In the silence that followed war, the older twin—He Who Dwells in Radiance—turned His gaze away from the shattered gates of Heaven, away from the wound in the cosmos where Hell had festered into being. His heart, bruised by betrayal, beat not with rage, but purpose.
"Let there be order," He whispered.
And so, Creation unfurled.
On the First Day, He tore open the veil of the Void. He cleaved light from darkness, shaping Day and Night with hands that glowed like a thousand suns.
The light obeyed, brilliant and pure,
And the dark receded, solemn and sure.
Thus came the cycle, the sacred divide—
One for the waking, one to confide.
On the Second Day, He breathed and the heavens stretched high. The firmament—sky—was born, separating the waters above from the deep below. A great canvas of blue was pained over the endless deep, the vault of the sky shimmering with newborn clarity.
On the Third Day, He beckoned to the deep and the oceans obeyed, parting to reveal land. From the soil He summoned trees bearing trees bearing fruit, flowers of every color, and grass as soft as silk. Mountains rose like crowned kings, and rivers flowed like veins through a living world.
On the Fourth Day, He set the cosmos in motion. A golden sun to rule the day. A silver moon to guide the night. And stars—so many stars, scattered like diamonds in a velvet sky, each humming with their own name and purpose.
On the Fifth Day, He filled the seas with serpents, leviathans, and gentle fish. The sky sang with the flutter of wings—doves, hawks, and creatures never seen again. Each beat of wing and fin echoed with joy.
On the Sixth Day, He turned to the land.
He formed beats with hooves and claws, scales and fur. Lions roared. Deer leapt. Insects stirred in the underbrush and great beasts shook mountains with their steps.
And then... He knelt.
From the dust of the Earth, He shaped Adam.
Not just of clay, but of essence. His breath—divine and eternal—He breathed into Adam's lungs, and the man opened his eyes.
And where there was silence, now there was wonder.
And where there was clay, now there was Man.
Adam stood naked beneath the heavens, his body crafted in the image of his Maker, Muscles like flowing rivers, eyes like the morning sky. He was first, and he was alone.
So the Creator brought him to the center of the world.
A garden.
A place not bound by mortal geography.
Where rivers of crystal water flowed uphill, winding between trees older than stars.
Where fruits shimmered like starlight, and flowers whispered secrets in the wind.
Golden canopies of leaves stretched endlessly, casting gentle hues of emerald and violet across the ground. Birds of every kind—some seen, some forgotten—sang in harmony. The air itself was music.
The ground pulsed with life. Serpents with wings slithered through trees. Lions lay beside lambs. The moon and sun shone together, in perfect accord.
And at the heart of the garden stood two trees.
One, tall and radiant, bore silver fruit that healed every wound—The Tree ofLife.
The other, darker, its bark like obsidian veins and its fruit glowing softly red—The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.
The Creator spoke to Adam as a father speaks to his son.
"Eat freely of all that grows in this garden,
but from the tree of knowledge you must not partake.
For on the day you do, you shall surely fall."
Adam nodded, understanding not the depth of the warning, only the love with which it was given.
Then came the task of naming.
All creatures—by two and by ten—were brought before Adam.
He looked upon the long-necked wanderers and called them giraffe.
He pointed to the roaring beast and said lion.
To the fluttering rainbow of wings—butterfly.
And in this naming, he grew in soul, in mind, and in wonder. But still... he was alone.
So the Creator caused Adam to sleep.
And from the bone closest to his heart, He fashioned Eve—not from earth, but from Adam's own essence.
She awoke beneath the canopy of stars, her hair flowing night, her eyes holding the curiosity of all Creation.
When Adam beheld her, he whispered in awe,
"Bone of my bone... flesh of my flesh."
And they laughed in the garden, they danced in Eden, and for a time, all was perfect.
But above them, Heaven watched.
And below them, Hell stirred.
And thus was committed the Fourth Sin—not of action, but of seed: for within Eden bloomed the quiet shadow of future disobedience.