Read Online Diablo III: Storm of Light by Nate Kenyon - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Nate Kenyon
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knowledge but had yet to access the hidden wells of power they possessed, and it was possible that they never would. The wizard was undeniably talented but equally headstrong and cynical; her scars were not physical and yet ran deeper than most and would provide a great challenge to overcome. And the barbarian was a woman without a tribe or a sense of place, possessing outward strength but little confidence.
A group of strangers and nothing more , Tyrael thought. He was reminded of a moment centuries ago, when he had faced another band of humans with a task that seemed nearly impossible. But this was the greater challenge. What they might become, should they choose to embrace what he was about to tell them, remained up to him.
“My apologies for the use of secrecy,” he said. “You have all braved great dangers already. But it was necessary for reasons you will soon understand. Your meeting here in Tristram is not by chance.”
“It was you,” the wizard Shanar said. The words sounded like an accusation. “ You’re behind the resonance!”
“The man who appeared to me with a message from the gods,” Mikulov said.
The others murmured softly in the firelight. “It has been written, many times, that the archangel Tyrael walked among men,” the scholar, Cullen, said. “And we have heard as much from Leah more recently. But—forgive me—you’re no angel.”
“I have chosen to assume mortal form,” Tyrael said. “There is much to explain. I knew your former leader, Horadrim, a man of great honor. His sacrifice for our cause shall not be forgotten.”
“We traveled many miles to construct a monument here, only to find one already stands, far more impressive than anything we might have done,” Thomas said. He turned back to the pyramid of white stone. The Horadric symbol at its apex appeared to glow in the moonlight. “This is your doing?”
Tyrael nodded. “As long as Sanctuary exists, it cannot be destroyed. It will stand in testament to Deckard’s courage—a shining light in the darkness.” He studied the faces turned toward him, waiting. They remained suspicious of one another and of him, and what he was about to tell them would likely make things far worse.
There was so much work to do and little time left.
“Let us build a fire to warm ourselves and keep away the dark,” he said. “And then I will tell you everything.”
They built a ring of stones and carried limbs from the dead trees that dotted the hillside. Thomas used a flint on the blackened, diseased wood, but the spark would not catch until Shanar’s magic set it ablaze. The flames that rose up risked calling attention to the gathering, but they were all glad to feel the heat, as the night had grown icy-cold and ever darker around them.
The group sat in clusters: Mikulov and the Horadrim together; Shanar, Jacob, and Gynvir giving Zayl plenty of space. The barbarian had not reslung her battle axe since the necromancer’s appearance.
Tyrael told them the story of the creation of Sanctuary millennia ago by the angel Inarius, who had left the High Heavens after tiring of the Eternal Conflict and who wanted a place hidden from both sides, where like-minded angels and demons could exist in harmony. Against all odds, Inarius fell in love with the demon Lilith, daughter of Mephisto. Their unholy union resulted in the firstborn nephalem—Rathma, Bul-Kathos, Esu, and others—an entirely new kind of powerful being that populated the world and began to multiply, in spite of attempts to destroy them. Over the centuries, their offspring would eventually evolve into humans, and although with each generation their abilities were diminished by the presence of the Worldstone, enough of their powers remained to give rise to the magic that existed now.
“With the Worldstone’s destruction twenty years ago,” Tyrael continued, “these nephalem abilities have begun to strengthen once again in those humans who are able to harness the secrets
A group of strangers and nothing more , Tyrael thought. He was reminded of a moment centuries ago, when he had faced another band of humans with a task that seemed nearly impossible. But this was the greater challenge. What they might become, should they choose to embrace what he was about to tell them, remained up to him.
“My apologies for the use of secrecy,” he said. “You have all braved great dangers already. But it was necessary for reasons you will soon understand. Your meeting here in Tristram is not by chance.”
“It was you,” the wizard Shanar said. The words sounded like an accusation. “ You’re behind the resonance!”
“The man who appeared to me with a message from the gods,” Mikulov said.
The others murmured softly in the firelight. “It has been written, many times, that the archangel Tyrael walked among men,” the scholar, Cullen, said. “And we have heard as much from Leah more recently. But—forgive me—you’re no angel.”
“I have chosen to assume mortal form,” Tyrael said. “There is much to explain. I knew your former leader, Horadrim, a man of great honor. His sacrifice for our cause shall not be forgotten.”
“We traveled many miles to construct a monument here, only to find one already stands, far more impressive than anything we might have done,” Thomas said. He turned back to the pyramid of white stone. The Horadric symbol at its apex appeared to glow in the moonlight. “This is your doing?”
Tyrael nodded. “As long as Sanctuary exists, it cannot be destroyed. It will stand in testament to Deckard’s courage—a shining light in the darkness.” He studied the faces turned toward him, waiting. They remained suspicious of one another and of him, and what he was about to tell them would likely make things far worse.
There was so much work to do and little time left.
“Let us build a fire to warm ourselves and keep away the dark,” he said. “And then I will tell you everything.”
They built a ring of stones and carried limbs from the dead trees that dotted the hillside. Thomas used a flint on the blackened, diseased wood, but the spark would not catch until Shanar’s magic set it ablaze. The flames that rose up risked calling attention to the gathering, but they were all glad to feel the heat, as the night had grown icy-cold and ever darker around them.
The group sat in clusters: Mikulov and the Horadrim together; Shanar, Jacob, and Gynvir giving Zayl plenty of space. The barbarian had not reslung her battle axe since the necromancer’s appearance.
Tyrael told them the story of the creation of Sanctuary millennia ago by the angel Inarius, who had left the High Heavens after tiring of the Eternal Conflict and who wanted a place hidden from both sides, where like-minded angels and demons could exist in harmony. Against all odds, Inarius fell in love with the demon Lilith, daughter of Mephisto. Their unholy union resulted in the firstborn nephalem—Rathma, Bul-Kathos, Esu, and others—an entirely new kind of powerful being that populated the world and began to multiply, in spite of attempts to destroy them. Over the centuries, their offspring would eventually evolve into humans, and although with each generation their abilities were diminished by the presence of the Worldstone, enough of their powers remained to give rise to the magic that existed now.
“With the Worldstone’s destruction twenty years ago,” Tyrael continued, “these nephalem abilities have begun to strengthen once again in those humans who are able to harness the secrets
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