Diablo Chronicles Episode 16: The Moment the Bastion's Light Fades

This is a newly written fan narrative based on the events of the original game. The characters' emotions, dialogues, and scene atmospheres have been reconstructed, and it includes major spoilers.

Azmodan's Army Besieges Bastion's Keep

Blood-red ash fell like snow over Bastion's Keep. It was the debris of hellfire launched by Azmodan's army. Under a crimson-stained sky, an endless legion of demons surged toward the walls like a colossal wave. Amidst the choking stench of sulfur and the metallic tang of blood, only the ragged breathing of soldiers gripping their weapons filled the heavy silence.

In the distance, the deafening roar of catapults launching boulders echoed as if to tear their eardrums. Azmodan, the Lord of Sin, projected a massive illusion into the air to mock the defenders. As his arrogant voice echoed along the stone walls of the keep, young soldiers trembled in fear and cowered behind their shields. Despair hovered over the battlements like a plague.

The Nephalem stood at the front line with a grim expression, looking down at the hosts of Hell. Even to the eyes of a hero who had weathered countless battles, the sheer scale of Azmodan's forces was overwhelming. Yet, there was nowhere to retreat. Knowing that if this keep fell, all of Sanctuary would inevitably be trampled, the hero adjusted their grip on their weapon and quietly prepared for the bloody struggle ahead.

Hideous beasts climbing up ropes and grappling hooks appeared at the edge of the walls. The sound of sharp claws scraping against the stone echoed from all directions. The commander bellowed at the top of his lungs to loose arrows, and a rain of arrowheads pierced the demons' hides, but it was far from enough to halt their frenzied advance. The first line of defense shook violently.

A winged, colossal demon swooped down, snatched a screaming soldier, and hurled him into the abyss. The horrific scream fading into the empty air was more than enough to shatter the morale of those who remained. Amidst the chaotic carnage of splattering blood and tearing flesh, the Nephalem leaped into the center of the battlefield without hesitation. A weapon flashed, severing a demon's neck.

The immense power unleashed by the hero swept through the ranks like lightning, temporarily slowing the demons' onslaught. Heartened by the Nephalem's presence, the soldiers behind raised their spears once more, shouting as they launched a counteroffensive. On the walls where blood and sweat froze, a desperate, chaotic melee between humans and demons unfolded. It was the beginning of a horrific war of attrition where no one could guarantee survival.

With every strike that cut down the endlessly surging enemies, a heavy fatigue accumulated in the Nephalem's arms. Yet, Azmodan's illusion still mocked their struggles from the sky. Swallowing the breath that rose to the back of their throat, the hero pulled a wounded soldier behind them. They knew all too well that if they fell, the defensive line would collapse in an instant.

On the walls where blood ran ankle-deep, the Nephalem swung their weapon wide once more to clear a path. Though the torn corpses of demons piled up like mountains, the dark army still surged from beyond the horizon. Bastion's Keep was slowly showing its limits, and the hero instinctively felt that a fundamental solution was needed to break this siege.

The Hero and Soldiers Hold Off Endless Onslaughts on the Walls and Underground

The battle did not stop at the high walls but spread deep into the underground chambers of the keep. Demons slipping through cracks in the defensive barriers were turning the larder and cellars into a wasteland. Leaving the defense of the walls to the soldiers, the Nephalem made their way down into the dark, damp underground. In the passages where even the torches had gone out, only a sickening stench hung thick in the air.

Deep within the food stores, noxious gas spewed by the minions of Ghom, the Lord of Gluttony, was rising. The yellowish toxic mist caused lung-tearing pain with just a single breath. Soldiers driven down there without protective gear coughed up blood and collapsed to the floor. The Nephalem had to push through the poison to secure an escape route.

Minimizing their breathing, the hero charged into the toxic mist and brought their weapon down upon the bloated demons. Flesh ruptured, releasing an even more foul stench, but the onslaught did not stop. In the sealed underground passages, the magical power radiating from the hero became the sole beacon of hope, guiding the survivors wandering in the darkness.

A young guard, clutching a broken spear and panting against the wall, watched with awe as the Nephalem slaughtered the demons before his eyes. Trembling with fear, he took the hero's outstretched hand and managed to stand. Encouraging the survivors, the Nephalem firmly ordered them to construct a defensive line using a shattered iron door as a barricade.

While the soldiers dragged heavy wooden barrels and piles of stones to block the passage, the Nephalem stood alone in the narrow corridor, holding back the surging wave of monsters. Dark red blood soaked the hero's armor and made the floor slick, but they did not retreat a single step. The resolute back of the hero rekindled the fighting spirit of the despairing soldiers.

In the pitch-black darkness where they had to rely solely on instinct and senses to swing their weapon, time felt as long as eternity. The Nephalem's breathing grew increasingly ragged, but the momentum of the demons trying to seize the underground finally began to wane. Countless monster corpses lay strewn across the floor, forming a gruesome tomb.

When the last remaining hulking demon fell with a dull thud, a heavy silence finally descended upon the underground passage. The toxic gas dispersed, and the faint light of torches illuminated the space once more. The surviving soldiers embraced one another, shedding tears of relief, but the Nephalem wiped the blood from their weapon and silently prepared for the next grueling battle.

As they fought endless defensive battles, moving between the surface and the underground, a strange anxiety began to bloom within the Nephalem. Azmodan's army was relentless, and the keep's defenses were reaching their limit. Thinking of the safety of Leah, who would be suppressing the Black Soulstone in the heart of the keep, the hero came to the conclusion that they must hasten to strike at the enemy's heart.

Leah Grows Exhausted Suppressing the Demons Within the Black Soulstone

In the deepest and safest chamber of Bastion's Keep, Leah sat slumped on the cold stone floor, gasping for breath. Floating and vibrating before her eyes was the Black Soulstone, radiating an ominous red glow. From within the soulstone, the spirits of the already sealed Great Evils, including Belial, whispered incessantly, gnawing away at her mind.

Cold sweat beaded on Leah's forehead, and her pale hands stretched into the air as if resisting a massive, invisible pressure. Her innate magical power was the only shackle preventing the demons from bursting into reality. However, the malevolent energy radiating from the souls of six of the seven Great Evils was far too immense for an ordinary girl to bear.

The curses of the demons ringing in her ears dug into Leah's deepest fears and doubts. She clutched her head and bit her lower lip hard to keep from screaming. Her lip split, spreading the metallic taste of blood, but she desperately chanted incantations to maintain her focus. Black energy writhing from the soulstone surged, trying to wrap around her arms.

Adria stood in a corner of the room, watching her agonizing daughter with cold eyes. Not a shred of maternal affection or worry could be found on her face; only the calculation of a ruthless observer lingered. Adria slowly approached and placed a hand on Leah's shoulder, offering comfort in a dry, inscrutable voice.

"Just hold on a little longer, my dear daughter. Your special power is the only key to saving this world." Strangely, Adria's whisper did not ease Leah's pain but instead brought a crushing weight that pressed down on her even more. Leah wanted to believe her mother's words, but as she connected deeper with the soulstone, she could not shake the sensation that her very soul was being dyed black.

Even as her vision blurred and the sensation in her fingertips went numb, Leah tightly wove the barrier of suppression magic once more. She was holding on solely through the teachings left by Deckard Cain and her sense of duty to save the world. Believing that if she collapsed, all of the Nephalem's efforts would be in vain, she squeezed out her remaining life force to suppress the soulstone.

The Nephalem briefly stopped by the chamber and witnessed Leah's agonizing exhaustion. The hero wanted to let her rest immediately, but outside, Azmodan's army was battering down the walls. Leah forced a faint smile, gesturing that she was fine and urging them to return to the battlefield. Weighed down by the gravity of her desperate sacrifice, the Nephalem had to turn away.

As the door closed and deep darkness filled the chamber once more, Leah let out a suppressed groan of pain and collapsed onto the floor. Seizing the opportunity of her weakness, the soulstone throbbed and flashed its red light even more violently. Instead of helping her fallen daughter, Adria stared at the soulstone with greedy eyes, quietly mapping out the final phase of her grand plan.

Tyrael Learns of War and Trust in a Mortal Body

In a corner of the armory, Tyrael stared blankly at his hands as he held an ordinary steel sword. Since casting aside his immortal archangel's body to become a mortal, even holding a sword was not the same as before. Red blood seeped from his palms, chafed by the rough hilt, and the stinging pain of the wounds reminded him that he was now a fragile human.

As a cold wind seeped through the cracks of the armory, Tyrael shivered involuntarily. It was a bone-chilling cold he had never known in the days when he was enveloped in the warmth of wings of light. He looked at the human soldiers, shivering from fear and cold, relying on thin cloth and leather armor. Such fragile beings were holding their ground even before an overwhelming demonic host.

An old guard captain limped over and slumped down beside Tyrael. Without a word, he pulled a piece of hard, stale bread and a still-warm canteen from his coat and offered them. It was the simplest and most genuine sign of solidarity that mortals could share in the midst of a battlefield facing death. Tyrael hesitated before accepting the food with both hands.

As the lukewarm water trickled down his dry throat, an indescribable warmth welled up deep within Tyrael's chest. It was a strength born of imperfect, wounded beings relying on one another—something he had never felt within the perfect order of the High Heavens. Chewing the bread, he realized that the true strength of humanity lay not in magic or physical might.

"We fight because we have no choice, but we will never die alone." The old captain muttered calmly, adjusting his blood-stained bandage. In his eyes lay a noble resolve that transcended fear. Tyrael nodded, feeling reassured in his choice to cast aside the glory of the Heavens to stand beside this fragile yet beautiful race.

Tyrael stood up and wiped the bloodstains from his sword with a cloth. Though he had judged countless demons as the Archangel of Justice, the weight of this ordinary steel sword felt heavier and more precious than ever before. He was no longer a bystander looking down upon the world from the heavens. He was a mortal warrior, bleeding, suffering, and struggling alongside them.

When news arrived that the Nephalem was ready to depart for the heart of the enemy, Tyrael rallied the soldiers to fill the gaps in the defensive line. In his voice, instead of angelic authority, there was a deep trust and urgency directed toward his comrades-in-arms. Though he had lost his wings, the soldiers raised their weapons, recognizing him as a true hero who still fought by their side.

As the gates of the keep opened once more and a new demonic onslaught began, Tyrael was the first to charge into the enemy ranks. Though the fatigue and pain of a human body weighed heavily upon him, the shouts of his comrades who trusted and followed him from behind infused him with new strength. Tyrael, the mortal, had fully made humanity's greatest weapons—trust and solidarity—his own.

The Hero Pierces Azmodan's Host and Defeats the Lord of Sin

The Nephalem descended relentlessly into the abyss of the Arreat Crater, the epicenter from which Azmodan's army poured. Though the boiling heat of lava and the stench of decay choked them from all sides, the hero's steps did not falter. For they knew that unless they destroyed the Heart of Sin and annihilated the enemy's main force, the only fate awaiting Bastion's Keep was a disastrous downfall.

Deep within the crater, Cydaea, the Maiden of Lust, blocked the hero's path with her hideous webs. She attempted to distract the Nephalem's mind with her sweet, venomous voice, but she could not break the hero's resolve, which burned with fury. After a fierce battle, Cydaea's grotesque body was shattered to pieces, and the countless venomous spiders she had spawned were reduced to ash.

Finally, the massive gate at the center of Arreat shattered, and Azmodan, the Lord of Sin, revealed himself in all his terrifying majesty. With the lower body of a beast and a grotesquely bloated upper torso, he burst into arrogant laughter, mocking the Nephalem's recklessness. In the circular arena where the fires of Hell boiled, the curtain rose on the final battle for the fate of Sanctuary.

Azmodan waved his massive hands, raining destructive hellfire meteors from the sky. The floor glowed red, and spheres of death swept in all directions within the cramped, inescapable space. Yet, with superhuman reflexes, the Nephalem narrowly dodged the flames and closed in on the enemy. The hero's weapon struck Azmodan's thick carapace, sending sparks flying.

Flustered, the Lord of Sin struggled to bind the hero's feet and drain their life force by summoning pools of darkness. The corrupt energy wrapped around the Nephalem's ankles, rotting their flesh, but the hero gritted through the pain and pushed their inner power to its absolute limit. A dazzling explosion of magical energy tore the pools apart, and the recoil sent Azmodan's massive frame reeling, losing his balance.

Seizing the upper hand, the Nephalem leaped with lightning speed and delivered a fatal blow straight into Azmodan's heart. The horrific sound of thick hide and bones shattering echoed through the arena. Azmodan stared down at his wound in disbelief, letting out a pain-filled death rattle. The dark energy flowing through his veins lost control and erupted outward.

With a deafening roar, Azmodan's physical form began to collapse. The Lord of Sin tried to hurl curses until the very end, but his shape was already losing its light and crumbling. As the exploding hellish energy swept in all directions, a black-and-red soul essence containing Azmodan's essence was ripped into the air. It flew toward the keep, as if drawn by an invisible force.

Once Azmodan fell, the demonic energy filling the Arreat Crater vanished as if it had all been a lie. The choking smell of sulfur cleared, and the heat of the lava subsided. Catching their ragged breath, the Nephalem finally realized they had defeated the massive army of evil that threatened Sanctuary. To deliver the news of victory and save the exhausted Leah, the hero quickly turned back and returned to Bastion's Keep.

Upon Returning to the Keep, Adria Betrays Them and Reveals Leah's Parentage

When the Nephalem, having defeated Azmodan, returned to Bastion's Keep, what welcomed the hero was not cheers of victory, but a chilling silence of death. In the corridor leading to the armory, the corpses of the soldiers who had held the defensive line lay horribly butchered. The blood pooling on the floor was still warm, showing clear signs of a one-sided massacre from within rather than an enemy raid.

Gripped by an ominous premonition, the Nephalem rushed into the central chamber where Leah had been staying. The scene inside froze the hero's blood cold. Tyrael was kneeling on the floor, bound by a blood-red magic circle, writhing in agony. And in the center of the room stood Adria, holding the Black Soulstone and looking down at the fallen Leah with a chilling smile.

"What have you done, Adria!" Tyrael bellowed in rage, struggling to break free from his magical bonds. His cry, constrained by mortal limitations, struck the walls of the chamber and scattered in vain. Adria looked down coldly at the bound archangel as if mocking him, pulling the Black Soulstone close to her chest. Within the soulstone, the energies of the seven Great Evils were now swirling.

"I have never once desired to save this fragile world." The voice slipping from Adria's lips was as cunning and chilling as a serpent. In her eyes flashed only the fanatical purpose she had harbored for so long. It became clear that she had not succumbed to evil through some maternal lapse. From the very beginning, she had thoroughly deceived everyone for the sake of her one true master.

The Nephalem drew their weapon and lunged to strike off Adria's head immediately, but a blood-red barrier surged up to block their path. Adria stroked the hair of the fallen Leah, uttering a cruel truth. "The Dark Wanderer of Tristram, Prince Aidan, is this child's father. From the moment of her birth, my daughter was the perfect vessel, inheriting the bloodline of Lord Diablo."

The moment this horrific secret of blood was exposed, the air in the chamber grew heavy. On the night Prince Aidan fell to corruption as Diablo's host, Adria had conceived the seed of the Prime Evil to plot for the future. It was revealed to the world that the source of the immense, uncontrollable power Leah possessed was not light, but the cursed legacy of the Prime Evil etched deep into her bones.

"You used us all from the very beginning just to make Leah a sacrifice!" Shaking with rage, the Nephalem struck at the barrier to shatter it, but the dark magic did not budge. Adria burst into a mad laugh and nodded. "That is exactly what I mean. Gathering the seven Great Evils into a single soulstone and preparing a vessel of the most perfect bloodline. That was my sole mission."

As the shock of betrayal and despair weighed heavily upon the room, the unconscious Leah let out a painful groan and slowly opened her eyes. Facing her mother's cold face looking down at her in her blurred vision, and the ominous soulstone held in her hand, uncontrollable terror began to spread in Leah's eyes. An inescapable, horrific fate was tightening its grip around the helpless girl's throat.

Leah, Daughter of Diablo Through Aidan, and the Seven Evils of the Black Soulstone

"Mother... why are you doing this?" Leah's trembling voice pierced the silence of the chamber. Her mind, which had suppressed the demons with the sole intent of saving the world, was shattering before the cruel betrayal of the only family she had trusted. The tears rolling down her cheeks held the desperate despair of realizing that all the hardships and sacrifices she had endured were an absolute lie.

Adria did not even blink at her daughter's pleas. Not a trace of maternal love remained on her face. "You are merely a tool born for this great moment, Leah. The pitch-black darkness will be completed through you." With this ruthless sentence, Adria raised the Black Soulstone high, boiling red with the power of the seven Great Evils. The ritual of doom began.

Without mercy, Adria chanted dark incantations, unleashing the magic of the Black Soulstone. The pitch-black, malevolent energy spewing from the soulstone stretched out like tentacles, wrapping around Leah's body and forcing its way deep into her heart. A horrific, grotesque scream, unbelievable for a human to make, erupted from Leah's mouth. Her body arched like a bow as she floated into the air, swept by blood-red lightning.

The malevolent essences of the seven Great Evils trapped in the soulstone flowed like a waterfall through Leah's veins. The legacy of Diablo, which had lain dormant in Prince Aidan's bloodline, absorbed that power and began to awaken explosively. Leah's human consciousness was torn apart, screaming within the massive vortex of evil, and her once-clear eyes burned with a terrifying red light harboring the fires of Hell.

"No! Leave Leah alone!" The Nephalem struck the magical barrier frantically with bloodied fists, but only the hero's bones and flesh shattered. They could do nothing but watch the horrific transformation unfolding beyond the barrier. Leah's fair skin rotted to ash and cracked, and her joints twisted grotesquely, reconstructing into a hideous demonic skeleton.

In the shadows of the chamber, the tragic illusion of Prince Aidan, who had once tried to save Tristram only to meet his own doom, seemed to flicker. It was a cruel sight of the cursed fate borne by the father being passed down entirely to the daughter across generations. Massive bony spikes erupted from Leah's back, and a bizarre cry, a mixture of multiple demonic voices, burst from her mouth.

Tyrael hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut. He resented his own incompetence to the bone, having failed to see through such a meticulous arrangement of evil even with the wisdom of the Heavens. Watching the girl who symbolized hope transform into the most horrific avatar of despair, a heavy guilt and sorrow—feelings he had never known as an angel—settled deep within the mortal Tyrael's chest.

Finally, Leah's screams subsided, and only the bone-shattering and flesh-tearing sounds chillingly filled the room. Adria stepped back, looking up at the horrific creation she had wrought with a gaze of wonder. The existence of the human girl Leah was now gone from the world. Only the Prime Evil, having devoured the power of all seven Great Evils, stood tall.

The Prime Evil Diablo, Having Taken Leah's Body, Departs for the Heavens

Over Leah's torn husk, a massive silhouette clad in the fires of Hell and deep darkness rose. The absolute being who had absorbed all the powers of the seven Great Evils into one, the Prime Evil Diablo, had finally descended upon Sanctuary. With a single breath from the beast, the stone walls of the chamber melted, and the overwhelming aura of terror radiating from him crushed the space, making even breathing impossible.

As Diablo opened his burning eyes, all light in the room vanished in an instant, leaving only blood-red flames flickering. Tyrael let out a suppressed groan and collapsed to the floor. Even he, possessing the soul of an archangel, could not help but feel an instinctive shudder before the aura of the Prime Evil descended before him. It was the crystallization of ruin, incomparable to any demon he had faced in the past.

"My great master. I have prepared your vessel." Adria prostrated herself on the blood-stained floor, pouring out praise in a mad voice. Yet, Diablo did not spare even a glance for his loyal servant. The Prime Evil's gaze was fixed beyond the ceiling of the keep, toward the High Heavens existing in the far distance. His goal was not something as simple as the destruction of Sanctuary.

As Diablo raised a massive claw and tore through the air, space warped with a deafening roar, opening a colossal portal. Beyond the portal, where blood-red lightning swirled, the brilliantly shining Diamond Gates of the Heavens revealed themselves. Having obtained the power of the seven Great Evils, Diablo was about to march directly into the Heavens to destroy his eternal rivals.

The Nephalem, filled with desperate rage, swung their weapon to shatter the barrier and charge, but Diablo casually waved his hand, slamming the hero against the wall. When the Nephalem barely raised their head amidst bone-shattering pain, the Prime Evil was already stepping toward the portal. Any chance of rescuing Leah, or any possibility of a miraculous resurrection, had been buried forever in the ashes.

Once Diablo's massive shadow completely vanished beyond the portal, the aura of terror that had filled the chamber dispersed as if it had never been. Only the acrid smoke left by the closing portal lingered in the empty room. On the floor, only the small locket Leah used to carry lay abandoned, having lost its owner. It was the sole remaining trace of the pure girl who had sought to save the world.

Adria, too, had long since vanished into the darkness to follow her master. The Nephalem stumbled to their feet and picked up Leah's locket. The cold touch of the metal pierced the hero's heart sharply. The sense of victory from defeating Azmodan and defending the keep vanished without a trace, replaced only by a miserable sense of defeat from being thoroughly toyed with, weighing heavily upon the hero's entire body.

Tyrael stumbled over and placed a hand on the Nephalem's shoulder. Deep sorrow and anger crossed in his eyes as well. "Our fight is not yet over. If we allow Diablo to corrupt the Heavens, Sanctuary will not be safe either." Though the light of hope that had burned in Bastion's Keep had faded, the two mortals gripped their weapons once more. In the darkest despair, the war was beginning.

References

Official Blizzard Chronicle: After the Destruction of the Worldstone

Official Blizzard Lore: Book of Tyrael and the Leoric Lineage

Official Blizzard Lore: Adria's Betrayal

Official Blizzard Lore: The Black Soulstone and the Reconstruction of the Horadrim

Official Blizzard Lore: Malthael and Westmarch

Official Diablo III Store: Battle.net