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The sun traced its path across the sky over and over and over again, and not one of its journeys mattered.
The Firstborn of the Angelic Host rarely concerned himself with time throughout his existence. He was born before that phenomenon even existed fully, and his neverending search for answers left no room for such trifling detail. The Eternal Conflict had forced him to be more aware of its passing, true, but overall Malthael had never been a slave of time.
Especially not now when—
Malthael clamped down on that thought.
Think nothing.
Feel nothing.
He remained unmoving in his chair, among these thick, primitively-built walls. He dimly registered the scholar demonspawn, Abd al-Hazir moving about occasionally, trying to talk to Malthael, but the angel refused to rise to the outside world. He had been the First Note of Anu once, and now he was the ultimate failure. A speck of dust should have had more say in the flow of Creation than he did. He had ruined all that was his responsibility once, he lost the right to be a living sentient being.
Think nothing.
Feel nothing.
Be nothing.
oooOOOooo
A small part of him betrayed him.
Malthael could hear sounds. Noises coming through the large glass window, betraying the happenings on the streets below. Most were random, occasional sounds, often unrecognizable for the angel. Others had a rhythm to them, a daily routine his awareness eventually picked up on. Someone shouting about the latest news and declarations every noon. The clinging of city guard armor as they patrolled the street every couple of hours. An obnoxious sharp bird cry at the crack of dawn… And a choir following it shortly after.
Despite Malthael’s best efforts, he soon was focusing on those distant songs that flew above this hellhole called Westmarch, every morning and every evening. Female humans greeted and said farewell to the sun, their words too muffled to make out but their voices stubbornly cutting through the chaos. It was a mere shadow of Auriel’s angelic chorus, and yet it was the most beautiful string of sounds he had ever heard on this godforsaken world. He did not know humans were capable of such performance, and it intrigued a small but subtly ever-growing part of his.
So Malthael began to do one thing: he listened to the chorus.
oooOOOooo
He was standing up now, walking out of the room every morning and every night. He would walk into the gallery of the main reading room, to step out through the largest window and onto a small balcony, which was nearer to wherever the human females were singing. He still did not talk to the scholar demonspawn, he did not acknowledge anything but the chorus. But that chorus…
It reminded him of his home. A home he can never ever go back to yet he did not want to fully let go. He just wanted to hear the songs and remember what it had been like to be back at his tower, pondering, documenting, meditating. A bittersweet feeling, but Malthael had nothing else to hold onto. He had no right for anything else, but perhaps he could have this.
One sunset Malthael once again walked across the gallery towards his balcony. He placed his hands on the wings of the window, ready to push them open, and—
- He destroyed Caldeum! How can you protect him?!
Malthael froze.
Caldeum. That word stabbed through him. He remembered it well. He had personally chosen that city as Ground Zero for the Black Soulstone. The largest locality, the densest population.
“The perfect target…”
Malthael shuddered, grabbing his head, he couldn’t turn away from the window. He wished he did not remember anything, he wished he could not recall what the torrent of souls felt like coming to him, merging into him, giving him unimaginable power yet turning him into nothing. With every last screaming life he consumed, he had lost more of what he once was, what he should have been, what he had tried to do in the first place, to protect his own people…
- I-I know, but—I mean, he is—
- You should make him pay for it, not cuddle him like a stray cat! You are from there!
To this Malthael turned around. Beyond the gallery railings, the main reading room stretched far and wide (by human standards), filled with bookshelves, tables, reading corners and ladders. Between two rows of cases, three Archivists were arguing: two enraged and fuming younger students against the uncertain and shaken Abd al-Hazir.
Abd al-Hazir who was from Caldeum.
Abd al-Hazir was from Caldeum.
Malthael stormed back inside his room, the chorus forgotten.
oooOOOooo
- Why?!
Malthael hardly cared that the bookcase nearly collapsed as he smacked his hand against it, towering over Abd al-Hazir.
- Wh—what? – the scholar blinked up at him with genuine confusion and fear.
He was holding a random tome close to his chest like a shield.
What in the hells was wrong with this human?! Where was the rage?
- Why are you doing this?! I have destroyed your home! – Malthael boomed, his entire body shaking.
- Mal, I really don’t—
- I have personally chosen that city to be a target. Everyone there had a slow and painful death. I have consumed their souls! Why are you not out for just revenge? What is wrong with you?!
There was heavy silence. Abd stared at Malthael, his usual aloof smile nowhere to be found. There was something in the human’s eyes beyond the confusion, and the angel recognized with it shock as it came forward. It was genuine sadness. Why wasn’t this demonspawn raging?! He should be screaming curses, he should be attacking Malthael or sealing him away in a book or any other godforsaken—!
- Did I ever tell you my birth name? – Abd suddenly spoke up, voice soft and shaking.
Malthael stopped.
- Because it is not Abd al-Hazir. I was given that name was I was thirteen – the human went on as he sat down in one of two chairs nearby, clutching his book hard.
Malthael followed him with his eyes but did not make a move. He did not know what to think anymore.
- The name “Abd al-Hazir” is actually… well, it basically means “Joe of the Street”, especially in Caldeum. It literally is a nobody, the most average everyday person you can think of, truly – Abd began, smiling sadly, although his tight grip betrayed how anxious he was. – I was born Farouq Saqib al-Masudi, and I am the last surviving member of a noble family.
He took a deep breath, trying to recollect himself as he glanced down at the book.
- The al-Masudi had been a very powerful dynasty once. We had overseen important trading routes to the west and the north, we controlled and supplied many weapon factories, in short we probably had more influence, truly, than the emperor himself. And… so did another family, the Hisham dynasty. We were rivals.
Another pause. Malthael sat down in front of the human silently.
- The two families had been fighting for some generations by the time I was born. A cycle of bloody vengeance went on and on and on. One family member would get killed in some brutal way, then their relatives would retaliate with even worse methods… I—I grew up in that. Every month I would hear such news: “your cousin Irfan had been poisoned, we shall avenge him.” And they would go and kill a Hisham child in return. I had been sometimes dragged out of bed in the middle of the night and had to flee from an invading party of assassins. My grandparents, my aunts and uncles, all my cousins, my three brothers… they all met horrible ends. And so did those on the Hisham side.
Abd was tracing patterns on the book’s cover with his finger, his eyes welling up.
- When I turned ten… my mother had been poisoned. Right at the dinner table. I do not know how it happened, but I watched her struggle for air, her own blood bubbling out of her mouth and nose for minutes before it was finally over. I remember my father cuddling her, screaming in grief and rage, already swearing he would make all the Hisham pay. I remember… my mother staring at me as the light left her eyes…
With a sharp breath, Abd sat up straight, rubbing his eyes.
- Three years after that, one night a good servant called Aisha got me out of bed, packed some of my things, then snuck me out of the palace. An hour later the building exploded into magical flames that killed everyone inside, all the servants, all my remaining relatives. My father included. A few hours later, the Hisham residence suffered similar fate, and I do not know if anyone made it out of there. I hope they did. In a final desperate push, both families hired mage assassins, it turned out later at the royal court. Both noble lines were assumed dead and gone. I grew up with Aisha in a small shack, she named me Abd al-Hazir to keep me safe. I grew to wear this name as my own, I have taught in Caldeum’s academies with this name.
Malthael tilted down his hood, he could not bear Abd’s gaze.
- I have made an oath to myself when my mother died in front of me – the human said in a broken voice. – I vowed that I shall never ever take revenge upon anybody. For anything. It is pointless. It is meaningless. All it creates is more pain for generations to come, and there is no end to it.
He needed a moment to regain his breath, but instead he choked up.
- I don’t know if—it is the “right” way to live, or the—the cleverest one. Perhaps not, perhaps I am truly a fool for-for choosing this path. But I grew up in that madness, I have s-seen what it can do. And I—I refuse to give it anymore fuel, it stops with me. It is my own choice.
Abd finally ducked his head to wipe his tears away again.
- Sorry—sorry – he sniffled. – I… It probably hasn’t sunk in yet for me, the—the-the thought of Caldeum utterly gone. The Jewel of the East, truly our pride and joy and… But—but I know for a fact that if I were to take revenge, it would achieve nothing. It wouldn’t bring back anyone, or rebuild a single house in the streets… – here he actually cracked a smile. – And—and I am a historian, I kn-know how just how many times the country of Kehjistan has rebuilt itself from the ashes. The Sin War, Kurast, the Mage Wars, all this… I know it will rise again, better and stronger than-than before, just like it had always done. Humans are resourceful, Mal, they truly are. Maybe it will not happen in my life—lifetime. But with a bit of luck, it will… and I w-will be there to witness it.
Malthael remained silent. He looked away, his hands wrangling each other, his feet pulled up into an uncomfortable pose in the short chair. There was so much to say, yet he couldn’t force a single word out.
- It’s—okay if you think I am stupid – Abd waved with a bitter chuckle. – I deserve it, truly. Especially for the likes of you… you have seen and lived through so much more than my entire family tree did. I am-sure you know better than I do, truly—
- No – Malthael finally said, still looking away.
Abd stopped, confused.
- I… never believed in luck – the angel said softly. – I always prepared for it in my planning, I had backup solutions in case it took the enemy’s side in anything. But I… never believed I personally had any luck. I thought if I… accounted for everything, it would not be a factor in my life.
He turned to Abd:
- Now look at me. I have fallen from grace farther than anyone in the history of time itself… and yet I find myself in the presence of the one being who can rise above the worst this existence can offer… and he calls me a friend, when I deserve punishment and retribution. This is… this is all the Luck in all of Creation. Right here.
- I am certain I am not unique, Mal, truly – Abd sniffled, slowly recollecting himself. – And of course you are my friend! We went through so much in such a short amount of time together, I know you can be a good person!
Malthael would have snorted at that last comment. What a joke…
- The others attack you because of me – he said instead.
- What? No! I mean… not physically, of course not! There is no place for fighting in the Great Library, only for arguing and debating – Abd quickly defended himself. – But y-yeah they are not happy about your presence, truly. I am sure they will come around eventually! We just need to prove them wrong.
- Why do you not leave me? You could do so without taking your revenge.
- Because we are friends. You just said it yourself – Abd finally rested the book on his lap with a sigh, his grip loosening. – Mal, I… I just want to you to be okay. I can see we have a lot in common, I mean… learning about things is such a fine way to live one’s life, truly, yes? And-and you are also an angel! Angels are born for good, if anyone-anyone at all deserves a second chance, it is you, I am sure of it!
Abd ran his fingers across his hair in worry.
- I just… I just wish you were trying as well – he finished suddenly.
Malthael looked at him. Abd paled and covered his mouth with both hands, pure mortification twisting his features.
- Oh gods, I am-I am so sorry, Mal! I-I-I know you are going through a lot lately, I’m such an idiot, truly, I shouldn’t have said anything! I’m so sorry! – he stammered, rocking back and forth in his chair from agitation.
Malthael did not even hear those words. Trying. Yes, he seemed to recall that trying was an important part of life. Lyndon was trying to find that strange being called Quiet. Abd was trying to keep Malthael safe and make sure he was okay. The humans down in the streets were trying to make a living every day. His own people were trying their absolute damnest to survive in this death trap of a world. He looked down at his hands. What has he been trying to do so far? He tried to ignore the world, to not move, to not think, to not feel.
I am the abject failure of Creation.
True.
Bottom of the deepest pit imaginable.
Also true.
Conventional wisdom says at the truly rock bottom, there is only way to go: up. Trying could not possibly lead any deeper than this.
Malthael closed his fists loosely.
- Abd, I want to become an Archivist.