Lore Implications of the Council of Travincal in Infernal Hordes

“But one day, he awoke to an unusual resonance from the Arch echoing through the soaring spaces of the Silver City, and all that was put aside for the moment. He knew what the Lightsong meant: a new angel would be born.

Several angels had been born at the Arch since his choice to become mortal, but he could only watch and not take part in the birthing ceremonies, knowing that he was an outsider.”

“Outside, he joined the growing stream of angels moving toward the Silver Spire.”

“The angels resonated in harmony with the Lightsong, but the sound did not emerge from their immortal throats; instead, it came in a thrumming energy as they vibrated to a perfect pitch. In the courtyard, he could see a throng of angels gathering under the soaring structure. Although he had seen the spire countless times, it remained magnificent, and as with everything else, his newly mortal soul viewed it with fresh appreciation. Its height was nearly impossible to comprehend, rising like twin blades, crystalline facets glittering. Circular ringed platforms thickened the base, while other, smaller towers and spires rose up around it, and near the top was a structure like angels’ wings, where the Crystal Arch was housed. The spine of Anu.”

“Those in attendance at the summit of the Arch were Imperius’s angels; the new angel born today would be assigned to the Halls of Valor, and it was customary for that realm’s brothers and sisters to pay tribute.

The birth of a new angel could occur only when light and sound were in perfect harmony, resonating at a synchronized pitch that led to a tremendous surge of power. The spine of Anu birthed these angels as finite aspects of itself. It was said that only when an angel died could another be born.”

“He turned to go, but the throng pushed forward as the song grew. Feeling as if his ears might burst, he gritted his teeth and turned back. The light pulses were joining at one brilliant spot above him, where fine, threadlike filaments crackled and snapped across one another. The strands began to weave themselves together, forming an intricate mat that rolled into an orb, and within it, he could see a wriggling shape made of a light so bright he could not look directly at it.

But something was wrong. He began to notice a discordant tone in the air. One of the threads of light had turned gray, so thin it looked like a hairline crack across the surface of the birth orb. But it was there; he could not deny it.

Tendrils of light continued to snap upward from Anu’s spine and wrap around the shape within, adding to it, and the resonant song kept building. But that one note, so faint it was barely audible, was just slightly off pitch. It made Tyrael wince and look around at the quivering angels, their wings extended in ecstasy. Did no one else feel it?

Perhaps the tone was coming from him. Perhaps his presence here as a mortal was causing the change. But when he put a hand on his own chest, he felt no vibration, no resonance at all, and the core of him was empty and silent. The thing inside the orb was growing quickly. He could see the outline of furled wings, the radiance of the angel swelling moment by moment. At the height of the Lightsong, the orb suddenly burst apart, sending the strands of light crackling over the crowd, and the new angel unwrapped its wings as the light and sound reached a crescendo, hovering above the other angels in a magnificent display of power.

The other angels’ Lightsong pulsed gently, a sign of acceptance and welcome. It was a female. The moment should have been transcendent, joyful, breathtaking. But there was a subtle change that cast shadows where none should be, as if the gray filament wrapped like a snake around the birth orb had incorporated itself into her essence, and although the Lightsong should have matched the new angel in perfect harmony, her resonance was the slightly different pitch that grated at Tyrael’s ears and seemed at odds with the others.

The angels still did not seem to detect it. They were buzzing with excitement. He had hoped to be inspired by the birth, reconnected with the Heavens in some way, but he could not join in the song, his physical senses bruised, his mortal eyes and ears burning. Again, he felt like a stranger here among the immortal. The Lightsong filled him with dread.

It is the stone, Tyrael thought. Its foul tendrils have reached the Arch and corrupted the birth. The idea chilled him in a way nothing else could. The stone’s influence was spreading even faster than he had thought possible.

Tyrael turned again and stumbled away, his entire body aching, his mind reeling with terrible possibilities. He was alone in this, one against an army of angels. The entire fate of the Heavens fell on his broad shoulders. If he failed . . .

But he could not. There was no other option, not now. He must find the solution to the soulstone’s black sickness before it was too late.”