Chapter 36: Eve
God declared the Throne Angel Lilith fallen and struck her name from the celestial registry.
Heaven was plunged into unprecedented panic.
Adam, however, knew nothing of this; he was fast asleep, dreaming.
His dream was bathed in gold. An angel, whose features remained indistinct, glided gracefully toward him. The angel leaned down and gently touched his forehead—a touch that seemed to carry the hint of a smile.
"Adam."
His light brown eyes fluttered open. Adam sprang from his bed of clouds, brimming with energy as he welcomed the new day.
The Chief Seraph was nowhere to be found in his private chambers, nor was his figure visible in his office. Adam wandered around in disappointment for a moment before deciding to go out for a stroll.
"Good morning, Aryo!"
While the mortal realm knew the cycle of dawn and dusk, Adam—following his own internal rhythm—had established his own three-part schedule even here in Heaven. The span of time from the moment he first opened his eyes until his stomach began to rumble like a drumbeat he designated as "morning"; the long stretch of time following a hearty meal he called "afternoon"; and the hours spent lying in bed in weary repose, he termed "night." Thus, the cycle turned.
He greeted an angel passing by, but the angel merely cast a glance at him, offered no reply, and hurriedly turned away to leave.
Adam felt a flicker of bewilderment, yet he didn't dwell on it. Instead, he cheerfully called out to another angel approaching from some thirty meters away.
"Good morning, Nisroch!"
Nisroch's reaction was even more extreme than Aryo's. Upon hearing Adam's voice, the angel—who had originally been heading in his direction—abruptly veered off course and flew away without so much as a backward glance.
"What is going on?" Usually, whenever he greeted the angels—these beautiful, winged friends of his—they would invariably return his courtesy with equal politeness. Just then, he spotted a four-winged Throne Angel passing by.
"Adramelech!" This time, he called out as he dashed forward, finally managing to catch hold of the angel just before he could take flight. "Adramelech, are you angry?"
"How dare I be angry with *you*?" the Throne Angel replied, his face a mask of coldness, as he let out a disdainful huff.
"Then why is it that when I call out to you—and to the other angels, too—none of you answer me?"
"Your Grace, how could we possibly dare *not* to answer you?" Adramelech withdrew his hand, distancing himself slightly from the human. "He was likely just busy attending to matters and simply didn't hear you," the angel said, pulling out a handkerchief and vigorously scrubbing his hands—as if those hands were mortal enemies he held a deep grudge against—until they were rubbed raw and crimson.
"Please don't do that; I don't like it." Although the angel had not uttered a single harsh word, Adam still keenly sensed the hostility radiating from him. He could not quite articulate this feeling, yet he felt profoundly unsettled by it.
"In that case, go ahead and lodge a complaint against me before God! Since I, Adimiel, have incurred your displeasure, go ask God to banish me from Heaven as well!" The Throne Angel cast a scornful glance at the human before turning on his heel and sweeping away.
Adam stared blankly at the angel's retreating figure. Then he noticed that wherever he went, the air seemed to be ravaged by the frigid chill of the Lunar Sphere, instantly rendering the surroundings desolate and cold.
Consequently, God observed that Adam's requests for an audience had become increasingly frequent. Moreover, the human would often linger in the Great Cathedral for half the day at a time—his demeanor listless and dejected—yet he would offer no explanation for his presence.
God sighed and called out to the human, who sat facing the cathedral wall as if he intended to remain there until the end of time.
"Adam."
Adam turned his face toward Him—an expressionless mask with vacant, unfocused eyes. The moment his gaze met the dazzling, holy radiance emanating from the Throne, a single tear broke free and fell with a soft *plink*.
He felt a stinging pain in his eyes, fearing he was going blind.
"You will not go blind," God reassured him, gently stroking the human who now lay weeping across His knees, as He slightly dimmed the intensity of His divine light.
"Father, is it because I have no wings that the angels dislike me?"
No. It is because you possess no wisdom.
For if you possessed wisdom, you would learn to steer clear of that which harms you, and to seize only that which you desire.
If you possessed wisdom, you would conduct yourself with propriety and perceive all things with perfect clarity.
God knew this full well, yet He still had no intention of granting him that gift.
For with wisdom comes the understanding of what constitutes suffering.
With eyes truly opened—capable of discerning both good and evil—one simultaneously forfeits the good... and gains the evil. "You say the angels are my companions," Adam said, his voice tinged with confusion. "I have so many companions, yet I still feel alone."
"I have existed in solitude since the very beginning, yet I have never known loneliness. Adam, why can you not find peace in this solitude, just as I do?"
"You are not like me; You are the Supreme Sovereign, and this entire world belongs to You," Adam said, lifting his head from God's lap and speaking in a calm, measured tone.
"The angels fear You, for You hold the power to exalt or cast them down. Whenever You feel a pang of loneliness, You need only elevate them to a fitting station to converse with You."
"My Father—by that reckoning, You are not truly alone. But I am different; with whom, then, can I share my joys and my sorrows?" As Adam spoke these words, a sudden thought struck him, and he shook his head.
"No—not You."
Before God could even offer Himself, Adam preemptively declined the unspoken offer, speaking with a clarity that bordered on willful petulance.
"True equality in companionship exists only between kindred creations. I cannot genuinely share the depths of my being with You—even though I know that You could claim every part of me without ever needing my consent."
"..."
The flip side of lacking wisdom often manifests in the form of human impulsiveness and blunt candor. God gazed down at Adam—who stood there, arguing his case with such earnest conviction—and suddenly felt a strange mix of exasperation and amusement.
He gently lulled Adam into slumber, then retreated into the vast, empty sanctuary to immerse Himself in contemplation.
'My Lord, the Arch-Seraph stands once again before the Seventh Heaven's Gate of Passage,' the Book of Genesis reminded Him.
And so, God cast His gaze down toward the lower realms, His golden eyes fixing upon the Arch-Seraph standing before the Gate. Lucifer had grown increasingly silent of late; he would often stand before the Gate, yet rarely requested an audience. Typically, he would simply stand there for a while, then quietly depart.
This time was no different. The matter of Lilith had proven somewhat thorny; God did not regret stripping Lilith of her angelic status—for Heaven could never tolerate an angel whose heart had succumbed to corruption—yet He knew, too well, that this act had wounded Lucifer's heart.
Lucifer valued his companions more than he valued himself; in every respect, he had always been a worthy and exemplary Arch-Seraph. Yet, there was truth in what Adam said; after all, angels and humans are two distinct orders of beings.
He bent down, opened Adam's left flank, and drew forth a single rib.
In his slumber, the human furrowed his brow, wearing a smile that seemed at once pained and blissful.
It was as if he sensed something being stripped away from within him—yet also sensed that it had not truly departed.
God stroked his head soothingly; under the power of His divine will, Adam's wound instantly closed and healed, leaving not the slightest trace behind.
God held the rib—still warm with Adam's body heat and vitality—between His hands; beneath His touch, a new being took form.
"Open your eyes, Eve."
Adam awoke within the radiant sanctuary of light. He gazed around him in bewilderment, unsure of when he had fallen asleep, or why.
But when his eyes fell upon the figure standing nearby—a being so like him, yet so utterly distinct—his vision narrowed until she was the only one he saw.
He recalled that golden dream, and a smile of pure joy blossomed upon his lips.
God had said her name was Eve.
Eve gazed back at him, shy and silent; in her presence, he felt a surge of joy and vitality unlike anything he had ever known.
She was pure; she was gentle; she was yielding; she was radiant with glory—as if all the beauty of the world had converged within her alone.
"The moment I saw you, I felt complete," he told Eve. He had never known such a feeling before; it was only with Eve by his side that he felt truly whole—unaware, of course, that she was originally a part of his very own body.
Thus did the progenitors of the human race originate from a single source. He loved Eve as he loved himself; to look upon Eve was to look upon his own reflection.
She was his perfect counterpart, for they were—in essence—one; sharing a common origin, though born into separate forms.
God bestowed the Garden of Eden upon this newly formed human couple as their dwelling place, and then summoned the Arch-Seraph to the Crystal Heaven.
Lucifer swiftly answered the call. He bowed reverently before God, then stepped aside to listen as the Lord gave His instructions regarding the humans. "Of every tree in the garden you may freely eat; but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die."
Adam may not have fully grasped the profound significance of God's words, but now that he had Eve, his world was filled with pure joy; he nodded his head with eager haste.
Seeing his demeanor, God did not detain him any longer; instead, He turned to the Seraphim standing quietly nearby and bade him escort Adam and Eve to the Garden of Eden.
"I shall now enter into seclusion. Unless a matter of grave urgency arises in the coming days, do not seek audience in the Grand Cathedral."
"As you command."
Lucifer led the two humans out of the Grand Cathedral. As he heard the great doors of the sanctuary slowly closing behind them, he cast a sidelong glance at the pair beside him.
Adam possessed a broad brow and handsome features, with shoulders wide and strong—he was truly in the prime of his youthful vigor. Eve was gentle and graceful, radiating a tender warmth; they were, indeed, a match made in heaven.
The corners of his lips curved upward slightly as he offered them a faint word of congratulations.
For some inexplicable reason, Adam felt a twinge of apprehension in Lucifer's presence—even though the Chief Seraphim appeared, outwardly at least, far more approachable than any of the other angels.
Obeying God's instructions, Lucifer settled the humans within the Garden of Eden on the Fourth Heaven. The garden was replete with every necessity, requiring no further provision or care; he simply assigned two Cherubim to stand guard at the entrance before taking flight and departing.
Can humanity truly sustain itself on mere ignorance alone?
Or perhaps, ignorance *is* their true bliss.
If that were indeed the case... well, it left him at a loss for words.
Perhaps God was right. Of what avail was such deep contemplation as his own? Lucifer offered a smile devoid of warmth—one tinged with a subtle weariness and detachment—as he stepped into his own private quarters, where, as expected, he found a gathering of Seraphim waiting for him.
This was the first time God had summoned him—and indeed, the first time He had summoned any of the angels—since the Fall of Lilith; it was only natural that they should be feeling anxious.
"Your Highness!" several angels greeted him, bowing in deference. Lucifer swept his gaze across the group: Michael, Samael, Gabriel, Metatron—every Seraphim of any consequence was present. "Did God truly create a companion for him?" The Archangel of Thrones stared intently at him, his brow deeply furrowed, giving his face a grim cast that was truly frightening.
"Mm, it is said to have been fashioned from Adam's rib." Lucifer mused with an air of detachment as he waited for a attending angel to fetch his ceremonial sword from his private chambers.
Adam really ought to be shown what true wrath looks like.
"Bone of his bone, flesh of his flesh." Metatron clasped his hands within the folds of his robe—a habitual gesture whenever he was deep in thought.
"God truly holds humanity in high regard."
"Some 'flesh of his bone' that is!" Gabriel fumed indignantly. "Had we known it would come to this, why bother speaking of searching among the angels to find a mate for humanity in the first place?"
"And what, then, was Lilith's defection all for?"
"Do not utter that name here in Heaven." A Cherubim presented the Seraphim Archangel's greatsword; Lucifer allowed the angel to fasten the blade to his waist, then turned to regard Gabriel with an utterly expressionless face.
"Your Highness! Can you truly tolerate that—that ignorant human?"
"This matter has nothing to do with Adam." Having delivered this cold retort, Lucifer paid no further heed to Gabriel's reaction; instead, he turned to address Michael.
"It has been a long time since we went out to 'hunt the wind.' Will you join me?"
Michael paused, momentarily taken aback. Glancing at the stack of pending documents piled upon the Seraphim Archangel's desk, he felt that His Highness seemed—somehow—different than before.
Lucifer sensed the thoughts passing through his adjutant's mind, and he smiled.
"Official duties can be attended to at any time; for now, let us simply unwind." A dark, fleeting glint flickered across his pale-blue eyes.
"The Divine One is about to enter seclusion."
He cast a deep, penetrating gaze upon the assembled Seraphim—a gaze that lingered just a moment longer upon Gabriel and Samael. "Unless it is a matter of utmost urgency, do not disturb me."
Having spoken, he took a long stride and walked briskly toward the palace exit. His elaborate Archseraphic vestments—heavily embroidered and ceremonial—had, at some point unbeknownst to anyone, transformed into practical hunting attire. Michael accompanied him, and in an instant, the vast palace hall was left with only three Archseraphs. Metatron, ever gentle yet a man of few words, simply nodded to his two colleagues and departed as well.
"It seems everyone else has resigned themselves to their fate," Samael remarked, his voice heavy with despondency.
"That is *God*."
"You two may be able to endure this, but I cannot!" Gabriel thought of the angel who had plunged into the Sea of Blood; tears welled in her eyes. She stormed out of the council chamber and, without a word of explanation, headed straight for the teleportation array.
"I'm coming with you," Samael said, catching up to her.
Together, the two angels submitted a formal request for an audience with the Divine Presence, but for a long time, there was no response.
"God does not wish to see us."
Gabriel gazed intently at the inert teleportation array. "No," she said. "His Highness stated that God has entered a period of seclusion."
"So, are we simply to wait?" Samael clenched his fists, a sense of bitter frustration rising within him.
"You wait here; I am going up," the golden-haired female angel declared. She made to step into the magic circle, but Samael, startled, grabbed her arm to hold her back.
"Are you insane? To ascend to the Crystal Heaven without God's permission—you'll be..."
"Be it punishment or banishment from Paradise, I *will* go to the Divine Presence and demand an explanation!"
"Then I shall..."
"No, Samael! You stay here." Gabriel gazed gently at the Archangel of Thrones' stern, chiseled features. "You have always been prone to intense emotions and are not one for diplomacy; if you go up there, you might inadvertently provoke the Divine Wrath."
"At the very least, I am far calmer than you are. We have no idea what awaits us up there; we cannot risk losing both of us."
"You must be sensible. Just in case..." She paused, then gave a comforting embrace to Samael, who stood frozen like a statue. "I mean, in case anything happens, you have to be okay."
Samael watched Gabriel leap into the teleportation array. A flash of fiery light, and then Gabriel was nowhere to be found.
He stood there for a long time, then suddenly collapsed to his knees in despair.
"If only I were more useful," he thought, hating for the first time why he was born so clumsy.
Therefore, he was disliked by the gods, unable to protect his subordinates, and unable to protect Gabriel.
(You provide the author Danmu's [Hebrew Mythology]: A Difficult Journey to Worldhood)