A Crypt-ic Talk

While Eylylyn used her magic to try and figure out what her new toys could do, Rahsaan doubled back to the room where the statue of Voriel’s likeness stood. He looked up as the stony face of his angelic guide peered back at him, the expression particularly ghoulish and harsh in the dim light.
“How is this here? Why is this here?” He asked. The monk could almost picture the angel’s thoughtful expression as Voriel replied, “Your assumption is as good as mine. I'm not sure how to feel about it being here. But I don’t think it would be any better if it was the centerpiece of the grand hall.”
“But how would the sculptor even know what you really look like? That is a very lucky guess to have the right amount of wings, eyes, arms . . ..” Rahsaan leaned in closer and squinted, “Though I suppose your head is a little smaller in reality.”  
“I had been trapped in the mist for ages, Rahsaan.” Voriel replied, “Someone who delved\ into the secrets of the mist- if they were adequately proficient- could very well see an angel among the gloom.” Seeing his words did little to reassure the Aasimar, he added, “This could just be a coincidence or just another way Strahd is messing with us. Having myself as the angel standing watch of Sergi’s body is far better than the other angel in Barovia.”
“Just as it is a coincidence I do not have a tomb here?” Rahsaan asked in a flat tone.
“That is still troubling you? Not the off-model recreation of my spiritual form?” Voriel replied. Rahsaan turned away from the statue with a sigh, “I cannot help but think it means something. I assumed our coffins were a way to scare us. Is Strahd just assuming I would try to flee the castle in terror and not even put forth the effort to finish me off?”
Voriel raised an eyebrow, “You could see that- but that isn’t what I think after I take all into consideration.”
“So you do think the pauper’s grave is elsewhere.”
“I think that Strahd needs you for something else.” Voriel said, his tone losing it’s conversational accent. In the empty space floating before him, a spectral misted version of the glass heart appeared. “I told you earlier I saw something similar in the abyss. I am almost positive it had something to do with the reason myself and other angels were lured into a trap. Using mortal souls and body parts can power profane rituals- but the blood of the immortal . . . that can supercharge them.”
Rahsaan gave a disbelieving expression, “All this because one thing looked like another thing.”
“I give it attention because my time in the mist has been an eerie rhyme of what came before.” The angel said.
“Voriel, what do you mean?”
Instead of a verbal response, a dizzying array of images played before him, unfurling from a shroud of mist.
He saw Voriel in his old mortal form torn and beaten, arms held by a pair of horned shriveled creatures while several red-scaled devils ran him though with rusted spears, the angel’s cries of pain drowned out only by the fiendish peals of delight. Another vision appeared alongside this one, where he saw his friends and his Voriel empowered self staring down the witch Mama Lasagna though as the hideous woman spoke death itself poured from her mouth, engulfing the angel, wizard, and cleric who fell lifelessly to the ground. The voice of his guide sounded in his ears,
“I got myself in over my head, thinking my power was enough which endangered those who relied on me.”  
The mist parted, only to reform once again. He saw a man who he recognized as the Abbot. He knelt weeping in a barren gray wasteland, surrounded by broken weapons and bodies from a terrible battle. He cried out in anguish, lifting his gaze skyward as he cursed the name Uriel. Rahsaan saw Voriel approach, putting a hand on the grieving angel’s shoulder as he said, “Alerion . . .” Before he could continue the Abbot threw Voriel’s hand away, standing up and giving the other angel a shove before directing his rant at Voriel. He then stormed away, Voriel following for a few footsteps calling out after, only to be left standing alone amongst the dead. As before, a second image appeared alongside, revealing several meetings between Voriel and Malajai. Their topics covered Voriel’s doubts with guiding Rahsaan, how to deal with the threats facing the mortals . . . and a variety of information that would have been helpful if it was discussed with Rahsaan and not the Djinni.
“I longed for a relationship that I could not have, which distracted me from my purpose.” Voriel said.
He saw a gathered crowd, a large multitude that looked made up from people of not just one, but many nations. They all looked upon a radiant figure in the sky, who held up a sword of flame wearing a wide grin, but not one of communal celebration. It was a smile of self gratification. The gathered people chanted his name, in many different tongues, yet he heard and relished each cry.
He then saw his friends battling with a flaming skull, who despite several solid blows refused to go down. He saw his luminous form finally blast the monster out of the sky, then turn expectantly to the others. When he only received a sarcastic remark from Eylylyn, the anger rising up in the angel was palpable, and Rahsaan was reminded how he had to wrestle control back from Voriel to avoid further conflict.  
“Even then, I only sought to aid mortals so that they would look at me in awe, not to ease their suffering.”
Rahsaan was back to standing in the crypt’s passageway. “And now, I find myself in the enemy's stronghold with my powers diminished, attempting to strike down an evil ruler with the intention of enacting a wicked ritual that will lead to ruin.”
Still reeling, the young man felt his forehead as he said, “But you died last time! If you could not succeed then . . .”  He let out a gasp of realization- figuring out the reason Voriel had shared this with him.  “It did not play out the same. We overcame those hardships.”
Rahsaan imagined Voriel giving a nod as the angel said, “I don't know if it was Strahd or these dark powers Mab spoke of, but I believe I lost my memory so that I would be forced to relive my failures, my faults and give into despair. I wanted so desperately to be who I was, until I realized I was broken- and needed to change. While I find myself in the same circumstance, I am not the same angel that descended into hell. Just as you are not the same orphan who ran from Nova Vaasa.”
That truly got Rahsaan’s attention. Perking up, he turned back to the statue- not with puzzled anxiety but with firm determination.
“Do not let the past define you, or it will be your future.” He said as he closed his eyes, “I do not have to keep worrying about Chime or the others back home. I have a chance to return, to expose the Lawgiver as the frauds they are, show them the mercy and grace of a true god. I will not let Strahd's parlor tricks, attacks or otherwise dissuade me”
He opened his eyes as he heard footsteps coming down the corridor- Eylylyn had probably finished whatever she did. He greeted the others before they decided what to do with the next room. Whether it was a trick of the light or something else, Rahsaan did not see with his back turned, but the expression on the statue’s face almost seemed appeased.