You are an Archangel. One member of a council of your kind and most beloved of all.
You are taken.
Lay down your duty. Nothing here needs your light nor seeks harmony.
What guides your sacred duty? What guarantees hope itself is not extinguished?
You are depended upon. Not only by the mortals below but even your own brothers and sisters. But you are fading, slowly.
You need to be more.
There is a knife for you. It is shaped like [godliness].
Take up the knife. Ascend. Take your new shape.