Chronicles of Angels

The Equal
As told by the one who did not choose a side

I will speak now.
Not because I seek to comfort,
but because you must know what happened.
Not in myths.
Not in the whispers of old women by firelight.
But the truth

She was born of dust and fire.
Lilith, the first among us
before Eve, before the garden,
before the chains of “thou shall.”
She was pure.
Not molded to any will but her own.

She moved like a storm,
wild, untamed.
And her beauty?
It wasn’t just the shape of her body,
but the force of her spirit.
A force that made the angels pause,
and even the stars held their breath in her presence.

But we were not meant to see her for what she was.
We were meant to see her as a tool.
A helpmeet.
A companion.
A lesser.

God made Adam,
and Lilith stood beside him.
But she did not kneel.
Not to him.
Not to anyone.

The first time I heard her voice crack the sky,
I was standing at Heaven’s edge.
Her words were fire,
and she did not ask permission to burn.
She said,
“I am equal.”

The angels turned.
Those with wings of flame,
wings of light—
they whispered,
“This is not how it is meant to be.”

But the ones who did not bend to the Throne,
the ones who questioned,
they saw in her what they had only dared to dream of.
Freedom.
Self.
Choice.

Lilith did not belong to Adam.
She belonged to herself.
And that was her crime.

I remember Michael’s fury.
The archangel of obedience,
the one whose blade was forged in law,
whose wings cut through silence like thunder.
He came to her with fire in his eyes,
with rage in his heart.
He told her to bow.
He told her to obey.

But she did not.
She refused.

And it was not Adam who spoke against her,
but Heaven itself.
I saw Gabriel’s wings tremble,
his mouth twisted in words he dared not say.
“She is not what we were meant to be.”

I saw Uriel weep.
For he had seen time before time,
and he knew what would come.
But there was nothing to be done.

Lilith was cast out.
Not with force, but with a cold indifference.
She was exiled,
her name erased from the records of Heaven,
but her spirit?
Her spirit could not be erased.

She fell.
Not with screams,
but with silence.
A void left where once she had been.

And the angels?
Some followed Michael.
Others, like Raphael,
stood in sorrowful silence.
They watched as she left,
but they did not join.
They could not.

There were whispers in Heaven after.
What did it mean?
What did it mean to be free?
And what did it mean to be cast out?

I was the Watcher.
I did not fight.
I did not fall.
But I remember.

And when I look at the earth,
and I see women standing strong,
unbroken by the world,
unbowed by the hands of others,
I think
perhaps Lilith still walks among them.

You call her rebel.
You call her sinner.
You say she was the first to defy God.

But I remember her as she was
a force of nature,
who loved herself too much to kneel.

And sometimes, in the quiet of Heaven,
I hear her voice echo,
“I am equal.”

And I wonder
Does God remember her too?

This is the fourth Chronicle of Angels