Ascension

Prelude

Religion is regarded by the common people as true,

by the wise as false,

and by rulers as useful.

- Seneca.

Heaven was stunning.

Elevated from Earth, in a world of its own floating high above, Heaven was all marbled pillars, shining white metals, glistening water, green plants that never struggled for sunlight or nutrients. The weather was consistently fair, and the food invariably bountiful. Illness and pain were a foreign concept to those who found themselves able to reside in the clean streets of that brilliant white city.

Those in heaven had nothing for want.

At the center of this expansive floating city, was The Church.

Where on Earth there were a great many churches, spattered about and of various sizes and splendor so the numerous Sheep may attend and pray to God in hopes of someday ascending, Heaven only held The Church.

It stood, arches of gold interlaying the white marble, large windowpanes adorned with painted glass depicting the glory of God, towering pillars of marble that glistened in the setting sun, winking with the fiery colors of the late evening. The sun pulled its brilliance behind the embrace of two large mountains, the Earth below already covered in a cold darkness that soon would bathe Heaven, allowing electric lights to illuminate the surrounding streets, homes, and towers in a warm magical glow.

At this time, when the twilight was at its peak before the sky fully rested in darkness, the Angels of the middle and lower class would gather at The Church for their evening prayer.

The motions of prayer frequently where an easy escape to mindlessly fall into, the clasp of hands, bowing of heads, light words whispered fervently with even breath, the occasional brush of arms and whisper of robes sweeping the floor as hundreds of thousands gathered in the church, most their pure white robes undisrupted with a portion of the massive crowed only marred by sashes of a single color;yellow, purple, orange, or green.

"Many have decided to attended this evenings prayer," a tall man to her left mused under his breath, having finished the motion to the last prayer in unison with the rest, nudging her arm ever so slightly at the end of the movement.

There was a common misbelief among the sheep that prayer must be attended to. It was not so, though very few of the devout angels would be seen doing otherwise, and never to miss more than two of the three in one day. To be seen at every prayer was something for the most devout, and if anything Ayira was certain to be devout.

Ayira had seen The Church fuller than this, a time that even when the Thrones and Cherubim had been among their ranks, and separated just above, the few Seraphim attending by screen- that had happened less than a hands count of times in Ayira's own lifetime.

Looking up to the towering apse leading her gaze to the Mother Mary holding the son of God in her arms, she pondered the Seraphim while absent mindedly gazing at the depiction as she often found herself during these moments of prayer and worship.

Ayira had never the opportunity to directly speak to any one of the Seraphim, their position closest to God and one that required much of their time and energy. She knew she had been assigned her own, as all angels of middle rank were, though she was never graced their name or granted an audience. It wasn't necessary as they were the judge and she but the meager offering.

The few she had seen the higher angels on the screens during these times, made them seem perfect and unnaturally beautiful. Looking at them was something both awe inducing, and provoking fear. The rare times they had graced the lower angels with their visits, Ayira had always forgotten to try and memories their features, so unlike theirs but so alike at the same time it was hard to keep to memory. It was as if later the mind would warp the image to something more natural.

More human.

They were unnerving in a way she couldn't quite place.

Her thoughts couldn't linger for long, as Lael brushed her hand with his own, snapping her back to the present and she directed her gaze to the mans knowing eyes.

She bit her inner cheek at the grin spreading reluctantly across the span of her cheeks and shifted so that her toe knocked his foot upon the move of their next prayer, a stretch of the legs and arms that, with their sashes marking their class respectively- her own orange and his green- they should have been well practiced enough to move along side their partners without touching.

"I know being a Virtue has its perks," the man continued as he shifted out of the last prayer stance, lightly brushing her hand on his way back to clasping his own and bowing his head humbly to God," but you Virtues need to learn to loosen up a bit. Have some fun."

She could see him out of the corner of her eye.

Tall, not the tallest of those around standing just shy of 6 foot, but well enough that if she wished to look him in the eye she would have to raise her own. His skin was darker than her olive tones, though not as black as some around her, and she secretly would count the freckles on his cheeks at times. 32. He had hair such a dark brown that it could easily be mistaken for black in poor lighting, the unruly curls held back at the base of his neck in a tight gold clasp.

The clasp allowed just enough for her to see the marring of skin at the base of his neck, and her smile waned.

Most of the Angels as they became middle and upper class held such advancements.

The metal, silvern and glittering in color, imbedded into his skin seamlessly, reaching under his collar and surely rooted into his very bone, made it so Lael held strength he normally would not, and endurance unseen in the sheep that lived in the hollows of land below the floating city.

Ayira cast her eyes back to the floor, well practiced movements fluid and her expression serene not relinquishing her inner turmoil.

It wasn't spoken about openly, the sacrifices.

How those who opted to become apart of the Offering did not upgrade themselves like Lael and many of the others surrounding her did, in hopes of Ascending to a higher position among their ranks, and possibly earn their wings.

Sacrifices kept their body pure, unmarred by technological upgrades in favor of one day giving themselves to God, in hopes to serve among the Seraphim if found worthy.

A small consultation was that Lael would never try to become an offering. And Ayira could not be more thankful.

Closing her eyes Ayira urged her beating heart to slow and fell into the familiar calming movements of prayer.

Ayira, unmarred, unaltered, had other reasons for not wishing to upgrade herself.

And it was not her plan to be among the sacrificed.