them Balzael, who stepped forward as Tyrael approached. He appeared about to speak, but Imperius swept his second-in-command aside as he strode up to Tyrael, wings extended in a blaze of light. “Your attempts to persuade our sister to join your side were misguided,” he said. “It is forbidden to pursue a debate in the days before it is taken up in a Council session. You have jeopardized the entire Council with your recklessness. Has your mortal flesh clouded your vision?”
Ever since Tyrael had made the decision to shed his wings, forever altering his relationship with the Council, their conflict had remained unresolved and hung over them all like a dark cloud. “Do not let our unfinished business taint your thinking,” Tyrael replied. “What happens here today has nothing to do with the anger you hold for my choices.”
“Wisdom.” Imperius’s wings trembled with rage or mirth; Tyrael could not decide. “Is that your advice for me from consulting the pools? I think not. A mortal who peers into the chalice may go blind, Tyrael. Perhaps you are afraid of what you might see.”
“I fear nothing but your lust for conflict. The stone’s influence ishaving an impact on the High Heavens, even now. Valor does not mean the execution of innocents.”
“Nonsense,” Imperius said. “The stone cannot harm us here. You see this as an opportunity for peace, but peace shall not exist until Sanctuary has been destroyed. Sacrifices must be made for the victory we seek. The Prime Evil nearly brought us to our knees, Tyrael! Never have the gates fallen before. There is no room for mercy—not anymore!”
He turned to enter the chamber, as if dismissing Tyrael from his sight. The archangel of Wisdom caught his armored arm. Power raced through Tyrael’s flesh, nearly making him gasp. He gritted his teeth. “Do not do this, Imperius,” he said. “There is also great goodness in them. Do not turn your back on the chance we have been given.”
Balzael stepped forward again, but Imperius waved him away. He shook off Tyrael’s touch as if disgusted by it, and the tone of pity his voice took on was far worse than his anger .
“The world of men has threatened our existence for too long,” Imperius said. “It is a tool for the Hells to use against us. You have chosen to join their mortal ranks, and your judgment can no longer be trusted. You will learn, soon enough. The Council will act, whether you like it or not.”
“Do not forget that the last time the fate of Sanctuary rested with the Council, the final vote was in favor of its existence,” Auriel said. “In order to reopen such a debate, you must present evidence of a fundamental change that requires it.”
“The evidence is clear,” Imperius thundered from his perch above the Council floor. The archangel of Valor leaned forward as he gestured toward the Black Soulstone, his wings snapping in ribbons of light around his golden armor, his commanding voice filling the room as he turned to Itherael and Auriel. “It sits in mute judgment before us all.”
“Do you not think the stone is safe here, among us?” Auriel asked .
“We have argued this many times. The greatest threat lies not withthe stone but with the men who created it. We have failed to act for far too long. And while we argue endlessly through the ages, the Burning Hells continue to whisper their foul secrets in the ears of humans, influencing souls and using their world against us. The soulstone is yet another example of this. Forged by men, Auriel! If not for that, would the gates of Heaven have fallen to the Prime Evil? Would we have lost so many of our brothers and sisters and come so close to the Arch shattering before us?”
“That is not so certain as you make it out to be,” Auriel said. Tyrael watched her from his own seat above the floor. Her voice remained calm, in direct opposition to Imperius’s impassioned speech, but he sensed an edge to it that he had last felt when they
Ever since Tyrael had made the decision to shed his wings, forever altering his relationship with the Council, their conflict had remained unresolved and hung over them all like a dark cloud. “Do not let our unfinished business taint your thinking,” Tyrael replied. “What happens here today has nothing to do with the anger you hold for my choices.”
“Wisdom.” Imperius’s wings trembled with rage or mirth; Tyrael could not decide. “Is that your advice for me from consulting the pools? I think not. A mortal who peers into the chalice may go blind, Tyrael. Perhaps you are afraid of what you might see.”
“I fear nothing but your lust for conflict. The stone’s influence ishaving an impact on the High Heavens, even now. Valor does not mean the execution of innocents.”
“Nonsense,” Imperius said. “The stone cannot harm us here. You see this as an opportunity for peace, but peace shall not exist until Sanctuary has been destroyed. Sacrifices must be made for the victory we seek. The Prime Evil nearly brought us to our knees, Tyrael! Never have the gates fallen before. There is no room for mercy—not anymore!”
He turned to enter the chamber, as if dismissing Tyrael from his sight. The archangel of Wisdom caught his armored arm. Power raced through Tyrael’s flesh, nearly making him gasp. He gritted his teeth. “Do not do this, Imperius,” he said. “There is also great goodness in them. Do not turn your back on the chance we have been given.”
Balzael stepped forward again, but Imperius waved him away. He shook off Tyrael’s touch as if disgusted by it, and the tone of pity his voice took on was far worse than his anger .
“The world of men has threatened our existence for too long,” Imperius said. “It is a tool for the Hells to use against us. You have chosen to join their mortal ranks, and your judgment can no longer be trusted. You will learn, soon enough. The Council will act, whether you like it or not.”
“Do not forget that the last time the fate of Sanctuary rested with the Council, the final vote was in favor of its existence,” Auriel said. “In order to reopen such a debate, you must present evidence of a fundamental change that requires it.”
“The evidence is clear,” Imperius thundered from his perch above the Council floor. The archangel of Valor leaned forward as he gestured toward the Black Soulstone, his wings snapping in ribbons of light around his golden armor, his commanding voice filling the room as he turned to Itherael and Auriel. “It sits in mute judgment before us all.”
“Do you not think the stone is safe here, among us?” Auriel asked .
“We have argued this many times. The greatest threat lies not withthe stone but with the men who created it. We have failed to act for far too long. And while we argue endlessly through the ages, the Burning Hells continue to whisper their foul secrets in the ears of humans, influencing souls and using their world against us. The soulstone is yet another example of this. Forged by men, Auriel! If not for that, would the gates of Heaven have fallen to the Prime Evil? Would we have lost so many of our brothers and sisters and come so close to the Arch shattering before us?”
“That is not so certain as you make it out to be,” Auriel said. Tyrael watched her from his own seat above the floor. Her voice remained calm, in direct opposition to Imperius’s impassioned speech, but he sensed an edge to it that he had last felt when they
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