The end of the era of creation was near when he was made. Typically creatures of the Goddesses were made separately, but to work in harmony. He, however, was crafted by both hands. A physical form given to him by the Night Mother, molded like clay from granite a stardust, kindled in the chest with a touch of her sacred flame. The Divine Mother cradled him, and breathed his first breath of life into him; gifting him, as a celebration of his birth, wings made of glass and a halo of radiant colour. He was the first creature of his kind- a Vampire in Angelic clothing, so different from the sharp Vampires of the Night Mother, so different from the soft Angels of the Divine Mother. And yet still... He was happy among his family. He, a bridge between his night siblings and day siblings, happy to go back and forth from inside and outside their flock of humans. 

For centuries he acted in both roles, a guide and a protector for humans alongside his siblings. Guiding their lessers through life as the civilization Raisel began to take shape. The humans built places of worship for his mothers, painted murals for him and his Angelic siblings, all the while his Vampiric siblings were left as unknown protectors. A by-product of their naturally shy natures, one which could not be helped. And seemingly, no one minded it. The Goddesses machinations as they planned to depart back to their Evergarden were coming finally to fruition. 

He was young too, when it all fell apart. His halo but a crest around his head, his wings not yet clean of their soft, rounded down feathers. He was on his way to report to the Night Mother after a night on the hunt with his Vampiric brethren, but he was not the only one there. One of the Vampires turned, suddenly, and stabbed the Night Mother in the back with a blade crafted by human hands, a blade that drained the energy of the Night Mother before she could react, and turned her to naught but dust in the wind. 

That was the day his life turned grey- as rage built up inside of him, faced with the overwhelming grief in the death of a Goddess and his mother at the hands of Vincent Corvus, a sibling he'd trusted for his whole life. Their mothers designed them unable to hurt one another, never able to turn on one another, so despite Blaise's rage and sorrow, there was nothing he could do about the traitor. In a fit, his flames raged and boiled, until his frail halo and wings could take no more, and shattered into a million pieces, leaving Blaise singed and flightless as Vincent made his escape.

...He walked among humans from then on. Trying to fill his duties without the voices of his mothers to guide him, trying still to be a protector outside of the flock and a guide within. But time and time again, humans learned to be selfish and abused his nature. Until he couldn't take it anymore- and closed himself off from the world. He wandered Raisel until no one knew his name anymore, until he no longer resembled the stained glass Angel in the Solgrace mural. Until he could no longer hear the voices of those devout to him. He became a teacher at a magic school when it first began- yearning for something, a place to belong, a place with rules so that he could still try to help without getting hurt. And there... He has been ever since. Waking every day the same, unchanging, in a monotone life. Even still he holds onto the past, visiting the Night Mother's shrine to pray to deaf ears, yearning for some sign from the Divine Mother that she still watched over him. Only ever finding silence and solitude, a lonely, painful existence.