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The Hunter and the Templar	By : BurneHazard Category: +A through F > Diablo III Views: 6473 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: Diablo III (3) and all content therein is the property of Blizzard Entertainment. This story is for entertainment purposes only and I make no money from writing it.

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            The sun was near to rising. It was visible from where a very wide-awake hunter sat in the shadows of a rocky outcropping amidst pale golden sands. She stared at the distant horizon as the light bled through the night and began to push it away for the coming day. And although it was truly a beautiful sight, the stormy hazel eyes were not fully appreciating the view since the mind behind them was caught in a chaotic storm of thoughts.
            Killashandra had not moved once the blood and grit had been washed from Kormac's unconscious body. Covering his almost completely nude body with her cloak, she left his head on her lap to sleep himself out. Her armor had managed to keep her warm enough and in truth, cold had never really bothered her much at all. Neither did heat, even if both could affect her, she simply did not care much about either.
            One hand rested lightly curled about Kormac's neck. His pulse rested beneath her fingertips. Slow, steady. It was how she knew he was asleep rather than just unconscious. And it also provided her first alarm when one of the beats came a little faster. Blinking at long last, the hunter lowered her gaze to regard the man. He would be waking soon. She was not ready to face him, yet.
            Very carefully and slowly as not to hasten his return to the living, she disentangled herself and gently lowered his head to rest on his cloak which was the one they had been resting upon. Rising quietly, she moved to where her bow and quiver rested. Picking them up, she stepped around the spider crouching in the opening between the rocks. A simple hand signal told it to stay and continue to guard as she moved off.
            Moving out onto the sands, the bat put in its appearance and dropped to her shoulders. Although it was not exceedingly large, it was as big as her head so both shoulders and her back were required for its perch. The companion nuzzled her hair for a moment longer than it normally did before taking off once more. As it flew--she gently undid the magic--it became a puff of shadow that dissipated like wind-caught smoke.
            Walking toward the growing light, she paused to glance behind her. No wind erased her footprints. In the early pre-dawn, it was rare for the air to be stirred on any given day regardless of the region. She knew such things from her field training when she was in her later teens. Her mentors had been very strict about learning everything she could in addition to her fighting abilities. Sadly, nothing they had taught her was helping her to sort through her thoughts.

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            The soft clanking of metal against metal as someone made their way across the sands broke her out of her dark trail of thought. Although at first she suspected it was Kormac, there was something vastly different. Even before she opened her eyes and turned her head toward the source of the sound, she knew who it was that approached her.
            "Tyrael."
            "Shandra," came the rich, deep voice.
            A very faint smile touched her lips before she looked away from the approaching ex-angel.
            "No one's called me that for...many years."
            "I know. The last one to call you that was your second mentor," the large man said as he drew to a stop beside her.
            A brief pang of pain and loss caused her heart to clench briefly as she bowed her head once more to resume her meditation. Of course, she knew it was futile. Even before she had been interrupted, she had not been able to clear her mind enough to enter the heightened state of focus. Still, as stubborn as always, she attempted it again. Time passed. At last she let go of the attempt and opened her eyes again to stare at the golden-white washed horizon.
            "Something is troubling you, Shandra," Tyrael said softly as he too watched the sunrise break. "I felt it even from the camp. Even you should not have come this far out without at least letting Leah know."
            The hunter remained quiet. The ex-angel's golden eyes finally turned toward her once more. Killa had seated herself on a sharp dune formed by sand that had been blown over a broken old cart's debris. Positioned lotus style, she looked almost relaxed. But even without the lingering gloom of the retreating night, he saw shadows on her face and in her eyes where there should have been none.
            "Leah always worries. She's a good girl, kind and gentle. By now, she should know I can take care of myself."
            "That knowledge will not make her stop worrying. If anything, her caring nature only makes her worry more for those she has gotten close to."
            "Cain's loss is still an open wound on her heart," the hunter mused.
            "As humans say, "It takes one to know one", correct?"
            Nodding once, the hunter went silent once more as a frown worked its way across her lips and furrows creased her forehead above and between her sharply angled brows.
            "You have something you need to speak about, don't you, Shandra?"
            "Since you know that name and the source of it, may I safely assume you know some of my past?"
            Tyrael was quiet for a few moments before nodding, "Yes, I do. I was the Arch-Angel of Justice. And try as I might, long as I might, I was unable to come to you that day. Just as I failed to serve my stead for those who took you in and taught you how to survive."
            "No one can be perfect all of the time," she said with a bitter voice.
            "Are you thinking of your family now?" he asked.
            "No," she responded almost sharply. "I've been thinking about...my path. About what I've been taught. I've been turning over every aspect of training I can remember, every slip of conversation had with my mentors."
            "You are seeking some sort of answer then," he mused.
            The hazel eyes were cold and sharp when they turned to him. His own golden eyes bore heat and light that only reminded her of the look within Kormac's eyes in the final moments before he lapsed into unconsciousness. Suddenly uncomfortable, she looked back toward the sunrise. But Tyrael had seen something in that brief moment.
            "Perhaps I may provide some answers, if I but knew the questions," he offered.
            "I'm not even sure what questions to ask at this point," she admitted.
            "Why not begin with the heaviest weight upon your mind at this moment?"
            Sighing, she shook her head. However, his advice was sound according to her own common sense. The problem was that so many thoughts were crashing together that she just had no clue which to speak on.
            "Cain and Leah have both told me tales about nephalem. I have read some of the tales myself. But...they are accounts made by some third or fourth party. The information is...faulty and scattered."
            Turning her head, Killa looked at Tyrael once more and locked gazes. "I know that you have the knowledge I seek. Just as I know you misted through what you did tell me because there were other ears keenly bent on our words. Just what is a nephalem and what does it mean beyond being an ancient race stronger and more powerful than humans?"
            "You already have the answers within you, this I know," Tyrael began as he studied Killa's eyes, searching for something. "What has caused this chaos that I see inside your eyes?"
            Snorting, she looked away for a moment. Changing her mind just as swiftly, she looked back. One question had finally risen from her frustration.
            "Just what does it mean to be nephalem, half demon and half angel?"
            Tyrael was quiet for a moment as he considered the question. His attention moved away for a moment before one arm rose so he could point to the horizon before them.
            "It means that within you resides the potential for great good and great evil. Where angels are pure good, demons are pure evil. But both sides have a balance within you. Nephalem were--are--a completely different being from what had been before." His arm lowered as he looked back to her. "Just as this world has a sunrise, so too does it have a sunset. While angels are the day and demons are the night...you, nephalem and humans, are the points between the two."
            Kills turned his words over slowly in her mind, ignoring all other chaotic thoughts to focus on the information. "No human is ever purely good or purely evil."
            "No. While the balance within their souls may be tilted more toward one than the other, they will never be anything other than human."
            Her teeth found the inside of her cheek to chew on thoughtfully. Arms moving and dispelling the grip of numbness that had set into her body, she shifted at last to renew circulation.
            "But that concerns humans. And from what I've understood, nephalem are...not human."
            Tyrael paused to consider his words. At last, he shook his head, "No, not in that sense. Nephalem only became mortal--their children becoming the humans of today--after many different manipulations and struggles. Have you heard of the Worldstone?"
            "I remember that part of Cain's records. Which brings me to another question: How can I be nephalem when I was born of humans?"
            "The same way that any creature can become something else. Even though humans are stripped of the powers of the nephalem, they are still creatures of both good and evil. They all possess the potential to be something more, the potential of power. That is why the demons are so interested in this world and those within it."
            Tyrael turned and moved around to face the seated hunter. It blocked the strengthening light from the horizon and made her look up once more. Once he was certain he had her full attention, he continued.
            "You are one of the strongest, most stubborn, most willful beings I have ever met. While I knew you before and often wound up watching you mold yourself into a weapon in pursuit of vengeance, you never quite managed to take the final step to follow the path of justice. At least, not for yourself. But you have always tread beside it. And even now, you stand just shy of something else as you look for your path in the chaos."
            Her eyes narrowed as she tried to follow his words, seeking to figure out just where he was trying to lead her. It made surprise flicker in her eyes when his large hand fell to rest on her shoulder and grip lightly.
            "Tell me what happened last night to place these shadows upon you, Shandra."
            When she remained silent, hesitant, he leaned forward.
            "I give you my oath that nothing you tell me shall ever pass beyond the two of us."
            Once he had spoken, her shoulders sagged as if the weight of his hand had removed the weight of her thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she released it in a rush.
            "If you were still an angel, and unable to lie, I would trust in such an oath more."
            "I may be mortal, Shandra, but I am still Tyrael. And my word is my bond...just as yours is."
            That made the faint hint of a smile touch her lips once more. It was apparently what he had aimed for.
            "If you were aware of me from time to time as I grew up, then I'm sure you're more than familiar with the Templars."
            Tyrael nodded, "Yes, there is hardly an angel that is unaware of them and their goals. In fact, they probably have more watchful eyes upon them than even the demons do."
            Her eyes and voice hardened. "Then you know better than I what their initiations involve."
            Whatever he might have been expecting, clearly it had not been that subject. Straightening, he withdrew a little but kept his hand on her shoulder. "Ah."
            Nodding, her lips twisted into a bitter line. "Kormac asked me...to purify him last night."
            "That is considered a very high honor amongst their order."
            "I'm aware," she growled.
            "Did it...did you help him?" the ex-angel asked.
            "Yes," she said and looked to the side.
            "Given what I have witnessed of your skills and abilities, and your outlook on your tasks, I'm afraid I am still missing something."
            Muscle leapt and twitched along the line of her jaw as she clenched it repeatedly. Chewing on her own thoughts, she squirmed a little. "It...did not...affect me the way it should have."
            Tyrael tilted his head, curious now. Especially when he saw the first darker signs of a rising flush. Puzzled by the color suffusing her skin, he withdrew his hand and just watched her shift again.
            "How did it affect you?"
            "...I...enjoyed it."
            Now it was his turn to be silent. Killa had a pretty good idea why it was so. Bringing one hand up, she growled and raked her fingers through her hair, combing out some tangles obtained the previous night. In a few more moments, the quiet was starting to eat at her. She nearly jumped when Tyrael spoke again.
            "If I am to understand this... You spent the night engaged in a templar purification ritual, and rather than be outraged or discomforted by it--"
            "It turned me on, all right?" she hissed, feeling her ears and neck burn hotly. "Torturing Kormac in the stead of one of those monsters made me horny instead of horrifying or pissing me off!"
            Tyrael found himself moved by the sudden ferocity in the hunter before him. Surprise warred with confusion as he stood there. Killa snorted and moved to slide off the rock, standing up. Turning, she was ready to walk away, suddenly in no mood to endure more talk or more of his presence. A hand on her arm halted her.
            "Shandra, are you worried that this...um, problem...might mean..." he trailed off, clearly not certain how to phrase the question.
            Justified that she was not the only one struggling with what she had experienced, she turned back to face him.
            "I remember what my first mentor taught me. I've been sitting here turning over every conversation I had with her. When I accepted the offer to kill demons, she was the one that made sure I understood how dangerous my path would be. To hunt demons using their own devices is to open ourselves to their influence. It is why strict discipline must be maintained at all times. It's why we must temper and focus our hatred to keep it under our own control. To use fear, to tap into the darkness, to twist our own fears and rage into power, is to risk being consumed by it."
            "And because you enjoyed causing Kormac pain, you are concerned that you're slipping into the darkness that is demonic?"
            "Yes."
            Again he was quiet. During those moments however, she was able to meet his eyes and keep her head upright. Shame, confusion, uncertainty, and disgust all warred and twisted inside her. Beneath them was the one thing she had been poking and jabbing at for the last two hours: desire. She wanted it again.
            "The road that you've chosen is hardly an easy one, regardless of what you've told others. You've harnessed the darkness and bent it to your will." Stepping closer, he gently gripped her chin only to have his wrist caught in an iron-strong grip felt through his armor. "Shandra, do you desire to cause pain and suffering to humans? To innocents?"
            The question made her pause and think. Images came to her all too swiftly. Her own family butchered--drawn and quartered like so much meat. The horrified visages of the dead and the undead she had encountered. The screams of men, women, and children as they were cut down. Tyrael, Leah, Cain, Lyndon, all screaming in pain by her hand. It was like being plunged from fire into icy water.
            "What? No!" she jerked away from his grasp.
            Smiling, Tyrael shook his head. "Then you are no demon. I've only been mortal a short while, but I have already seen much through both angelic and mortal eyes. And I know you've seen some of the same things. This desire I see in your eyes is not the first step to falling. You know this as well."
            "Do I?" she mumbled, completely embarrassed. "I...I want to hear him scream...for me. I want to hear it again, and know that he's screaming for me because I was the one to make him lose that control. How is that not evil?"
            "Is his pain all you wish from him, Shandra?" Tyrael asked softly.
            "No..." she murmured. Her traitorous mind was already supplying her with images and sensations of just what else she would like to do. The blush was back, burning across her jaw and up over her cheeks and forehead.
            "Then, it is not evil."
            Doubt was in her eyes when she could swallow her embarrassment and look back to his golden-crystal eyes. His smile was still so gentle and knowing, so old yet timeless. It did give her comfort as she found a calm beginning to creep around her so that the blush faded slowly.
            "The path of a demon hunter is a dark one, Shandra. You sacrifice your heart, your mind, and even your soul to take up the tools of evil and turn them into weapons of vengeance. You know in your heart that what you do is not evil. Just as you know what is right and what is wrong. Always remember the line you walk and never falter from it."
            Sorrow did brush across her heart as he said those words. A wavering smile touched her lips as she nodded once. "I remember. It was one of the last pieces of advice she gave before...her final hunt claimed her life."
            Tyrael stepped forward. Tensing, Killa caught a sharp breath as her eyes narrowed. With an ageless grace further slowed by heavy plate and multiple lifetimes of knowing one's own strength delivered, the ex-angel drew the hunter into a hug. The metal was unforgiving but warm. And until she touched it, she had been unaware that she was chilled through from the desert night.
            "My oath, Shandra. Just between us."
            His words were the key that unlocked the last gates to the flood. Breaking into tears that she had refused to shed for over ten years, Killa crumpled into Tyrael's embrace and let the deluge of denied doubts, uncertainties, and relief go. Over the plated shoulder, the sun broke above the horizon like the first brilliant ember of hope to light the world again. And for just a moment, light danced and rippled over Tyrael's armor like ethereal wings as his face was cast into a featureless shadow.

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Author's Note:
            Okay, I have absolutely NO clue where the hell this chapter came from. I'd sat down intending on writing another scene between Killa and Kormac--or a brief journal excerpt followed by a future scene...but this came instead. Hope that you like it--and that I didn't completely screw up Tyrael's character. I'm not a wise or philosophical person so I'm afraid I cant hope to touch upon the true character he possesses in the game. Sorry.
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The Hunter and the Templar