanged Man.

The arcana of the slaughtered lamb, Karyna had said, her tone glum, the innocent sacrifice. Had he known when he drew the card that their journey would end with him giving up his life?

Well, it mattered little now. He was gone, and she would mourn him always, as she would mourn Lyndon and Peter and the friendship that she might have had with Leah if Baal had not unwittingly come between them. But she could also feel the pulse of life within her own body, and that had to come first, even before her blinding love for Baal.

"Excuse me," she said, getting to her feet. "I need to spend a bit of time alone. I have a lot to think about."

"Indeed you do," said Ghor. As Saiya was walking away, the witch doctor's parting words came floating after her: "Remember, child, all life is precious."

On the way out to the ramparts, she had a brief conversation with Captain Haille (Commander, now). He congratulated her on her victory, she praised him for his clear-headed leadership in the wake of the siege, he expressed his condolences and informed her that Kormac had left for Westmarch the day after their return from the Heavens.

"He asked me to give all of you his thanks," Haille said.

"I appreciate the message, Commander," Saiya said. Haille saluted her, and she returned the gesture of respect, thinking how much of an improvement he was over his predecessor. They parted ways: Haille to inspect the repairs to the catapults, and Saiya to wander aimlessly along the wall, gazing out over the ice fields. The sky was covered by a flat disk of steel-grey clouds, but near the horizon, a bright strip of color was visible, where the sun was setting. It looked as though the edge of the world had caught fire.

That's where I need to be, she thought. Ivgorod. It's time for me to go home.

A sense of peace washed over her, a oneness with herself that she hadn't felt for a long time. At that moment, she knew she would be alright if Baal chose to leave her. Her love for him would never, could never, fade. It would forever burn as fiercely as the sun that devoured the clouds, and it would not be affected by any distance that he put between them.

"Thought I'd find you here," said the Hunter. She had not heard his approach, thanks to his spell-muffled boots, but she was too relaxed and at peace to be startled. He came up on her left side and leaned on the battlements, and she realized with a sharp pang that he had chosen the left so that she wouldn't be in his blind spot.

"Made up your mind yet?" she asked, giving him a small smile.

Baal nodded. "Yeah. I'm in. You know me, I've never been able to resist a challenge."

"What decided you?" For some reason, it seemed important that she know why he was choosing to stay with her.

"Kormac," Baal replied.

Saiya gave him an odd look. "Haille just told me that Kormac is already gone. He returned to Westmarch."

"I know," said Baal, "but I was thinking about him. When he first met Ghor, he was so distrustful of her because of her magic. He judged her before he even knew her. But when he gave her a chance …"

"He found out that his judgment was wrong," Saiya finished.

"I've always prided myself on my open-mindedness," he said, scrutinizing the palm of his hand as if it held all the answers to every question in the universe. "The only thing I've ever truly hated was demonkind. Maybe … maybe there's something I can learn from all this."

"I think we'll both be learning a lot, love," Saiya said, and kissed him.

They departed the Keep three days later, refusing Commander Haille's offer of an armed escort in favor of traveling fast, light, and inconspicuous. Ghor went with them, as did Tyrael, Azrael, and Eremiel. The three angels were bound for Kehjistan, where they planned to found the Horadrim anew with the explicit goal of guarding the Black Soulstone, which now contained the essences of all the Great Evils. One of their many tasks, Tyrael explained, would be to track down Adria.

"You could do worse than to recruit Eirena, when you get to Caldeum," Baal suggested. "She is a skilled enchantress."

Tyrael nodded gravely. "I shall certainly consider it."

On their sixth day out, Saiya spotted several figures following them at a distance. From their size and their garb, she and Baal figured them to be Barbarians, and had a somewhat heated debate over whether they should be treated as friend or foe. Baal thought it might be Freja, while Saiya wasn't so sure. In the end, they decided that because they didn't have Lyndon to translate for them in the event that it wasn't Freja, it would be better to proceed with caution. They kept on their guard for several days, especially during the night, but in the end, their mysterious pursuers (or honor guard) simply disappeared.

They parted ways in the city of Bramwell, the gateway of civilization in the far west. It was an emotional separation, with tears shed all around. Saiya and Ghor clung to each other for some time. Azrael tried to shake his son's hand and uttered a shocked cry when he was pulled in for a fierce embrace instead. Eremiel gifted Saiya with a belt that was woven of her own shorn hair, which glimmered and shone like strands of the purest gold.

"May it protect you, daughter, wherever you go," she whispered in Saiya's ear.

"Thank you," Saiya replied. "I'll wear it always."

"If you should ever have need of us, do not hesitate to send word," Tyrael instructed them. "A letter to Iron Wolves in Caldeum should reach us."

"If you find Adria, I want to know about it," Baal said, eyes and voice hard. "I owe her a lot of pain."

After that, it was just the two of them (and faithful Gawahir, of course), making their slow way through the forests of Westmarch and up into the mountains that bordered Ivgorod. It was a peaceful time. They made camp early and slept late, reveling in the warmth of each other's arms. They talked some, but most of the time they were silent, content simply to exist side by side. After all the long months of fighting and fear, it was a great relief, Saiya thought, not to feel anything at all but a blissful emptiness. She could sense that Baal didn't find the reprieve quite as restorative as she did – she would often wake to find him sitting and staring out into the dark – but he was clearly working hard not to disturb her with his own inner troubles, and she didn't force him to divulge what he thought about in the dead hours of the night.

By the time their journey was over, Saiya was more than three months pregnant, and her robe was growing uncomfortably tight across her stomach. She eyed the growing bulge with trepidation, wondering how large it would be by the time she was ready to give birth. To her great embarrassment, Baal insisted on purchasing a pair of sturdy mountain ponies for the final climb up to the temple.

"It's ridiculous!" she protested. "I can still walk!"

"We don't want to put the little one at risk," was all he said. She couldn't argue with that.

Late in the afternoon on a cold, grey day, they traversed the narrow winding road up Mount Ursinad, and arrived at last at the temple gates. Saiya struck the gong that would alert Brother Myrin that someone required entrance. As they waited, she turned to look out over the vale that curved sharply away before them, a knife-split between towering peaks. It was snow-clad at present, but in the summertime, the slopes would be covered in grass the color of emeralds, with wildflowers strewn like stars throughout.

"A green valley in the mountains," she murmured.

"What's that?" Baal asked. "Sorry, I wasn't listening."

Saiya smiled. "Nothing. I'm just happy to be home."

* Eremiel said, "The river of time can never flow backwards."