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 shiningwhite 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.

And with this, we shall guide the Fallen, in hopes of bringing them to heaven, to redemption.

Amen."

The mirrors lighting flashed from white to sapphire momentarily before a mechanical voice responded, "Morning report- 27, Sunday, of Febuary. Year A. 301. The daily task assigned: guidance and lecture. Reflection and meditation outside prayer are encouraged. You may begin your morning, Angel Ayira."

The mirror parted to allow me my toothbrush and paste, hairbrush, vitamins, and injection.

I plucked the clear vial from the dispenser, eyeing the large letters above the serial number that read "Holy Water".

It was my daily injection. I had been injecting myself with it ever since having become an Angel. The haze it created wore off shortly after midday normally, but the lethargy that it left over made it difficult to become motivated to do much else than what the Seraphim enforced.

Of course, if they became aware of my daily waking, now nearly an hour prior to my alarm, and a similar push at night, they would increase the dosage. I had no clue when this happened until after I injected myself and felt the effects lasting longer, the initial result all the stronger.

It had been nearly a year since I had last been suspected of needing a higher dose.

Would they increase it today? This week? The last of my days until I attempted what, from my knowledge, none had succeeded? I would need a clear mind for the task, and if they had increased my dose, my thoughts would become muddled, action difficult without direction. I would need direction.

They may call us angels, but in the end, with Holy Water, we are still sheep.

My Seraphim had commanded me several years ago to take up caring for some of the "Sisters" and "Brothers".

People who had spent their whole lives devoted in worship of the gods and goddesses in hopes of raising up from their fallen lives to those of the angels.

Apparently, I had the mind and charisma to lead. To prepare them for assimilation and keep them from straying from their holy path. My task assigned was guidance, not uncommon for a Virtue.

There once had been a time when I myself was known as a Sister. Angel Siren, the Virtue who had guided me, had become a sacrifice a few years ago.

I had never heard from her again.

Many waved off the sadness that ebbed at us before the Holy Water was injected- we should feel pride at her release. Remember her memory, not question why she had not qualified to become a Seraphim and trust Gods judgement.

With shaking hands, I put the injection back in place and proceeded to brush my teeth. It was as if every morning it became more difficult to not receive the shot. I would challenge myself by holding out as long as possible before the jitters became too hard, and I ended up in a cold sweat.

Gargling I nearly broke the cup when I set it down thrusting my hand forward for my Holy Water.

I took the cap off gently and positioned it to the fattier part of my right thigh. A quick pinch and air hissed out of the end leaving nothing but a tingle behind as I thrust it upward. I put it in the awaiting tray that stuck out of the bottom of the mirror and watched dazed as the tray disappeared into the wall, off to deliver my used vial.

With the injection colors were brighter, the sashes my sect and others wore standing out all the more against the sea of white. It made the only building in the whole of the city with color, The Church, seem as if it were glowing. Sounds were beautiful, the chimes for prayer moving. Everything was wonderful.

It never got old, it was almost as if I was addicted.

Oh. Yeah. I guess I am.

Right. Holy Water was an addictive drug. I am on drugs- legally. Prescribed. But I am an addict. I struggle every day to keep my head about me, to not desire a higher dose, to not get caught and be given a higher dose.

I must remember this, if I can complete the task given to me. I must remind myself that, no I do not need the Holy Water, and when I ascend must not take it.

How?

I do not know. It is difficult to plan and think of such things with my last dose so recently administered.

I had known about Holy Water before becoming an Angel. Even before I had been a Sister.

They had wanted me to know.

As I brushed my hair, I counted the strokes to attempt to stay focused. To not get lost in the haze Holy Water brought on.

Despite years of training as a child and conditioning my mind to be prepared for this task it was still a struggle. When all my hair lay absolutely flat, as for the injection brought out the need for perfection, I returned my morning items, and the mirror closed.

I caught my reflection again.

Pointed features, chin length hair framing the face to create a softening effect. A thin athletic frame, short in stature but not without its strength.

Would this be the last week I would see this body?

Would this be the last week I experienced thought, or existence?

If the plan did not work, then surely it would be the demise of not only my physical body, but my spirit as well.

I told myself I couldn't fear death. That maybe it wasn't death as in the ultimate demise we know it as.

Thoughts of Siren entered my head, and I trembled.

I turned and headed to my bedroom, where the closet now lay open ready for my dressing.

Inside all clothes were uniform; three sets of inner and outer robes, and three sets of shirts and pants. Left of all of these were 3 different beautiful orange sashes, and along the floor 3 matching sets of white boots.

Style was not something that the devout practiced in. All would wear the same robes, a sash bestowed only upon those who were graced with a sect.

Mechanically I grabbed the farthest to the right set of each, after laying my white and orange lined robe on the bed. Dressing was as much as a ritual as brushing my hair, and I ensured that everything was put on with care, laying perfectly in place.

A bell rang, chiming in the air, ringing among the city as I finished tying my sash.

This bell came from the church- I remember as a sister, and even before when living on earth I had heard the chimes.

As a child I had wistfully thought them beautiful.

Now, I had a grudging acceptance that they were.

I left my room, the door sliding shut behind me and nodded to the other women in the hall leaving their own apartments, those of my sect with the same orange swaths of cloth wrapping around their shoulders, crossing their chest, or others such as myself, around their waist.

The rest of our attire all mirrored one another, plain white robes, an outer and inner robe, with a white loose shirt and pants under them, same white boots. No tassels, no bows, no embroidery. There was no expression beyond that of how you wore your single swath of color, as if color itself was a privilege to wield.

Silently I yearned for color, for the tassels and various outfits I had once seen in my earliest years on earth. They had not been of high quality, and nothing could be as clean as heaven, but something of that time still pulled to me.

I had only seen robes with embellishment on them among the Thrones and Cherubs. Those times had been few, and I had been so overwhelmed that taking in all of the detail had been difficult.

Silently I walked among the group of Virtues as we descended before exiting our complex, every level gaining more Angels along with us. Outside, the air was invigorating and fresh, the damp from the night before rain had almost fully left, the smell lingering and I relished it while heading to The Church.

I had not experienced rain since having Ascended from Earth, the weather too tightly controlled in heaven. At night I strained to stay awake long enough to hear the first gentle patters of drops on the pane of my window.

Would I ever feel the rain again?

The complex of male Virtues joining our group and as a unit we migrated into the fold of other Angels- those of us with an assigned Sect all meeting before joining with those of the more numerous unclassed.

The virtues apartments stood at the very end of a cleared pathway sitting on the left of the path leading to the church. It, as with every structure in Heaven, was white stone, marble pillars evenly lined it, unnamed plants hanging from them almost as uniform. Two lone flags of orange were the only things to distinguish our house from any other.

It was the one of four similar sized structures, the mirroring apartments housing Dominos, sporting their mauve flags across the large street from our own orange, the Powers, their emerald flags I felt were a compliment of color standing nearest our own, and the Principalities housed neighboring the Dominoes with their rich golden color which I silently judged reflected their free nature.

"You nervous?"

I had seen Lael approaching from the gates of the Powers complex, so I just tilted my head grinning at him.

"Come on," he cajoles as we begin to advance to the many steps leading into The Church," you can be honest with me Yi."

He was grabbing my elbow and breaking us away from the pressing bodies of the angels, few taking notice of us. Everyone in the middle classes knew of our close friendship, and most of the lower classes knew or well enough educated not to worry about the problems of someone in one of the sects.

We stop midway up the step, pressed to an alcove to allow others to pass.

"Ayira. Listen. This is- I know you have dreamed of nothing more," he licked his lips, before biting the bottom one. A bad habit he knows, never has he been able to stop it.

If Angels gambled, like some of the sheep on Earth, I would have advised him never to wager a bet.

"But just know, if you decide to not ascend- I would support you,"

My chest gets this quick tightness to it, as if his words either made it difficult to breathe or had punched me. I consider his face in detail, those 32 freckles. Under his eyes seems a bit darker. Holey Water ensures our sleep patterns, unless we condition ourselves otherwise- I know of no one else aside from myself and I would never dare utter a word to anyone of such things- so I took the bags for stress over anything.

"If I am to become a sacrifice," I finally manage, guilt weighing heavy in my stomach at the lie," then know it was Gods will, and I nothing would please me more than to carry that out."

He made a sort of strangled sound in the back of his throat. I didn't know what else to say. It had been very rare over the years we had spoken about this, and never had he been so against my decision- not that I couldn't tell he wished otherwise.

"How can you stand there," he breathed, and unsure of how to address his ire my eyes scanned the few angels that were ambling into The Church- prayer would begin soon and I had ensured never to miss a one," and act as if you possibly dying is nothing!"

I gazed up to him, noticing the glassy eyes and blinked my own away. It was worse when someone else voiced my own fears.

I didn't trust my voice, so I simply shook my head and pressed passed him, grabbing his wrist while doing so to encourage his attendance.

Momentarily he held back, and when I let go he grabbed my wrist instead.

"Can't we talk?"

I pursed my lips feeling ill, seeing the door close after the last angel.

"I have never missed a prayer, Lael," I said," Don't make today the first time."

He let go of me then. I pressed forward, but didn't feel his presence follow me.

Pushing through the door I went into formation, finding a place just in time to begin the movements and opening hymns of prayer.

Lael had never missed prayer before, either, but today he had not followed me in.

My gut twisted.

For all that I cared for Lael, he had no idea the mission I had been raised for since birth, and he knew nothing of my deceit towards the Seraphim.

And with his lack of knowledge, I had to focus on the task at hand, the mission. His friendship, my feelings, whatever we could be- none of it mattered until I completed my mission.

I realized as I finished the first hymn, that I had planned for an 'after'. For returning to Lael, to my friends. For picking up where I left off after everything surely would disintegrate from the way we knew it. It was most likely a fantasy, but it kept me going. I just hoped Lael would be patient and trust in me, just as he always put his blind trust in god and the high angels command.

It frightened me this was the first time I had ever seen him question it.