Heaven: The accusation

The gods were seated all together; not all of them had answered Valiel's call, but most of them had come, if only but curiosity. Tyrael presented himself in front of them, Raphael and Gabriel next to him.
"My lord," he began, slight bowing to Chyraz, god of creation and whom the Angels depended from, "I come here today to confess my sin in front of you and my kin."
A murmur of surprise welcomed those words; Raphael and Gabriel looked at each other in alarm: what was he saying?
"Yes, I do confess that I, an Archangel, sinned and what a sin! Others paid dearly for such a sin. I had been entrusted with an important task and I was to be the Angel of the Guardians, intermediaries between mortals and us. I was pleased and honoured by my lord Chyraz's trust and never would you have seen more dedicated Angel to his task than I was. But I failed my lord Chyraz, I failed him miserably! How so, would you wonder, since we Angels are perfect? This I will tell you, I will confess to you my shame and sin!"
In spite of his words there wasn't the slightest note of humility in Tyrael's voice. He was standing up straight, his blue gaze defying the gods and none of them dared not to give him full attention.
"Lately I received a call from the Guardian of Moen. Happily I answered it and found myself face to face with a young woman strong-willed and dedicated. Life was hard on her but she had never considered failure like an option; she didn't know the meaning of surrender, so she made her way fighting every moment of her breathing life. This is where I failed, my ladies and lords! For I was her travelling companion and yet I couldn't do anything when she died!"
Valiel entered, carrying Delilah in his arms. The gods started: a human, here? How could it be? Tyrael took Delilah from Valiel and lifted her up above his head.
"How did she die?" he thundered, her long hair caressing his cheek. "This is indeed the right question to ask and I can answer that question too. This girl is thus a Guardian and, as such, as her duty states it, she went to see the priests. These humans, chosen by you to bring you closer to the mortals, should be available for them, at any hour of the day or the night! They are not. They are not and how do they hide? They set up 'tests' that the supplicant has to pass before having the answer to his question... if he succeeds! What kind of practice is this?"
Some gods managed to look slightly uncomfortable.
"Naïve as I was, so trusting in you, I couldn't believe you knew about this infamous practice. But you do, oh, you do! Some of the tests, I understood too late, are meant to bring peace - slight bow toward Irlenuit, the ever-silent goddess of discretion and night - or to rebuild a confidence - bow toward Illustra - that has been destroyed by other tests! Don't you dare deny it! Don't you dare pretend you didn't know! How couldn't you have felt this horrible impression of dying, of having one's soul torn apart from one's body? I felt it and I do not have to fear for my soul, yet it disturbed me. What did she really feel? The priests, your priests, Furtifer, tortured her so much that she was begging me to kill her, so she would be relieved of her pain. Can you only imagine this? But you do not know the worse: she was tortured for something that she would maybe do later, but hadn't yet!"
Furtifer made a move as to defend himself, but Tyrael cut him short, now cradling Delilah against him.
"There is even worse... The priests create tests, force the supplicants to play with death and if death is encountered, oh, well, it's just a human life! Oh, my lord Chyraz, didn't you teach us that each life is important, that each life is like a jewel in itself? Then why do you allow the priests to dispose of human lives so easily?"
Tyrael's eyes were almost filled with tears and Chyraz felt sorry for his Archangel.
"Child..." he whispered with his ageless voice.
Chyraz was a wonder by himself, looking so young and so innocent. His bare feet gave him the look of a child and yet he was god of creation, husband of Illustra the mighty and was in charge of lots of things. The number of his temples was always increasing, he was in charge of the Angels and their armies, had his own white warriors, the elite of the paladins, and was the god of the Guardians. Tyrael loved his god, everything Chyraz did was good to the Archangel's eyes, but now, he didn't know anymore.
He shook the head angrily.
"I am not done yet! For we went to a fourth temple... She wouldn't have failed this test, she never had and she only walked away from it twice in ten years!" he continued, not knowing exactly how it was he knew such things. "So I know, I know she passed that test successfully and yet, here she is, motionless in my arms, or should I say lifeless? Why? Because the priests cheated her! They replaced the antidote with another poison and, oh, woe on them, they laughed as she was stumbling her way out! They actually laughed, Ordreth, your priests laughed, I heard them myself! And this girl, our Guardian, died almost in my arms and her last words were for begging me to help her. So here is my sin, my ladies and lords! Like so many other Angels before me, I cast my eyes on the daughter of Man and my heart was moved for her. For her, today I stand in front of you and, proud of my sin, far from imploring mercy or forgiveness, I ask you this question: what did you do? Today, my ladies and lords, though I am the sinner, I do accuse you and command you to answer for those deeds to me! Defendants, I hand over to you."
At first none of the gods dared to speak then Furtifer stood up. As usual he looked threatening, clothed in dark and with his stern look.
"Whatever my priests did, they did what they thought to be right. If the deed the Guardian will commit is terrible, then the punishment has to be terrible."
He sat down.
"I was waiting for you to say such things! The deed the Guardian will commit... maybe! Do you know she was so lost after this trial she was wondering if her death wouldn't prevent the fact? Don't you think she would have tried to avoid the situation if your priests had explained it to her, calmly, without torturing her? Is that test really useful?"
"My priests don't have the time..." began Furtifer.
"How is it Vitriana's priests do have that time?" interrupted Tyrael.
"She doesn't have anything else to do. I do and..."
"It seems to me that my brother is forgetting himself," said softly Vitriana, a slight smile on her lips.
"I'm sorry, Vitriana," apologised Furtifer. "I mean, we have rules, the humans have to follow them!"
"Here comes the saddest part. The Guardian didn't contest any of those rules. Beaten to death, there was only sadness in her eyes, because the priests 'seemed angry' with her! I wanted to protest, but she didn't want me to. So your priests were feeling right by torturing her and she felt she was doing right by going to see them so they could torture her... What rules are those? Tell me, are we those supporting those rules? If yes, allow me to stand against this iniquity. If we truly edited such cruel rules and support them, I sadly renounce to my Archangel status and ask for being allowed to live with those submitted to the rules; maybe they are suffering and dying, but I couldn't stand remaining with people encouraging iniquities. This is what feels right to me."
Silence welcomed his last words. Never before had an Archangel asked such a thing! It was unbelievable, absolutely unheard of! And yet, Tyrael stood in front of them, sad and serious, and the presence of Gabriel and Raphael, two mighty Archangels, by his side wasn't helping at all.
"Why were we Angels kept out of this? Did you fear a rebellion?" accused Tyrael.
Ordreth stood up.
"Before generalising too hastily, let's proceed with the case of the Guardian. The girl in question may be familiar to some of us: she is Delilah, daughter of Lilith, if I'm not mistaken. One of her most common nicknames is, I believe, 'Demon's child'. Will we accept to stand here in trial for the offspring of a Demon?"
Tyrael looked bewildered.
"Somebody tell me I'm becoming deaf... Did I hear what I think I heard? Because this girl had a bad reputation, does it make my accusations less valid? Are you going to tell me she deserved her fate? But look at her! She's just a child and yet she was ready to stand up for humankind in front of the demon armies! She's insulted by each and every one and yet she still tries to save them. We Angels trapped her mother and yet she's a Guardian! What kind of life do we have in store for her? Or, rather, did we have? She was willing to give her life to save humankind but no! Not this honour for the Demon's child! She can only die miserably, during a test she had never failed before! What kind of monsters are you? Today, I understand my fallen brothers! At least, among the Demons, there isn't that much hypocrisy, is there, Vortigern?"
The god of Demons - among others - started; he was daydreaming as usual and it was obvious he was here only because Syrils, his wife, had been interested in knowing what was going on.
"Oh no, everything's clear with Demons," he replied absently.
"So were my fallen brothers right? Were the Grigori the first ones to understand the hypocrisy of Heaven?"
The Grigori, more commonly known as the Watchers, were Angels now fallen for having had too much interest in the daughters of Man. Nobody liked to pronounce their name, which was almost as feared as the demon prince's, and more than one god cringed at the name.
"This is blasphemy!" exclaimed Ordreth.
Illustra raised a calming hand.
"Tyrael, you go too far in your accusation."
"O my lady Illustra, your high priestess herself was this child's second mother. Will you condemn your own child?" implored Tyrael. "I call for justice because she can no more; will I be denied?"
"Your accusations did raise a point: Ordreth, your priests' actions deprived humankind of its sole protection against Demons."
"May I remind you that nothing could please me more than chaos on earth? Everything is so quiet lately," he half-complained.
"Ordreth, be serious. My husband is the god of this Guardian."
"No, Illustra, there is no husband right now. You are not Chyraz's loving wife, you are Illustra the mighty, leader of the alliance of Good, opponent to my lady Erza and protector of the weak, the widow, the orphan, the poor, the unhappy, etc., etc.," he concluded sarcastically.
"Allow me, Ordreth, to remind you that I do belong to this pantheon also," intervened Chyraz, "and that we gods decided all together the role of the Guardians."
Erza, busy with Evil somewhere else, wasn't here to confirm or infirm Chyraz's words and Ordreth couldn't protest.
"This is enough," said Nyras. "This is now a question of justice and justice will be done. Let us deliberate in private."
The hint was very clear. Tyrael muttered:
"Humans keep things from us, gods keep things from us, we keep things from humans... How long before we keep things from gods?"
As the gods were leaving, Chyraz made a slight sign to Raphael who nodded discreetly.

Raphael and Gabriel found Tyrael sitting next to Delilah who was covered with a white cloth, except her face, surrounded by her hair like a halo. He had closed her eyes and had tried to erase the pain from her features, but the twist of the lips remained.
"You chose the wrong person for such an accusation, Tyrael," said gently Gabriel.
"Why? Because she has... had a bad reputation? Is it her fault if she is called Demon's child? And even if it was true, even if a Demon is really her parent, why should we blame her? Did she ask for it? Are thus mercy, compassion, forgiveness and justice meaningless words? Answer me, Gabriel, Angel of Mercy!"
The Archangel smiled.
"I'm not speaking about this, Tyrael. They think you are biased because the Guardian is a girl and... rather pretty."
"The Grigori?"
Gabriel winced.
"Say the Watchers, please, Tyrael."
"If you want. Do they fear that I'll join their ranks?"
"Maybe. Delilah is very beautiful, Tyrael, you may be tempted by her."
"Demons and Angels' greatest danger: to be tempted by the daughters of Man!" exclaimed Tyrael bitterly. "Tell me, Gabriel, do you believe justice will be done?"
"Meaning that they will stop testing humans and give back her life to Delilah? Very unlikely."
"Have I been blind all my life? Have I been fed lies all along? Tell me, Gabriel, and you, Raphael! Is the blindness of Nyras just a joke? If so, let me share humans' fate, since I cannot do anything for them!! What is the use of being an Angel if it's for seeing pain and lies for eternity?"
"Because sometimes, though very rarely, we have the chance to relieve the pain and dissipate the lies," said Raphael softly. "Tyrael, we can do no more for her now and you renouncing at your Archangel status won't help her."
But Tyrael shook the head.
"You don't understand. After Furtifer's trial, she was so delirious that when she looked at me, she thought she was in Heaven. And what was her reaction? She said she thought she would be forbidden to go there. Can you imagine? And she is a Guardian..."
Gabriel and Raphael looked startled. Delilah's resignation to her fate was quite terrifying.
"You don't know all there is to know about her," said Raphael tentatively.
"And then what? Maybe I don't know her, but I don't care. Her last words were 'Tyrael, help me...'. She is a Guardian and she has to help people asking her for help; I am the Angel of Guardians, I have been given this task by the god of Guardians, can I do less than them? Can I remain deaf to her last plea? Can I deny her help when she begged me for?"
Everybody knew Tyrael was compassionate; that was the reason why Chyraz had chosen him, but really he hadn't lied when claiming to have been dedicated to his work. Gabriel and Raphael looked at each other; it was true that Tyrael had rarely been home since Chyraz had chosen him to be the Angel of Guardians. But none of them thought of telling him she was just one Guardian among others.
Valiel landed quite brutally at the threshold. He was obviously exhausted.
"The gods are still deliberating," he announced.
"Take some rest, Valiel," said Tyrael mechanically. "What's the use anyway? It's a lost cause."
"Do no lose faith, Tyrael. It is dangerous in such a place!" Gabriel warned him friendly.
"Tyrael!" called joyfully a new voice. "I saw Valiel and..."
Shela stopped dead when seeing Raphael and Gabriel; she was always very intimidated when in their presence.
"What is it?" she wondered aloud. "Why are you so serious?"
Tyrael grunted and Raphael took this as a bad omen. He came toward Shela.
"Child, can you come back later, we..."
But by coming toward her, Raphael had stopped concealing Delilah's body and Shela cried:
"Who is dead? Which Angel?"
Passing Raphael she came to the couch and her face hardened when recognising Delilah.
"There! She met her fate before betraying us!" she said with satisfaction.
Tyrael's face would have frightened more than one and Gabriel feared for Shela.
"The gods help me," he grunted hoarsely, rising slowly.
"Control!" snapped Valiel and, to his relief, Tyrael sat again.
"Shela, go away," he said with a restrained voice. "I'm not in the mood of talking with you today."
"No, this time, you listen to me! I warned you about her, didn't I? If you had listened to me you wouldn't be mourning over her now!"
"Shela, you speak without knowing, so for the last time, go away! You are really beginning to annoy me."
"Everybody can see I'm right!" persisted Shela. "She is dead and yet you are still under her influence!"
"There is no influence! There is just a girl who died for nothing, just because of some stupid games from stupid priests! She died under my eyes and I failed! I failed her, I failed Chyraz and I failed myself!"
"Failures are always relative," intervened a masculine voice quite ironically.
"Oh great, one can just slip in my house," muttered Tyrael.
The newcomer, with jet-black hair a bit too long, along with a white lock, casually entered. His smiling face was belied by the seriousness of his dark eyes.
"The gods are done deliberating," he said.
"Thank you, Azrael," replied Tyrael. "I needed an intervention, if I didn't want to become a murderer."
"Anytime," retorted the Archangel easily.
He had an indifferent look at the couch and immediately paled.
"Delilah!" he exclaimed softly, losing his smile.
"You know her?" wondered Tyrael, lifting her in his arms.
"Of course!" replied Azrael, quickly pulling himself together. "I am an Archangel and she's a Guardian, after all."
Tyrael knew Azrael was hiding something from him, but he didn't get the time to ask questions.
"Hurry! The gods are waiting for you and if you keep them waiting too long while they were having good dispositions, they'll probably change their mind."
"Do you think they have good dispositions?" asked Tyrael, excited, leaving without waiting for the answer.
"Honestly, it would be very unlikely," murmured Azrael, left alone.
Sighing he followed the others.

Some gods were slightly uncomfortable when seeing the Angels in front of them, for there were three of them who were not the least: Raphael, Gabriel and Azrael, especially that for once, Azrael didn't look kind and open as usually. Illustra spoke for the gods:
"Justice was dispensed and now, hear the results: Ordreth's priests were found guilty to have exceeded their rights. Therefore they have been sentenced to: one, never replace the antidote by a poison or anything else; two, help those who would absorb the poison and not find the antidote; three, remain neutral in the chaos that Demons would create if they succeed this time. This last restriction applies equally to the priests of chaos, the knights of chaos and the god of chaos himself. Is it clear, Ordreth?"
"Yes, my queen," replied Ordreth with only one hint of bitterness.
He wasn't looking very happy with the decision: if the Demons were to succeed, the chaos would be indescribable and Ordreth was well-known to take advantage of such cases.
"Furtifer's priests were not spared either," continued Illustra unperturbed. "Though thinking to be carrying on their duties they weakened the Guardian, made her doubt her sacred errand and left her defenceless at anybody's mercy. For punishment it is requested that each of them in turn passes the test and they will have to see that the supplicant is safe till he or she recovers - if any wound has been inflicted, physically or mentally. This last task has to be performed without them actually doing so, for the supplicant would naturally resent it. Last, Furtifer himself has to present apologies."
Furtifer rose from his seat and turned to Tyrael.
"I apologise to you, Angel of Guardians, hoping you will carry my voice to her," he said sincerely. "My priests took steps they shouldn't have and I am really sorry, for they judged you without being entitled to. I shall see from now on that nobody is ever punished for something he or she didn't do... yet."
Tyrael slightly nodded, to show the apologies were accepted, then turned to Chyraz, putting Delilah in evidence.
"And for her, father? Is there nothing to be done but saying words?" he asked like a child to his father.
"She is dead and ought to remain so!" exclaimed Shela, stepping forward. "A girl like her has only her place among the cursed and damned, or the dead!"
"Are you the Angel of Justice?" intervened a new voice, as Shela suddenly realised with confusion that she had dared to speak to the gods with a commanding tone. "Or maybe..." he continued, standing up, his voice still calm, "are you goddess of justice?"
Shela didn't know where to hide as Nyras, god of justice, was looking at her with his blindfolded eyes.
"N-no, my lord, I am not..." she stammered. "Lunedor, your wife, is."
"Good child," said appreciatively Nyras whom nobody had ever heard being so ironical. "So let the justice to us."
Tamed Shela, head bent down, went to hide behind the four Archangels.
"Her fate is between your hands, Archangels," said Nyras. "Do as you wish with her, as long as you do not seek a god's help. So I said."
And again Chyraz made his slight sign to Raphael.
"But do not forget," added Nyras a bit more darkly, "that no human is allowed to see Heaven while alive and that dedication to one's work may look like a forbidden feeling..."
Tyrael took the hint and straightened up.
"When I look at Delilah, my lord, I do not see a daughter of Man, I see a child who trusted me and asked me for help. I failed to honour her trust while, as the Angel of Guardians, I was due to help her."
Nyras smiled faintly.
"Keep those feelings in mind, my son, and Heaven is safe in your hands."
Tyrael blushed at the praise.
They brought back Delilah to Tyrael's house, followed by a pouting Shela.
"A human and four Archangels caring for her..." she muttered. "Heaven is in danger."
Tyrael glared at her.
"I'll end up believing you are jealous, Shela," he said sharply.
"Ridiculous," she sneered.
Next to them, Azrael smiled, enjoying the conversation, and he winked to Tyrael. Without knowing why, Tyrael felt better; he had always been in awe in front of his elder and though Azrael was rarely serious - thus considered more open than Gabriel or Raphael - there was something in him that had kept Tyrael of becoming close to him like he was to the other ones.
"What are you going to do?" asked Shela.
"What we can do," replied Azrael merrily.
Gabriel grinned at him.
Tyrael laid down again Delilah on the couch and Raphael came by her side.
"Let me help," Tyrael offered.
"No," the Archangel said before adding slyly: "The gods try to trick us, we will show them we can trick them. The rule is that one can only intervene once in a human life, meaning preventing death. I'll be this one today; but Azrael, Gabriel and you will still be able to help her if anything happens. Especially that the poison is now everywhere in her body, so it won't be that easy. But, well, I am the Angel of Healing, am I not?"
"Thank you, Raphael," said Tyrael gratefully as Azrael's smile was widening.
"Are you telling me you are falling for her too?" asked Shela incredulous.
"Of course I am," replied Raphael imperturbable. "Or, actually, I did fall for her a long time ago. Her eyes are like a moonless night and her smile brings Heaven on Earth. Indeed it was a great joy to me to see her blossom into this fine young woman."
"But this is forbidden!" ventured Shela, shocked.
Azrael and Gabriel were laughing openly as Raphael shrugged.
"Then Azrael, Gabriel, Tyrael and myself will fall. Now, be silent!"
A soft blue light suddenly surrounded his hands as he bent down over Delilah's lifeless body. He proceeded slowly, taking away the poison in her blood and stimulating her system to shake away the deadly torpor it was in. It took time for the poison had had the time to contaminate the whole blood system. Slowly her pallor disappeared and she looked as if she had been sleeping, like a trusting yet vulnerable child. Suddenly she took a deep breath, though her eyes remained closed.
"I put her to sleep," said Raphael, the voice strained. "Bring her back where she belongs before she awakes, for she doesn't have the right to see Heaven."
"I know; thank you, Raphael," replied Tyrael, lifting Delilah in his arms.
He looked at Gabriel who nodded: he would take care of Raphael who had exhausted himself beyond his limits.
"I shall see you around shortly," half-yawned Azrael.
Tyrael looked surprised but didn't reply. Instead he took his leave, holding Delilah close against him. Shela grinded her teeth, Valiel sighed and the three Archangels had a light smile.
Tyrael reappeared in the temple of Ordreth, almost at the same place he had disappeared. Yggard's eyes widened when he saw him coming out of the temple.
"What on earth..." he began.
"Nothing earthly, young man," said Tyrael. "Now please let me pass."
He walked in the Whispering Forest and, under a big oak, he laid down gently Delilah on a bed of moss and tender leaves. He was still bending down over her as she opened her eyes and smiled at him.
"I was in Heaven," she whispered with wonder. "Enfolded in safe and soft wings, I heard the angelic choir and the gentle breeze singing of everlasting love. The voices of the gods were carried to me... You were there, and Raphael, Gabriel and Azrael. Shela was there too, but the music of her voice wasn't approaching yours," she added with a grin.
"You are delirious," murmured Tyrael, worried.
"Yes... No, I remember... You were angry, very angry. I still can hear the tones of your voice. You are thundering and accusing... Am I guilty, am I the one you are angry with?"
"Delilah..."
"Tell me, Tyrael! Did I anger you?"
"No, child, no..."
"Ah... It is good, I can die in peace now... No, I died already. I remember the cold running through my veins, paralysing me, the bitter cold weakening me, the threatening darkness closing on me, forbidding me to breathe... I can't see, I can't hear, I can't move, I want to shout but my voice is gone and my lips call silently for help... I can't breathe and the darkness and the cold... Angel, Angel, are you still here?"
"I am, Delilah," replied softly Tyrael, broken to see her tortured again.
"Protect me from the cold and the darkness, please..." she begged.
She was shivering and had somehow found the strength to brace herself in pitiful protection. Carefully Tyrael cradled her in his arms, closing his white downy wings on her.
"Tyrael... I don't want to die now..." she whispered, huddling up against him as if his embrace could protect her even against death.
"I will not let you die, Delilah, I'll watch over you, I promise."
Desperate Tyrael wanted to shout: what was wrong with angelic healing? Why each time they cared for her she was tortured mentally so cruelly?
"I passed the test," she breathed. "I did but they cheated... They cheated, I swear it!"
"I know," he said soothingly, feeling her becoming agitated.
She calmed down.
"I went to Heaven," she sighed dreamily. "I saw the gates, they were opening for me... I was so afraid to cross the threshold, so afraid it would only be a cruel trick..."
"Hush, Heaven will welcome you in time. Now you have to live your earthly life..."
"Is it true?"
"Yes, Delilah, and you'll have wings, soft, white wings carrying you wherever you want to go and you'll be the sweetest.... the loveliest Angel of the realm..."
His voice broke as she was still delirious. A neighing sounded near him. Yggard was here, led rather than leading, by Cinnabar.
"He... he refused to move the whole time you were gone..." he stammered. "I tried to lead him to the stables, but he bit me and kicked me, and acted the same when I approached the gelding. So I let him where he was, but now he's here..."
"Yes, I know," sighed Tyrael wearily. "Cinnabar is Delilah's most faithful companion."
He looked down at the girl in his arms.
"Delilah," he called softly, "Cinnabar is here for you."
She hesitantly held out a hand and felt Cinnabar's soft nostrils under her fingers. Both Tyrael and Yggard knew they would have been bitten had they tried to reach for him blindly. Exactly like the last time, touching her warhorse seemed to clear her thoughts and she disentangled herself hastily from Tyrael's embrace, a slight blush covering her cheeks.
"Pray pardon me, gentle Angel," she said with ceremony, "for I did abuse of your kindness and your healing, soothing touch."
Tyrael was about to protest but, remembering Yggard's presence, thought better of it and closed his mouth without saying a word. She was standing next to Cinnabar, cuddling the great head pressed against her chest as the stallion was uttering soft sounds of contentment. For one brief moment Tyrael wished he could be at the place of the warhorse; he banished the thought almost immediately, genuinely surprised of having had it.
"Thank you for having taken care of Cinnabar, Yggard," she said gratefully, her face half-buried in the soft fur behind the horse's ears. "He means a great deal to me."
"It was my pleasure, Delilah. Are you sure you are feeling alright?"
"I'm perfectly fine, thank you for your concern," she replied affirmatively.
She looked at the forest and sighed.
"And my journey is waiting for me... I have to go, Yggard, duty calls."
"Take care of yourself. By the way, I have news for you: whatever happens, you won't have Ordreth's followers in the game. It has not yet begun but we are already out," he said crestfallen.
"How is it?"
He shrugged.
"Don't ask me. The orders come from Ordreth himself. Nobody can be involved, priests, knights and god himself. He wasn't happy about it apparently. I don't know what happened up there but sure enough it wasn't good for us."
"What are you going to do?"
Yggard grinned evilly.
"The priests are trying to find a way to go around the new rule and I bet Ordreth is helping them. With a bit of luck they may just find something."
"It would be good for you, but not for me, so I'm not going to wish you good luck."
"I understand. I do wish you good luck though. Try to come back alive from all this, Delilah. Please."
"I'll try my best, Yggard, I promise you. There are still some hills whose other side I haven't seen yet, huh, Cin? I hope to see them."
Yggard nodded, laughing, and left with a smile. Delilah's faded as soon as the trees closed on Yggard's path. She looked at Tyrael.
"It's because of you, isn't it?"
"What?" Tyrael asked, feigning ignorance.
"What's happening to the chaos followers. You went to see the gods, doing exactly what I forbade you!"
"I just brought you back from death's gates, I thought I would receive thanks rather than a sermon," replied Tyrael indifferently. "I know I didn't exactly save you myself, but well..."
Delilah looked at him quite lengthily, as he was carefully turning his back to her, and she ended up laughing.
"Anyway, it doesn't matter now. I would have thought your plea would have been rejected though, since it was about me."
"You would be surprised of the arguments one can find to convince stubborn gods," murmured Tyrael.
"Too bad it doesn't work on stubborn Angels," grinned Delilah.
Tyrael knew whom she was referring to and smiled.