Ascension

Chapter 1

I wake to the pre grey skies of early dawn, a habit built from instinct not necessity.

It is these moments, before the sun crests the horizon and before my alarm blares to life, I feel most at peace. I feel the safest.

I get to experience the brief falsehood that I yearn for: freedom.

Satin sheets and fluffed comforters make up my bed. I don't deny I enjoy the perks of my position, however many sacrifices it entailed to fill the role.

On my side I lay, awake and still- hopeful that it goes unnoticed that I am conscious before the time for my waking- gazing at the minimal gap between the sterile white blinds gifting me the barest view of  sky.

Too soon, my eyes squinted at the glaring light as the mechanical blinds opened right at 6am and my alarm signed off next to me, three loud tones, before a cold even voice greeted me from one of the speakers integrated with the smooth white of the ceiling -invisible to the untrained eye.

"Good morning, Angel Ayira. It is currently 6am. Today begins the 7 day count down until your release. Please, rise and give thanks."

It was something all Angels were used to. Living every day they spent in Heaven hearing one of 'them' guide you. One of the Seraphine that were assigned to you.

But, like any other Angel, I have never seen them personally, and am uncertain of what they look like.

At times I wonder if I have spied them on the holo screens, the few times they have graced the communal prayer.

I only know that she guides me in my adult life, while nurses, teachers, employers, and other Angels with similar rank to my own help raise me. I study the scripture and work hard to ascend, silent of question and blind to deceit.

That is if I had been a true Angel.

I stand from the bed, not tired. 

Taking a shaky breath, I pushed a hand through my hair catching my reflection in the window, unfocused from the rising dawn that encapsulated the ivory roof tops and shining white streets to my own muted reflection.

The rust-colored strands were in a disarray and my brown eyes were alert. I was shorter than many, with olive colored skin and a lethal body that did not possess the curves many of the other Angel women did in my sector.

I stare at myself for a moment pondering. I don't believe I am ugly. My face is plain, uniform, my coloring without extravagance. It had benefited me, the unmemorable features easily lost among a crowed- easier to forget. Easy to not question. 

Easy to trust.

Sighing I close my eyes, allowing myself an extra moment of calm, another minute of shaky silence.

Five years to the day and I finally would be released to Nirvana. I would ascend into a state far higher than my own, and if I succeeded and proved myself worthy-would return as a Seraphim.

Or so was the lies they would have lead many to believe.

Padding across cool tiled white floors I headed across the white painted room to the sterile white washroom.

Looking into the mirror I cleared my throat, forcing the words out. No matter the years of constant repeat, a small part of me still shriveled in absolute reproach.

"All hail God who cared for us: the Angels.

All hail to the powers on high, may they guide us to Nirvana.

I will perform my duties effectively, efficiently, with no questions and no qualms.

Thus is the way to a beautiful world.