Marked by the now twice rotation of the tallow lights, their short lived flame burning a sour pungent scent among the Firmament and dusting the air with grey smoke, near 2 hours had passed and I was eager to be released from my duty, the Firmament was quickly wearing at me. The bells heard from heaven were a telling sign, prayer was over for the Sisters, lecture would now commence for all prior to their evening meal. 

I stood with the other Angels, the Sisters currently in attendance thanking us with bowed heads. My legs prickled with the sharp reminder I had sat on them for far too long, I focused on this discomfort as I focused on my breath the grey sour air. An early lesson I had taught myself during my first year in the Firmament: when life around you was so intolerable, focusing on the bits of pain your body gave you reminded you that you were, in fact, still living.

This I had used as reason that, if I were still living, I could still Ascend. 

I had spent many of those days, focusing on the pinpricks in my legs, on the crests left from my nails in my palm, of the rough grey floor as I laid my head on it in prayer, half lidded eyes finding an anomaly in the brick and focusing on that for the hours spent in servitude to the prayer.

All had been considerably easier, since I had back then began my first doses of Holy Water. Now, with my dose considerably less than what would be considered 'necessary', I found myself strained at the dizzying grey tones, the ringing silence only broken dimly by the last muted tones of the bell from on high, and the many shuffling feet as robes brushed ground, entering the hall as I and the other Angels stood.

I would begin a short lecture, then we would work more intimately with the sisters, seeking out those who had questions, or who were struggling. Falak and the other Principality would go to particular Sisters- these were sisters of notable consideration for future Ascension. 

 They had done so with ones specific among the 15 most promised, and I had watched the hope dim from the others eyes despite it not being an absolute reflection of choice.  

It was a near thing, though.

The Sisters began to file in as I slid behind the podium, the Principalities flanking me and the other Virtues who stood equal to either side of me. As the one leading todays visit, I was to begin our lecture, to choose the topic.

With my Ascension nearing in less than 7 days time, and my stomach in knots that had sprouted with unforeseen agitators in the form of Falak and Lael, I closed my eyes, took that cleansing breath despite the smoke from the freshly lit candles that would have to replace the Holy Water that I wished to partake in as I watched the last few Sisters enter, drink their glass of Holy Water, and seat themselves to be lulled into its rapture as they listened to my lecture. 

I clasped my trembling hands, my robes sticking with sweat to my arms as I watched the last Sister drink the Holy Water. Prior to arriving to the Firmament my thirst and hunger had been sated by a meal, but now my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, my throat dry. 

Another cleansing breath, this time with my eyes wide open as I surveyed the Sisters in attendance. 

I could only think to lecture on one thing, for my own benefit more than any sister that was slowly slipping under the dregs of Holy Water.

"Sisters," my voice thankfully did not need to raise as it spanned the room, all eyes were on me as their minds filled with a joyous haze," Today, I shall speak of Purity. Of how God wishes us to be pure, for us to cleans ourselves, and continue to only fill ourselves with pure things so as to Ascend. I congratulate you, you who have all Ascended from Earth as I myself once had. You have already became so pure. It is here, within the Firmament,  you practice, and eat, and drink, and breath and think only things of the purest nature. So that you may Ascend to the glorious white streets of Heaven."

Speaking became easier as I reminded myself this. Reminded myself for all of my years I had done every act to become the perfect Angel. To reflect the purity that God required.

I recited from the stories I had heard since early childhood, that we all knew by heart,"' Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? Or who shall stand in his holy place?'   

- 'He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart ...' "

I swallow and silently pray for forgiveness, as for I was uncertain about the purity of my heart, about the purity of the actions my hands would be required to preform. 

Working the disgust down somewhere I couldn't give it much notice, I continued onto my lecture, giving examples and with it hope. 

Soon, a handful of Angels would be born, to walk the streets of Heaven anew, as if born again once leaving the looming muted grey streets of the Firmament. 

I would not be there to greet these new additions to our sparkling white, pure city. 

What I wished to express was done, and I stepped away from the podium to allow for another Virtue to continue lecturing, and so on, until 7 lectures in total had been given, and the Angels began to mull about with the Sisters as they rose and began to quietly whisper questions or comment on particular parts of the lecture. 

I did not join this, as for after several of my fellow Virtues had made the podium, I had felt the eyes of Mother Superior burning into me, and I did not hesitate a moment in crossing the room to her side.

She turned, knowing I would follow, and began to lead me to where I had been dreading since having first seeing her. 

I had joined as a Virtue in many chariots to the Firmament, of those trips I had very rarely lead. Todays conviction that I would be doing so was only a stipulation from that of my being a chosen, the only among our group of 9. Of the few times I had lead, I had never been host to a sending, but had seen a Virtue in leading slip off to do the deed, returning stoic but clearly shifted.

Today I would experience this shift, I told myself as I focused on the rustling sound of Mother Superior and my robes, lone in the empty grey streets as we advanced upon a single small hut behind The Abby. 

It, like all of the firmament, was grey and simple, windows and doors without covers as all lay bare and open. And still reflecting the rest of the buildings it sat squat and single floored, though not as large as the apartments that lay not long from it. I knew of it as the Last House, though I had never entered it, even upon my time as a Sister. 

This would be the place I would meet Sister Murray for the last time. 

It also would be the last place Sister Murray would ever know.

Mother Superior stopped at the entrance, stepping to the side as if she had been the door that didn't exist to the building and gave me a sharp side eyed look before jerking her head once in a firm message that I was clear to proceed in without her.

Once I did I spied a room, as sparce as any in the Firmament, but here the beds were not slabs that you lay your head down upon, learning the hard bed to be a comfort in its own the days that you spanned your life in the grey abyss. 

No I was shocked by white beds-real mattresses with white sheets that felt blinding in the world of grey. There were 6 in total, 3 making up the span of each wall as I faced the opposing end of the building, a large grey dome machine making up the farthest wall. 

All the beds lay empty, aside for one.

Sister Murray had been in the Firmament prior to my having arrived. She had prayed valiant as any of us-more than most. At our briefest times of freedom when I resided among the Sisters, she did not interact much and kept mostly to herself. She willingly would fast more than what was required, and took her Holy Water without seeming altered as much as many where, unwavering in her rapt attention to lecture and prayer. 

She still wore her robes of grey, marking her forever a sister never to Ascend to more, but despite her boney worn face, balding head and distant glossy blue eyes, I felt I was seeing someone who was the best to become an Angel, even before I had come to know of her. 

I sat on the three legged stool next to her bowing my head slightly to the mother that had stepped back at my arrival. She bowed her own in turn, and then made no other further effort to interact with me, instead meeting with another Mother I had not noticed at the end of the room, silently interacting over the large grey machine. The grey dome seemed menacing to be housed in a sick room, and it was with effort I looked away from the strange knobs and protuberances that the Mothers seemed to understand.

Forcing my attention to Sister Murray, I  reached forward, unsure of what else to say- to do to someone as they lay dying than to hold their hand and try to supply words of comfort that were earnest and not empty.

"Sister Murray," I spoke, thankful my voice didn't shake as my heart became expressive in the confinements of my chest," It is Angel Ayira. I have wished to send you off to Him so that you may find peace, as all those who have suffered and grieve before you have found it with Him."

My words clipped short near the end as she gave a surprisingly strong squeeze to my hand despite her feeble bony ones. I stared to them, interlocked, I having never seen myself as a particularly well fleshed person but intertwined with her veined paper thin digits, I seemed to reflect gluttonous indulgence. 

"A-Angel. Angel please," the voice, rarely used was thin and reedy to begin with, became difficult to hear even within the Firmament," I, I must confess."

My brow knit, the first time today that I had been unable to fully control my expression. 

"I am not a Mother, Sister-I may get for you,"

"No," the claw like grip held me in place almost as much as those glassy blue eyes did, sunken into the too bony skull, skin seemingly dressed over the bone in a death mask sagged on one side, dripping her lips and cheek in an uneven fashion. Her chapped lips parted, and she gave a rattling breath, hand weakening as if that had been all the strength given to her," please."

I was silent for a moment, eyes flicking up to the Mothers that were opening the mouth of the oval machine inspecting it, though what lay inside was blocked from my vantage point. 

Returning my gaze to her own as she lay engulfed by the sheet and fluffed pillow, I took a moment to weigh the request , "I am not a Mother."

"I know."

"I am but a Virtue. It is not my place-I cannot absolve you for transgression nor can I heal you any evils that may be gripping your heart."

"Good."

My lips thin into a silent line, measuring the challenge in Sister Murrays eyes. 

"I fear it will not bring you peace."

The thin lips wavered into a weak smile as those too big glassy eyes blinked slowly up at me, becoming possibly even glassier," I already am at peace."

My furrowed brow became deeper and I frowned but after a weak intake of air she continued in that thready whisper," I have already confessed to Mother  McCaulay. I have no sin I wish to be absolved from."

Confused I leaned in and she took a breath again, a trying thing.

"I loved Peony," the hands were once again clasping my own, and those glassy eyes closed, jaw working as she whispered in that trembling voice. I saw the blue veins on her thin eye lids, saw the pulse in her throat jumping," I had loved Peony and never was to be with her. Now, now I must go alone never having-" 

Her voice cut off, her jaw working as it trembled in effort. I was off the stool now, leaning over her confused at these words. 

"It just- I prayed. I prayed so hard. If I could but see her once more. To hold her hand as you do mine. Then I would be content. It is not to be so," a shaky breath and we both sat silent for a moment before she opened her glassy eyes to me, suddenly seeming but a child despite her wrinkled frail body," I will never again be within her glory, or hear her voice as I once had. And I pray she has found her own peace, surely having risen to that in which she dreamed."

I just stared, wanting to ask questions but uncertain of what they were completely. 

"Thank you," she released my hand, sliding her arm under the blanket to meet with the other that had not moved. 

This was not how I imagined a Sending to be. 

True, none spoke of past Sending's, they being such privet matters, but I had readied myself words from scriptures, soft comforts I wished to instill into myself in the days to come. Yet here was a woman, who had spoken instead of myself, and none of it had been of God, or the holy light he would bath her in. 

She lay so still, that I leaned forward to watch the subtle rise and fall of the sheet cast over her thin frame to ensure she had not yet passed.

"Have you gave all words of parting, Angel Ayira?"

I jerked back, eyes wide to the Mother who stood with a grave face and clouded eyes. Behind her stood the other mother, arms folded in front of her so that each her hands was ferreted up the opposing sleeve, her own dark boney face grim as she stood shorter than the mother speaking to me. 

Standing on shaky feet I nodded dumbly as they watched me, looking to the Sister then back to them, focusing to the grave demeanor of the Mother in front of me," Ha-has she.  . ."

I looked back to the sister, eyes still closed but breath still moving her chest.

"Not yet. We are to finish the sending, now, that you have gifted your words to her. Please, Angel, pray as we commence the Sending."

Nodding numbly I step back to the open floor at the end of the beds, beginning in one of my oldest most practiced prayer stances before starting the moves to the prayer I had done since childhood. 

It was the prayer given at any Sending down on Earth, and of every Ascension between the Firmament and Heaven.  

It was both comforting and disorienting to do the moves of prayer alone, watching as the stone faced mother sat the sister up in bed, and the other tipped a goblet to her lips.

As I twirled, the picture of the three that were so near seeming so unreal and distant coming and going with each rotation, I realized that they must be giving her Holy Water. 

A lot of Holy Water.

Soon my twirling and her drinking were over, I arched my back and began the next set of moves, inhaling a breath as I righted myself, bringing my raised hands down to clasp under a bowed head. Opening my mouth, I sang in the clearest voice I could the long drawn out vowels of words I knew but didn't understand. 

The  mothers wrapped the sister in her sheet, dipping their fingers in the bowl next to them, and splashing it across her still frame. 

From my working prayer, I could not tell if she no longer breathed or not.

Once fully wrapped all but her face covered, they carried her-easily enough how slight she proved to be- gently over to the cracked door of the large grey dome.

I continued to sing and to prey, but horror twisted my gut as I saw them lay her upon a slate table that rolled out gently as the door opened fully. Inside the grey machine was darkness, and I watched as they pushed Sister Murray in with trepidation. 

Continuing the prayer, I pushed my diaphragm harder, unwilling to waver in the Sisters last moments even though whatever was happening seemed so wrong to me suddenly. My voice raised in pitch, nearly drowning out the deafening tone of the door sealing, and the Mother pushing the latch closed. 

Sweat poured down my forehead as I pushed my voice in passion, wanting, needing. 

Praying. 

The taller of the two mothers fiddled with the machine, and then it flared to life, a flash briefly seen around the barest crack around the door.

My words of prayer soon died down, my movements slowed as I smelled something that was stronger and more pungent but not unlike the tallow lights. 

The three of us stood in silence, before soon the taller of the two mothers turned swiftly to me, approached and nodded her head, "It has been done. We thank you, Angel, for having graced us with your presence so as to preform the Sister Murrays Sending. May she be at peace with our Lord."

I nodded, not trusting my voice as I turned  to leave out the door, wiping my face that had became wet, blinking eyes into focus. 

Outside stood Mother Superior, as if she had been unmoving during the whole event, and at seeing me she turned with a snapped," Come. The others await at the Chariot."

Never had I ever been so glad to return to Heavens shining white streets. More today even than the day I had first Ascended from the Firmament. 

I felt grateful knowing that never again was I to visit the Firmament. But something in me was twisted , fractured that hadn't been before.  

As I filed into the Chariot, Falak a welcomed sight next to me, I felt as if there was a sort of perversion in what I had seen today. I felt shifted, as the other Angels before me had been after returning from the Sendings of their attendance. I prayed it had not sullied my own soul. That I could keep my purity for only awhile longer, for these 7 days. 

And then I thought of my own Ascension.

Would it be better to call it a Sending?