The Resurgence of Diablo

PART ONE

by Maru Tamehana

Chapter One

VALOUR

The angels were convened in Angirim Council to consider this last proposal. Although Tyrael had shed his immortality, and dwelled between places as a mortal who was nonetheless one of the angel's most prominent arch-angels, he now led the Angirim Council himself, and Justice reigned now in the Heavens. Although the Arch-Angel of Valour had to step down from the position, once filled by Wisdom – the angels had been in some doubt, but the doubts had been dispelled in time.

But for this latest debate, they were asked if a human, a monk, could elevate themselves to the status of an angel. After all, Tyrael had made himself into a man, with mortal flesh and blood, although without the daemonic taint of the race of humanity. This alone, stood him apart.

"We were produced by the Crystal Arch, a human cannot simply become one of us." The Archangel known as the Angel of Valour proclaimed from his place.

Ithariel nodded, although her veil glimmered with the shadow of angelic sadness.

Then matters turned to the world in the state it was after the defeat of Diablo, the king of daemons - and even Malthael, an angel much beloved who had turned to the destruction and death of humanity recently, in order to bring about his own vision of justice without compassion. As he was the Angel of Wisdom once, that was no doubt the lens through which he perceived his actions, but just as Tyrael could not see the wisdom in it, he could neither see the justice, something which he was pre-eminent to judge, if that were not a tautologous announcement worthy of these sacred halls.

It seemed that any one attribute, taken too far, lost it's place eventually, without a shared understanding to balance it. Malthael had become the extreme vision of his own pursuit, and as there was no need to restrict things on a being of purity, such as an angel, he had no restraint, and followed it all the way to the end, even when it was the extinction of humanity itself, which an angel should have been bound to protect.

It seemed it was a folly of its own, and Tyrael had spent much of his new mortal life studying this. Angels were self-sufficient creatures, of an irony with their unity and despite their Council (and this was perhaps why it was necessary), but their greatness and their strength could risk them all. Tyrael himself knew himself to be often accused of this.

His own fall to Sanctuary had awakened many dangerous spirits which had taken some heroic effort to quell.

An angel must turn his attention to mighty matters, but would humans be lost in the scuffle? Was he not wise enough? He was not Malthael, and it was tempting to believe that Justice prevailed over all other things, but that was precisely as Malthael believed – in his own Wisdom.

Perhaps there was a time coming when they would all be put on trial. He did not know whether the thought amused him or not – it was certainly a grave matter.

Grave thought for an angel, but he must dwell on them all the same. He missed occasionally, the feel of his wings and power – but he would walk in humility with what was given him. He had received freely since the beginning, perhaps now was the time that he would repay a debt that never could be.

He wondered what Imperius would make of that? But then again, Tyrael supposed that wasn't what was important.

He had heard there were other angels out in the world. Those who had separated from Heaven, on journeys of their own. The Enchantress spoke of one that was well known – who she knew as the Prophet, and had many disturbing details to relate on her own account. Ones which it was not Tyrael's place to pry into.

Tyrael had however, promised that if they ever wished it, he would provide the mortals transport back to Heaven, and there were angels there who might have time for them.

The gateway between Sanctuary and the High Heavens had been crossed for the first time, and the angels found this time appropriate to once again let their presence be known among mortals.

Before this, merely legend, appearing as a light in dark dungeons to the lost hero here and there. Tyrael himself had a great love for humanity and this world, and strove to aid them. But he was not the only angel who had yielded to compassion, who was moved by those traits of nobility held in high regard.

Even Imperius, though he did not speak of it, must have once. Unyielding though he was – there must have been someone, a warrior amongst men, who had gotten his invincible attention. The darkness of demons was a threat to all creation, and always the angels drew plans on how to combat it.

Tyrael spoke. "Although Diablo is not walking the world yet again, still his shadow precedes him, sweeping into every nook and cranny, searching out those with a weakness to sin, in the lowest basements or the farthest reaches of lands even I have not espied in my time walking there."

The Angirim Council had all agreed that this issue was, as always, paramount – and perhaps the time for restraining intervention in Sanctuary could be lessened, given the wantonness of the demons that coveted it. They were glutted with greed, able to slake their demonic thirst on the weaker inhabitants of Sanctuary, fleeing rather than braving the swords of angels. But there were stout men among them, who had proven themselves able heroes – and so the demons would perhaps no longer find their presence as tolerated as it was hidden before. Tyrael himself, believed in strengthening the humans for their own battles, and at the least, forewarned was forearmed.

"Then let us illuminate it as angels. I myself shall seek out this land." The Angel of Valour spoke, and flourished his burning wings before the Council.

Barely the word was given before he departed. The other angels took note – the angel was decisive as always, and no doubt would gain results.

In this, Tyrael concurred. Whatever his faults, the Angel of Valour was a spirit who battled for the light, harsh and unforgiving though he might be. Even he was forced to accept the valour of those heroes who had struggled against Diablo, many of them perishing before the greatest of their number managed the killing blow at the last battle.

It had been desperate folly, and yet the mortal had prevailed. Tyrael would never cease to be astonished by it – perhaps the angels overlooked humankind too often.

After all, it was angels that attempted to curtail the potential of humanity originally. Tyrael wondered, if their former might was restored, would they have reason to fear Hell any longer? Or had Heaven, in its infinite wisdom, made them into sheep, cattle to be butchered, and congratulated themselves for their superiority, doling out false admiration on the few heroes to break free of those shackles they themselves placed on them.

So many things to think on, and with mortals, eternity was too long or not long enough.

"Go, angel of Valour," he spoke, and for a moment it was as if Heaven spoke with him, shimmering from every tower and sparkling edifice. "Go and find our answers."

Imperius, perhaps, had much to prove.