The Path to Gold

The church bell tolled, breaking the quiet with its solemn call to wake. Angelique sat up, blinking and rubbing the sand from her eyes. She yawned heavily, not quite ready for the day to begin. As her feet swung out of bed and hit the cold stone floor, she pushed herself up, swaying side to side as she fell toward her washbasin.

The cool water helped her to wake, and as she did, her movements became fluid—practiced, precise, controlled. Discipline had been ingrained in her from the moment she rose from the spawning pool. Yet she always had trouble waking. Today was no different, but, at the same time, it was. She smiled widely in her mirror, hair wild and uncombed. Today is the day of her promotion.

As she dressed in the flowing white robes of the Order, she examined herself. Not a fold out of place. She brushed her honey gold hair, flipping it into a neat but loose braid. Her features were delicate, her curves were pronounced—presentation was as important as devotion. She had worked tirelessly for the right of Holy Transfusion, and once she had attained it, kept her appearance pleasing to herself and others. Regardless of the stares she would receive, the admission of her beauty was something she relished. It was a gift from the Lord after all, and everyone knew it.

Now, Angelique had a new moment to be proud of. Golden Sisterhood was within her grasp. A position of honor and stability. A way to serve the Lord even better and prove her devotion and love to the all-knowing.

She smiled with excitement as she looked back at the room for the last time. She would be moving to new lodgings soon, closer to the Lords cloister, the heart of the city. She squealed quietly to herself, taking giddy and quick steps in place at the thought, before composing herself and walking out the door.

The city beyond her room stretched into the heavens, a marvel bestowed upon the people by the Lord. Below, the surface world lay in ruin, a stark wasteland of crumbling structures and desolation, an eternal reminder of why they must remain above.

Built upon a vast floating platform, this metropolis hovered high above the ruined surface world, a bastion of humanity’s last remnants. Towers of opalescent stone spiraled toward the sky, their gilded edges shimmering in the morning sun. Stained glass bridges connected soaring cathedrals, their grand domes adorned with intricate celestial murals.

Angelique made her way through the streets, head held high, acknowledging each Sister, Brother, and Unproven she passed by, as they did her. The majority of Brothers would utter a phrase to her as they passed, bow their head, and continue on their way. She attempted to bottle and remove the pride she felt, yet her heart swelled with love for the Lord when she heard them.

"Your appearance inspires thoughts of sin."

A polite confession of impure thoughts. An acknowledgment of beauty wrapped in devotion. She responded as she always did, with a serene smile and a downward gaze, feigning humility.

The halls of the cathedral bustled with activity, sisters attending to their morning duties, voices murmuring prayers in perfect unison. The scent of incense clung to the air, mixing with the distant chime of bells. She walked with measured steps, acknowledging her fellow Sisters with nods of respect.

The Unproven scurried about, cleaning, making meals, and repairing anything broken. All the little things that added up to become something bigger were done by the Unproven, toiling in quiet servitude. The faceless clones, creatures of function rather than individuality, moved through their designated stations like clockwork. They neither spoke nor questioned their purpose, their existence defined by unyielding obedience from the moment they pulled themselves from the spawning pool.

Clones who proved themselves worthy—through unwavering devotion, efficiency, and obedience—were granted the ultimate blessing: a personal appearance. With it came a name, an identity, a place among the faithful. It was the closest thing to rebirth in a world where resurrection was a privilege reserved for the Seven Seraphim. Many never achieved this honor, remaining voiceless and blank, their existence a testament to humanity’s survival through subjugation.

For most, individuality was an abstract concept, distant and unattainable. Only those who proved themselves truly exceptional could earn the right to a name and a face through Holy Transfusion. Among the featureless masses, there were always those who worked harder—not just for the promise of identity, but for something deeper, something even they could not fully define. Angelique remembered that feeling all too well. The ache of yearning, the relentless drive to be seen, to be real. It had pushed her forward then, just as it did now.

"Angelique!"

She turned just in time to see a blur of white robes before arms wrapped around her in a tight embrace. Laughing, she returned the hug, recognizing the familiar warmth of Sister Mariana.

"I was hoping I’d see you today," Angelique said, pulling back to look at her friend. "Tell me, have you been given your placement yet?"

Mariana grinned, practically glowing. "Golden Sisterhood! Can you believe it? I’m to be stationed at the western cloister, near the grand archives."

Angelique beamed. "That’s wonderful, Mariana. You deserve it."

Mariana tilted her head, studying her. "And you? Surely you’ll be assigned alongside me?"

Angelique clasped her hands together, practically bouncing on her heels. "Of course! The Bishop himself recommended me for Golden Sisterhood. We’ll finally be serving in the heart of the city!"

Mariana squealed, grabbing Angelique’s hands. "Oh, this is perfect! We’ll be living in the cloister, studying scripture, advising the faithful—"

"And no more endless errands or waking before dawn," Angelique added with a conspiratorial smirk.

"Praise be to the Lord!" Mariana giggled. "When do you receive your final confirmation?"

"Soon. I’m meeting with the bishop this morning."

Mariana squeezed her hands one last time. "Then go! The sooner it’s official, the sooner we can celebrate. I’ll be waiting to hear all about it."

With one last radiant smile, Angelique turned and continued toward the grand chamber, her heart light with anticipation. She had worked for this, prayed for this. And soon, it would be hers.