Sci-Fan Saturday: Starlight and Scum

Sister Seraphim lowered herself into the grimy tunnel, the stench of sewage a baptism by decay. Her bioluminescent robes cast an eerie glow on the scuttling life clinging to the damp walls. This was not the celestial expanse she’d trained for, the star-strewn tapestry woven by the Divine Architect. This was the underbelly, the fetid cradle of humanity’s discards, the domain of the so-called Gutter God.

Seraphim, like all Skyborn, had been raised on the gospel of the heavens. The Architect, a luminous being residing in the heart of a supermassive black hole, guided their lives, his whispers carried by starlight. But whispers were growing into murmurs, doubts into heresies. People were disappearing, lured to the depths by a new prophet, a madman raving about a deity in the muck.

Seraphim, driven by a loyalty bordering on fanaticism, had volunteered to infiltrate the Gutter Church. The stench turned her stomach, but faith, cold and unwavering, kept her going. She reached a cavernous hall, the air thick with incense and sweat. A figure, shrouded in rags, stood on a makeshift pulpit, eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“He awaits,” the prophet rasped, his voice a guttural growl. “The Gutter God, the Sculptor of the Scorned, your true creator!”