Rising Sun

In books and in art, Agnes Owl has always seen the skies in shades of blue and white. She's seen magnificent colours of blood and violet spilling over fluffy clouds and treetops. She has dreams in vivid colours, where she can touch beams of light that warm her entire being.

The waking world is a grim difference; a reminder of miserable mistakes that were made by generations before, the sky has vanished beneath an impenetrable blanket of smog. Even the tops of the buildings, still groaning with the weight as they teeter far above the cover, are invisible to those who scrape by in the Below.

The sun is a pale dot of grey in a blanket of darkness, only visible to the Elite, who live above the pollution.

Every few generations or so, a Vessel is chosen from the children of the Elite, to carry the power and responsibilities of a god who has grown too weary and weak to carry on. In Agnes' generation, none have been chosen. There have been murmurs that the God of the Sun has died, leaving no Vessel--abandoning those of the Below.

Agnes has proof that says otherwise, but she's not sure if she should tell, or try and make her escape.