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Rathma once mentioned to me the importance of memory. I once thought that I would always remember my past as sharp and clear as I did the day I first descended to sanctuary, but over time the threads of my past loosened, and I found I could not remember as clearly the warmth of another angel's resonance, or the crystalline notes of the lightsong. When I brought my concerns to him, Rathma recommended keeping journals to record my memories, and the events of the present so that in the future, I had a record to look back on.

It took a long time to get used to holding a quill, to learn my letters, but once I was comfortable, I would spend days at a time trying to recount all I could. It’s become second nature now, to take a few days where I put down my sword and spells and instead commit text to page.

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The prime evils walk Sanctuary. It is an event so abhorrent as to rattle the very foundation of my being, yet I am once again swimming in memory. Tyrael’s constant presence has made me uneasy. It is hard to look at someone I once called brother, then abandoned. Though I suppose that isn’t quite accurate. I loved Tyrael, as I did all those of the angiris council, but I never called Tyael brother. The word didn’t quite fit right. Since his return, when we are together our words turn bitter, angry, even sad. He didn’t want me to join the Horadrim, but I refuse to cower while others fight against such primordial evils. Still, his resonance surrounds me even now, in the small cluster of rooms I claimed as my own in this vault, as far from him as I could manage, and I hate that it brings me comfort.

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I was raised by the members of the angiris council, and their closest followers. My earliest lessons were their teachings. Itherael and Auriel were the most nurturing. They taught me patience, and inner calm. I spent countless days with the two of them in Auriel's garden’s, learning to sing in harmony with the other angels. Learning to divine fate with Itherael, though I was never very good at it. They were always gentle with me. Their love was never in question and they always made me feel, for a few fleeting moments, that I belonged amongst my brothers and sisters in the heavens. I wish I’d had more time to make them understand why I had to leave, and hope my absence has not caused them too much pain.

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Imperius and I had a much more tumultuous relationship. With reflection, I’ve come to understand that Imperius did love me, in his own way. We fought often and with such vitriol, but I know that his harsh words were just a mask to hide his fear. He worried for me. Imperius taught me not only how to defend myself in battle, but how to rise above and beyond the limitations I imposed on myself. He taught me the best parts of valor and leadership and, despite our constant squabbles, he was a patient teacher. He never made me feel weak or frail, always encouraged me to push past any obstacle. When I confronted the council about my nature, it was Imperius who spoke loudest against my decision to descend to Sanctuary. I saw his valor turn to rage as he begged me to stay. That may be the closest an angel has come to shedding tears. I regret that we spent more time fighting than just cherishing our time, but I’ll always be grateful for his care.

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Even after years to soften the blow, I struggle to dwell on my memories of Malthael. Closer to a father than a brother. His quiet, unwavering acceptance was my anchor in heaven. I spent years at a time in the pools of wisdom with Malthael, each stretch endless and peaceful. I lived as his shadow, cloaked in his soft resonance. He never once raised his voice to the others, yet he still felt like the loudest advocate of my existence. He assuaged all my doubts and fears, affirmed that I belonged. That I was loved. Called me sister with quiet conviction.

When I confronted the council about my nature, I assumed Malthael would speak up in my defense as always, but he remained silent. His resonance no longer felt like comfort and when Imperius commanded me to stay, Malthael finally spoke up, only to call me tainted. Aberration. He abstained from judging the humans in sanctuary, yet whispered such painful words with the same conviction with which he once called me sister. I can’t help but miss the Malthael who raised me, and hate the Malthael who rejected me so wholly.

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Tyrael. How can I face him after all this time? After everything that’s happened since leaving the heavens. I spent so much of my life thinking that the embodiment of justice hated my very being. Like the others, I spent days, weeks at a time training with Tyrael. His methods were harsh, unforgiving, constant reminders that I didn’t quite fit in the heavens. He’d push me so far beyond my limits, yet there were no kind words of praise or affirmation after. No quiet moments of kindness or love between us. As if my very presence made Tyrael uncomfortable. I loved him still, admired him, strove to find the path that would finally bring us together. Common ground. Yet nothing I did was enough, until I chose to abandon the heavens for Sanctuary, and watched the strongest person I know break down and ask my forgiveness.

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I can look back now and see his lessons, his words, for their intended purpose. To keep me safe; to ensure I was ready. Ready to join heavens ranks. Ready to face an enemy that would do everything in its power to harm me. Destroy me. I suppose even now, he still wants to keep me safe. How do I show him that I can stand on my own? Show him that I am capable of protecting myself. I hope that this endeavor can do one good thing, and maybe bring us together again. Maybe this time, things will end differently between us.