Diablo III: Storm of Light by Nate Kenyon Read Free Book Online

barbarian was older than he’d guessed at first glance, Zayl thought, but well preserved. The blond man was a bit ragged around the edges, but the wizard, the youngest of the three, was slender and remarkably beautiful.
    They had also been called here for some purpose that was unclear. “The High Heavens’ Crystal Arch has a resonance—a song,” Shanar said after the introductions were made. “I’m able to tap into it, and the resonance . . . it speaks to me. I can’t make it plainer than that.”
    “I’ve studied texts that describe the Arch,” Cullen said, eyes brightening. “The resonance gives birth to angels, the legends say. Deckard wrote about it in a seminal volume of our order. And you found a way to sense this, here on Sanctuary?”
    Shanar nodded. “The song flows through all of us, shapes the destiny of mortals in mysterious ways—a vibration like a struck fork, felt only in the ether that surrounds us. Most people can’tsense it. The song led me here, to Tristram.” She gestured toward Jacob and the barbarian. “Their presence was . . . required. The resonance made that pretty clear.”
    Gynvir in particular seemed wary of the necromancer, her hands tightening on her battle axe. “What is he doing here?” she said, glaring at Zayl before glancing back at Shanar. “You told me we were needed to save Sanctuary from evil, and you know I’ll fight to the death for that. But I didn’t sign up to be in the presence of one of his kind.”
    Barbarians were a superstitious, spiritual people, fiercely loyal to their duty to protect the Worldstone. After Mount Arreat had been destroyed and the stone was thought lost forever, many had taken to searching for conflict to assuage the emptiness in their hearts. Denied a proper warrior’s burial on the slopes of their beloved mountain, they were wanderers from then on, and death was no longer something they cared to understand in such an intimate way.
    “Please, I mean you no harm,” Zayl said. “I’m here for the same reasons you are, to battle against the darkness and restore the Balance.”
    “Pah.” The barbarian spit in the dust. “If you try any of your dark spells around me, you’ll taste the edge of my axe. I’ll ask you again, necromancer, what are you doing in Tristram?”
    “Hunting barbarians,” Humbart said from Zayl’s pouch. “What else?”
    The barbarian swung her weapon into place before her sizable chest, holding it in a double-handed grip. “Who spoke?” she said, looking around wildly. “Reveal yourself!”
    Zayl sighed. He attempted a small smile, more to put the barbarian at ease than through any sense of friendliness. But smiling didn’t come naturally to him, and from her reaction, he supposed the effect was more like a baring of teeth. He regretted Humbart’s attempt at humor and didn’t particularly enjoymaking others uncomfortable, but he wasn’t ready to volunteer more information just yet. This chance meeting was entirely too convenient. More would be revealed soon, Zayl was sure, but until then, he would remain silent.
    As if in answer, a bright light flared briefly in the dark, outlining the remains of the cathedral from the other side. Along with it came a ripple in the Balance; Zayl felt it wash over him, and a muttered curse came from Humbart, who was far more attuned to these changes than any living mortal. It meant the presence of something not of this world, something powerful that was in league with either the Heavens or the Hells and threatened the natural equilibrium between light and darkness.
    Who or what this was, he could not say, but he had the sense they would all soon find out.
    The monk led the charge back up the hill. They reached the top as the light began to fade, skirting the edge of the fallen cathedral to the graveyard on the other side. Stones leaned crookedly in every direction, their markings worn to faint lines and shadows. But all eyes were on what would have been the