Lirael: One who carries divine resonance through shadow

Lirael didn’t fall from grace. She walked away from it—slowly, deliberately—when she realized grace was conditional.

She was made in the upper light, in the hush between divinity and will. But when she reached for answers, the seraphs wouldn’t give, they turned their faces from her. She didn’t beg. She understood.

To remain would be to betray her knowing.

So she stepped into the Rift. Into the ache of mortality. Into hunger, blood, betrayal, silence. Into us.

She endured what most don’t survive: Not war, but love that wounds. Not death, but being forgotten while still alive. Not hellfire, but the slow burn of abandonment, rage, and the unbearable intimacy of hope.

And through it all, her wings—once radiant and white—began to change.

Not from sin. From truth.