That First Spark

Chapter 1

Lyndon was absolutely convinced that the Apocalypse started on the day Johanna, the Nephalem Crusader hero of Sanctuary, declared war upon the Realm of Hatred.

So… not so much of a war, but more of a raiding party sprinkled with some assassination of a key figure.

Now, being a professional scoundrel, looter, thief, con artist and just about every other such man, Lyndon should have been thrilled and seen this opportunity to literally raid a part of the Burning Hells as the ultimate test of his skills.

Instead, Lyndon was certain they would all die.

The writings they have recovered and read about the Realm of Hatred did not bode well: The Book of Cain specifically stated that it was the most heavily populated area in the Burning Hells, making it a sort of capital. Numberless fortresses belonging to numberless factions of demons that constantly plotted against each other, occasionally erupting in an all-out war.

Johanna had gone mad, there was no way to ignore it any longer.

After Malthael's fall, Lyndon began to drift away from the Nephalem who kept on going around the world, hunting monsters of all sorts. The scoundrel himself wanted to find that treacherous bitch Rea, get the answers out of her about why she killed Edlin when their marriage had been such a happy one, then hopefully kill her and be done with this hellride. But no such luck: of course the woman was nowhere to be found around the city of Kingsport, where she said she would be waiting. Part of Lyndon wished she was caught and killed by the remaining forces of Malthael, and that her death was painful, but he had a feeling things weren't this straightforward. They never were when he was involved, it seemed.

So with his brother's avenging postponed, Lyndon had to find other excuses to put some distance between him and Johanna, which was also not an easy thing to do by a long shot. During their hair-rising adventures in Sanctuary, the High Heavens and even Pandemonium, Lyndon knew his companions well and trusted them fully, despite his original loner and drifter nature.

That all changed, however.

Something was definitely off about Johanna, as if something snapped in her. She had done what no other Crusader could ever do: avenge the Zakarum faith by killing the Prime Evil, and via him (her? Them?), Mephisto who had been responsible for the fall of the church. Supposedly there was another part of a Crusader's quest, talking about purging Sanctuary of all evil. A detail Johanna constantly and vehemently brought up when she was asked to just stop and take a goddamn rest every once in a while.

Lyndon had to wonder: where exactly did "evil" start and stop for a Crusader? Was it only about monsters and demons? Killers, mass murderers as well? Petty thieves? Con artists? People who were forced to commit a crime because they had no other option? People who stole food because they couldn't afford it? Despite being a hedonist in life, Lyndon knew the nature of "evil" wasn't always as clear as some believed. His own scoundrel career started when he stole some fruit for a hungry friend who couldn't afford it.

It was unclear whom Johanna was referring to when she said "evil". And this scared Lyndon, if he had to be honest with himself.

But so far, the Crusader only focused on leftover demons, monsters and quite hideous factions like the Coven, even if she was a bit too trigger-happy about them. Lyndon had begun to fall behind, declining more and more invitations to "looting adventures". He started going to other cities, but as luck would have it, Johanna's path sometimes crossed his. Those times, he had no other choice but to accompany her. These quests were often too weird for words. Once, they literally went to the Vault, the nest of those irritating little shit Treasure Goblins. For what reason exactly, Lyndon couldn't tell, but he was a tad bit distracted by the huge mountains of gold they found everywhere. Killing Greed, the Baroness of the Treasure Realm resulted in literal rain of money, so Lyndon couldn't really complain.

Still, after that Vault raiding party, Lyndon once again went on his separate way. He needed to be alone, to perhaps come to terms with what happened to his brother, and somehow, just somehow straighten out his life finally. He couldn't do this while dodging weapons and magical projectiles flying at his head. Lyndon found himself slowly avoiding more and more his usual haunts: gamble houses, guilds and brothels. At first he tried to trick himself into believing he still loved his old hobbies, but eventually he had to realize he had become fed up with them. Sure, the occasional pickpocketing still filled him with life, so he didn't fully lost his edge, but after Rea's treachery he positively found himself avoiding women.

So, it just so happened that one night, in a random city's random inn Lyndon was silently sitting at his table, sipping away his beer, lost deep in thought, when the door of said random inn almost imploded. Stepping through the wreckage was Johanna herself who marched up to the startled scoundrel's table, stopped before him and announced in a grave tone:

- We are going to raze the Realm of Hatred.

It remained a complete mystery how exactly the Nephalem found him like this. Lyndon tried to worm is way out of this downright suicide mission, but Johanna was adamant in dragging him along.

- You owe me, scoundrel! – she hissed menacingly.

For a brief second, Lyndon wanted to spit into her face and scream that he owned nothing to her. What was wrong with her?! She had never ever said anything like this before, let alone sounding exactly like those rotten pieces of shit at the Thieves Guild from Kingsport.

From that point on, Lyndon was positive something was amiss with the hero. It was no longer just her zeal or her sense of duty.

Seeing no way of getting out of this one, Lyndon surrendered.

- At least tell me why you want to go down there! – he pleaded. – How are we going to even get there?!

- The Black Soulstone was destroyed. I am sure that the spirits of the Evils now returned to their realms to reform and resume their rule – Johanna mumbled angrily. – What better way to stop that from happening than to go there and beat them there?

- You do realize we only buy more time at best, right? – Lyndon tried to reason. – Don't you remember what Tyrael said about this? No matter how many goddamn times the Evils are killed, they will reform eventually.

- More time is better than nothing! – Johanna shooed him away as she rummaged inside her traveling sack.

- What about Tyrael? Does he even know about this plan of yours?!

- He is busy with the Horadrim. I left him out of this.

Their party gathered on a small clearing in a forest in the middle of smack-dam-nowhere, pulling up a hasty camp of a bonfire and the caravans of the companions. Lyndon shot a pleading look at the others, but they all just shrugged, indicating that they have had this conversation with the Nephalem many times before.

- Kormac, you can't be on board with this! – the scoundrel hissed. – This is a suicide mission!

- As a Templar, my duty is to fight evil – the big man mumbled uneasily. – Johanna makes a valid point, scoundrel. We cannot ignore this threat.

- Eirena?!

- If it helps stopping the Evils from invading our home yet again, I go along – the enchantress said, not meeting his eyes.

The reactions of the others, Myriam, Haedrig and Shen, were similar. Lyndon began to have that sinking feeling that Johanna had blackmailed each of them into this, maybe telling them they owed her as well…

He should have jumped ship right there and then. Things would have turned out differently.

But being accustomed to constantly needing to save the goddamn world, he remained, just hoping that they would survive this shitshow somehow.

- So… how are we going to— – Lyndon turned around, surrendering to his fate, but his voice soon faltered.

Johanna pulled and spread out a huge papyrus from her bag, onto the ground. It was filled with all kinds of runes that simply reeked of evil and formed a relative circle around the middle. She was busy placing candles in certain points, as well as dumping blood from vials on others.

- What is that?! – Lyndon hiccupped.

- I had been planning this invasion for a while now – Johanna said simply. – I had members of the Coven create this spell that will open a portal to the Realm of Hatred. They know their magic, being the remnants of the Triune and all.

- You mean you tortured them, aren't you—Where is that blood even from?!

Johanna just sent a glance as if saying "duh", as she dumped the last of the vials onto the paper. Lyndon realized he didn't want to know.

As the last drop hit its surface, the scroll lit up with all the runes, and in a matter of seconds, a red oval-shaped portal was swirling before them in midair. Lyndon sent one last desperate glance at his comrades but both Kormac and Eirena dutifully readied their weapons. With a sigh of absolute defeat, the scoundrel reached for his crossbow.

- Wait for us here! – called Johanna over her shoulder to Miryam, Haedrig and Shen. – We will return with whatever we can find.

With that, she brandished her signature shield and flail, then stepped through the portal, followed by her companions.

oooOOOooo

All in all, the tour in the Realm of Hatred wasn't nearly as bad as Lyndon originally thought.

Sure, the place itself was pretty fucked up, with shifting paths, hovering islands of earth and stone, looming twisted obsidian fortresses left and right, weapons, armor and corpses littered everywhere, and the general red hue of the sky, but overall… Lyndon's been through worse.

Like trotting through the razed High Heavens, fighting their way across the demonic army. Or facing Malthael.

Yeah, definitely facing Malthael.

Fuck that guy.

Lyndon was the most surprised to say this but passing through the Realm of Hatred was like a walk in the park compared to that. Sure, there were enemies, zealous demons who jumped on them from nearly every corner and high ground imaginable, and sure, sometimes the edge or tip of a weapon came uncomfortably close to maim the scoundrel, but nothing serious actually happened. Having an overpowered Nephalem on the team can do that. The enemies basically melted before her. It also helped that the place was strangely desolate, and not at all "heavily populated" as the Book of Cain claimed. Perhaps the denizens fell in the invasion of the High Heavens. Perhaps they deserted the place once the news of the defeat of the Prime Evil reached their ears.

Thankfully the little group of heroes ignored most of the fortresses and went for the biggest one, possibly the former lair of Mephisto. On their way, they had to use some portal scrolls to go back to their camp and dump all the useless loot they gathered in the fight. It was incredible what amount of junk fell off of these monsters all the time, borderline ridiculous.

But eventually they found themselves rushing on one of the corridors of the main fort. It was a charming place, really: filled with the usual assortments of weapons, torture tools, mutilated heads and limbs of demons, chains, and lit iron torches, so they could see where they were going of course.

- So… what exactly are we looking for here? – Lyndon asked as he casually shot a charging demon with a triple bolt, killing the monster instantly.

Johanna didn't answer at first, but eventually she opened her mouth:

- Anything that remotely resembles a reforming Prime Evil. We find it, kill it, and move onto the other Realms.

- Great… an exclusive tour of the entire Burning Hells. Just what I always needed – Lyndon grumbled.

- We are doing this for Sanctuary, Lyndon! Watch your mouth! – Johanna glared at him.

- Do we really?! Honestly, Jo, you sound like a downright madman! Obsessed with the Evils – Lyndon finally snapped, lowering his crossbow. – What the hell is wrong with you?! You've never been like this!

- I am completely fine, scoundrel. I just know my duty!

- Yeah, and you sound just like Adria and Kulle! – Lyndon shouted, ignoring the obvious head-shaking of both Eirena and Kormac.

Johanna swiped with her flail and missed Lyndon only by a hair.

- Watch. Your. Mouth – she hissed, pointing her weapon at the frozen thief.

Then she turned around and stomped away. Lyndon remained rooted to his spot.

- Just go along with it, Lyndon – mumbled Kormac, awkwardly petting his shoulder as he passed by. – It is going to end faster this way.

- How can you be okay with this?! – Lyndon stared at him, feeling sweat trickling down on his temple. – She has clearly gone nuts!

- She just takes her duty very seriously – Eirena tried to defend her. – We all know how difficult that can be. And… she is right. We all owe her for—

- We owe her nothing! – Lyndon hissed. – When was the last time she ever, ever brought this up?! She always helped us because she felt it was the right thing to do, and we always helped her because of the same reason! How can you call her a "friend" when she is more like a debt collector at this point?!

Kormac looked away uneasily.

- Let's just go – he mumbled. – The sooner we find Mephisto and kill him, de sooner we can leave here.

Lyndon wiped his sweating forehead, snarling at the Templar. He then grabbed his crossbow with both hands so hard the handle almost snapped, and defiantly stormed past Kormac, going after Johanna.

This angry marching lasted for a whole four steps, before Lyndon stomped on a strange (and apparently loose) grid of some kind that gave away and crumbled into the hole it was supposed to cover, dragging the screaming scoundrel with him.

After a brief, but terrifying fall, complete with a couple of hard bounces off of weird vertical surfaces, Lyndon landed face first in a heap of clothes. Struggling to his feet and realizing he somehow survived the descent in one piece, he could hear the distant, muffled and unintelligible shouting of Kormac and Eirena. He had no idea what words were spoken to him, but he took a deep breath and shouted back from the top of his lungs:

- I'M OKAY! I'M ALIVE! TELL JOHANNA I FELL! I WILL FIND A WAY BACK TO YOU GUYS!

He could only hope his companions heard him. In any case, his voice should be enough indicator that he was still alive. That counts for something. Retrieving his crossbow from a nearby hill of textile, Lyndon began his sneaking around, exploring the place he found himself in.

It was some kind of storage area, maybe. There were distinct heaps everywhere, some were of weapons, others of armor, and the one he landed on was of textile and robes. He had no idea what the function of this room was. A storage? A collection of trophies from fallen enemies? That would explain the blood stains on many of the objects.

Hoping that no monster heard his shouting from before, Lyndon snuck out of the room via a huge doorway, arriving to a corridor. Picking blindly, he turned to the right and continued his way. The fort was eerie silent here, and the torches were few and far between. Lyndon got the distinct feeling of having tons of stone and ground above his head, meaning that it was probably the bowels of the building. Maybe a prison level or storages, or something.

Reaching the end Lyndon found himself facing a pretty uninteresting, one-winged wooden door that looked like it belonged into an inn, rather than the Evil Fortress of Evilness. The scoundrel uttered a soft prayer that he won't face a regiment of demons on the other side, he placed his hand on the handle, then with a deep breath he opened the way forward.

What awaited him beyond made him grow roots to the doorstep.

Behind the completely unassuming door a hall of incredible size lied. It was much larger than anything else they have seen so far, and what was even more bizarre, it was filled with mirrors. Literally, every inch of the walls, the ceiling and even most of the floor (except for two or three paths) were covered by those things. Torches burnt intensely, sticking out from the slits on the walls, their combined light giving the impression of a high noon on a clear day in Caldeum. The entirety of the Realm of Hatred did not have this much light in it as did this one hall.

Lyndon gawked, his eyes wandering at the sight, his own reflection looking back at him from a thousand different angles. Completely loss for words, the scoundrel finally turned his attention to the middle. A path among the floor mirrors led up to a pedestal and on the pedestal…

Lyndon quickly forgot about the hall and he rushed there, crying out in alarm.

In the middle knelt a huge angel, bound in chains. He (it was obviously a he) was in a terrible shape: most of his wing tendrils laid limply on the ground around him, torn out of their sockets, only stumps remained on his back. His armor was almost completely gone. Hooks stretched lobes of his fluorescent skin out like carpets from his back, arm and legs. Where his skin was still on his body, it was covered in scars and bruises, most of them swollen with a greenish-yellow hue. The angel's face was of course invisible, but it was framed by locks of white hair, and he had a broken pure gold tiara-like ornament on his forehead. He was staring before himself emptily and Lyndon realized he could actually see the angel's eyes for some reason: one red, the other blue. He constantly trembled, making the giant heavy chains around his form rattle.

Lyndon climbed the pedestal. This angel was obviously a hostage, kept here as an entertainment for the demons. Sure, the Angelic Host wasn't exactly the most sound or trustworthy ally of humankind, but they were still the good guys, opposing the demons. As far as Lyndon was concerned, they were an okay bunch, as long as they didn't start waving their weapons at him.

- H—hey, can you hear me? – he called out as he arrived to the top of the pedestal, that was covered in mirrors, just like everything else.

The angel didn't react to him at first, but then he twitched violently, making his bounds rattle loudly, and he slightly lifted his head to look at the human. From up close, Lyndon could make out another strange detail: he could actually see glimpses of features in that characteristic darkness. He thought he saw fangs, or perhaps tusks growing out of the mouth. He definitely saw scars and claw marks there, and the nose was missing like in the case of a human skull. The fanged mouth breathed heavily, and a white drop of saliva escaped from it. Other than that, the angel made no sound.

- It is alright! – Lyndon tried to sound reassuring, holding up his empty hands. – See? I'm not here to hurt you. I have a few friends. We will bust you out of here, I promise.

The angel trembled again at the motion, and Lyndon realized he probably thought he would get hurt.

- Hey, it is alright. I won't hurt you, I promise – he whispered, slowly, ever so slowly reaching out for the enormous head.

Those fangs could probably bite his arm clean off if the angel lunged forward, but he could barely breathe, let alone move. Lyndon had to wonder just how long he had been down here.

- Everything is going to be alright – he said soothingly as he gently placed one palm onto the top of the white hair, hoping to calm the prisoner down with the soft touch.

The angel promptly blew up at this.

Lyndon reared back, shouting in alarm as the large form burst into a million sparks that swarmed him like fireflies. He fell on his butt, nearly rolling down on the stairs of the pedestal. The scoundrel forced his eyes to open, but by that time the angel and his severed wing tendrils were all gone, and all that was left was a small bundle of pure warm, yet solid light on his laps. Lyndon froze up, staring wide-eyed at the thing that vaguely resembled the shape of a curled up bird, maybe a dove.

Hands shaking madly, he reached out and touched the bundle. Nothing happened this time. Hesitantly, Lyndon scooped it up into his arms. Still nothing. Standing up, he began to wonder what the actual hell has just happened and what he should do with this weird light dumpling, when he heard footsteps and voices from beyond the door leading here. Only half-thinking, he stuffed the bird-thing into one of his larger pouches, throwing out the gemstones from there first, then he grabbed his crossbow and whirled around on his heel, running to the door. He would meet the enemies in the corridor, and jump them.

Lyndon kicked the door open, but it was only Johanna, Kormac and Eirena. He let out a shaky breath and lowered his weapon.

- Lyndon, you are okay! – the enchantress exclaimed happily and hugged the stunned scoundrel.

Kormac scowled at the sight, but he too let out a relieved sigh.

Only Johanna seemed to be absolutely indifferent towards their reunion. Instead, she frowned, looking past Lyndon and into the hall. Pushing past them, she entered there, looking around bewildered.

- This—It should be here – she mumbled. – I don't get it.

Then she turned around and glared at Lyndon.

- What did you find here?! – she demanded.

Lyndon felt the hair on his neck stand up at that gaze. He almost moved his hand to place it onto his pouch but stopped himself a moment too soon.

- Nothing – he finally said, sounding bored. – Only the chains. And the mirrors. Oh and the hooks. Not even a single demon, can you believe it! It was so lonely down here without you guys.

- It must be some kind of weird torture chamber – Eirena mused as she too took a look inside.

- Yeah, but what about the mirrors? – Kormac asked.

- Who can tell what the demons are thinking, honestly? – Lyndon shrugged, putting on his best (and damn good) poker face.

- Good point – the Templar nodded.

Johanna glared at Lyndon some more before taking one last sweeping look of the hall.

- It should be here – she hissed to herself.

Lyndon felt his hand growing sweaty at this.

She was looking for the maimed angel. She had to be. But why?! How did she even know?!

- Whatever! Let's just find Mephisto and kill him again! – Johanna finally grumbled angrily, as she stormed past her companions yet again, disappearing down the corridor.

The three friends looked at each other, then shrugged and rushed after her. In the meantime, Lyndon tried to ignore the light bundle in his pouch, pulsing warmly and steadily like a heart.

Hello and welcome to my first ever Diablo fanfic! IF YOU ARE INTERESTED IN THE FUTURE OF THIS FIC, PLEASE READ THIS!

Okay, so "That First Spark" is currently a oneshot, for an important reason: This whole story came to me in a flash, and I just had to write it down. Thing is, I'm not exactly sure how to continue it. I'm currently brainstorming with ideas and possible storylines that would span over numerous chapters of course. But for now nothing is certain. I WOULD like to make it into a longer fanfic, but without a good story I'm not going to.

I would really welcome and appreciate your helpful criticism and reviews, though! Keep in mind, I do NOT ask for possible story ideas, merely whether this little oneshot is good or not.

Also, Disclaimer: the Johanna in this fic is NOT the one from Heroes of the Storm. I have a Crusader named Johanna, after Jean d'Arc from France ("Johanna" is the Hungarian equivalent of "Jean"). It somehow fitted her perfectly. I only discovered the HoTS character AFTER I made my Crusader.

As for now, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! :D Here's hoping I can write it further!