The Scent of Mortals: The Genesis Trilogy, #0.5

By Kacy Barnett-Gramckow and R. J. Larson

TO CELEBRATE THE 20th anniversary of Kacy Barnett-Gramckow's The Genesis Trilogy, published worldwide in four translations, the author has researched and composed The Scent of Mortals, a prequel to her beloved trilogy. From the Creation story onward, the author brings the reader through Eden and into the pre-Flood world detailed in the Scriptures, offering insights into the lives of ancient patriarchs and their families, as well as glimpses of humankind's immortal adversaries, who've sought our destruction since the dawn of time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gram-Co-Ink
• Release date: Sep 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223744993

Kacy Barnett-Gramckow

Kacy Barnett-Gramckow is the author of Dawnlight, a Biblical Novel inspired by Matthew 27:52-53, as well as Moody Publisher's THE GENESIS TRILOGY: The Heavens Before, He Who Lifts the Skies, and A Crown in the Stars. Kacy also writes Christian Fantasy Fiction as R. J. Larson. Kacy finds research almost as interesting as writing, and she brings a lively knowledge of history to bear on her settings and characters. She and her husband, Jerry, have been married for more than thirty years, and they live in Colorado.

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Copyright 2023 by Kacy Barnett-Gramckow

Researched and written by Kacy Barnett-Gramckow

Kacy Barnett-Gramckow also writes works published as R. J. Larson

All rights reserved in all media. Without limiting the rights under the copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without prior written permission.

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NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author’s [and publisher’s] exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to train generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models."

Printed in U.S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

While every effort has been made to ensure the accuracy and legitimacy of the references, referrals, and links (collectively links) presented in this e-book, Kacy Barnett-Gramckow is not responsible or liable for broken links or missing or fallacious information at the links. Any links in this e-book to a specific product, process, web site, or service do not constitute or imply an endorsement by Kacy Barnett-Gramckow of same, or its producer or provider. The views/opinions contained at any links do not necessarily express or reflect those of Kacy Barnett-Gramckow.

Cover design by: Kacy Barnett-Gramckow and R. J. Larson

Background and interior images: Kacy Barnett-Gramckow and R. J. Larson

Feather by Katharin Fiscaletti.

Gram-Co-Ink

The Genesis Trilogy

The Scent of Mortals Prequel

The Heavens Before

He Who Lifts the Skies

A Crown in the Stars

Dawnlight

A novel. (A Study of Matthew 27:52-53)

The Blessing

A novel. (A Study of Job)

Books of the Infinite

Prophet

Judge

King

Realms of the Infinite

Exiles

Queen

DownFallen

Valor

Legends of the Forsaken Empire

Realm of Thorns (Prequel History of the Empire.)

Forfeited

Forsworn

Foretold

In memory of my brother John, whose life was stolen

by a man who wanted no law but his own.

And

In memory of my brother Jim, whose grief for John broke his heart and hastened his departure from us fourteen months later.

Brothers, we look forward to celebrating with you in heaven.

In order of appearance

Ish (Eesh) Man. A male person.

Adawm (Aw-DAWM) Name of the first human.

Adan (AY-den). Adawm’s first home—Garden of Paradise.

Nachash (Naw-KHAWSH) To hiss. To whisper a spell. Serpent.

Ish-Shah (Eesh-SHAW) A woman.

Havah (Khav-VAW) Life giver.

Kah-yin (KAH-yin) To acquire or obtain. In a lesser sense, a spear, or  lamentation. To provoke jealously.

Abiyah (AH-be-yah) Yahweh is my father.

Adana (AY-dan-ah) Delicate. From Adan.

Hebel (HEH-bel) Breath. As in vapor or vanity.

I’ma (AME-maw or EE-maw) Derived from Im or Em and the syllable Ma. Mother. Bond of the family.

Raqad (Raw-KAD) To stamp or spring about wildly.

Hacah (Haw-SAH) To hush. To hold peace.

Sheth (Shayth) A substitute. Related to ‘appoint’. Son of Adawm.

Kentum (Ken-TOOM) Century. From the root words kmtom and centum.

Khawnak (Khaw-NAK) To narrow. Figuratively, to initiate or discipline. Dedicate, train up. Alternate meaning of root word: to choke or throttle. Firstborn of Kah-yin. Name of first city. Also written as Enowk, son of Yared from the line of Sheth.

Author’s Note: In the Scriptures, Enoch, son of Cain, Enoch, the first city, and Enoch, son of Jared—father of Methuselah, are all spelled the same. To avoid confusion, I chose two variant names from the primitive root word for ‘Enoch’, naming Enoch the son of Cain as Khawnak, and Enoch, son of Yared and father of Methuselah as Enowk.

Enowk (En-OAK) To initiate or discipline. Train up, as in teaching.

Mahalalel (Mah-hal-al-ALE) Praise of God.

Nowd (NODE) Vagrancy. Land of Kah-yin, son of Adawm.

Desheh (DEH-Sheh) A sprout. Tender green herb.

Yared (YEH-red) A descent. As in, to fall. To go to the enemy.  Father of Enowk.

Adel (AY-del) God is eternal. Noble.

Uel (Oo-ALE) Wish of God.

Margalit (MAR-gah-lit) Pearl.

Shifra (SHIFF-rah) Beauty.

Abdaw (Ab-DAW) Work.

Zamar (Zaw-MAR) To strike an instrument. To sing praises. Celebrate with song.

Biynah (BEE-nah) Understanding. Knowledge. Wisdom.

Bqar (Bek-ARE) To search.

Methuwshelakh (Meth-oo-SHEH-lakh) Man of the darts. In a lesser sense, He Who departs before the waters.

Yhalelael (Yay-hal-lel-ALE) Praising God.

Libbah (Lib-BAW) Heart.

Na’iym (Naw-EEM) Delightful.

Tamiym (Taw-MEEM) Entire. Perfect. Without blemish. Undefiled.

Resheph (REH-sheph) A live coal. Or, arrow, as in ‘lightning’. 

Adnah (Ad-NAH) Pleasure.

Arag (Aw-RAG) To plait.

Mahiyrah (Maw-HEER-ah) Quick. Skillful or hasty.

Emuwn (Ay-MOON) Established. Faithful. Trustworthiness.

Paliy (Paw-LEE) Remarkable. A secret. Wonder.

Azazel (Az-ah-ZALE) Scapegoat.

Elown (Eye-LONE) Oak tree.

Yathowm (yaw-THOME) Lonely. An Orphan..

Achaliya (Awk-ah-LEE-ah) A wishful plea. ‘Oh, would that G_d’.

Khawvilah (Khav-ee-LAW) Circular.

Hamown (haw-MOAN) A noise. Tumult. Abundance.

Kheresah (KHE-res-ah) From the word, ‘shining’.

Adaiah (Ah-day-AH) The Lord has adorned.

Tsaraph (Tsaw-RAF) Goldsmith.

Noakh (NO-akh) Rest.

Naomi (No-om-EE) Pleasant.

Miqtar (Mik-TAWR) Something to burn upon a hearth. Incense.

Tuwl (Tool) to cast down, carry away, or reel over.

Taniym (Taw-NEEM) Monster.

IN PERFECT AGREEMENT with Spirit, He, as Creator, merged wisdom and beauty to golden light, refracted as countless flawless gems over this creature’s being, then poured into him complete awareness. This new entity’s dazzling splendor shone to perfection only in the light of his Creator’s own glory. Only then.

For despite this creation’s faultlessness, when put to the test, this shining, praise-bearing paragon would fail. All souls not yet created would fail. Indeed, most would ultimately despise their Creator, blaming Him for the fallen world that their inglorious errant rebellions would soon shape.

Why then should He, the Living One, the Most High, create perfect, sentient beings who would ultimately, by their own vainglorious rebellion, blame Him for their choices, and subject Him and His holy Name to such loathing? Such scorn?

Why wound Spirit and His own heart?

For love.

IN COMPLETE UNDERSTANDING, he, leader of the cherubim, opened his eyes and beheld the seemingly insurmountable heights of the Most High’s throne, its encircling pathway shimmering in a luminous, endlessly clear and brilliant blue sea beneath his bare feet. At the crest of this dazzling path, framed in spectacular green auroras, Glory itself welcomed his new-made presence, surrounding him in absolute justice, power, wisdom, and love. Above all, love.

A sensing poured over him, as did golden oil, vividly fragrant. As anointing oil seeped through his luminous body, his Creator’s Spirit filled his being with elation. Appointing him to his Creator’s service.

Without visible effort, the Most High clad him in golden robes adorned with shimmering gems brilliantly refracting Divine splendor. The same blinding, fearsome splendor compelled him to lift his hands in submissive wonder. Untold spiritual gifts from his Creator welled within him, granting exhilaration. Temporarily unable to stand despite his six enfolding, sustaining wings, he dropped onto the glowing stones, prostrated himself, and worshiped the Most High. Music surrounded him and unfurled within his soul, his entire being vibrant with joy. In multiple voices, he sang praises to the Most High.

As his song’s last notes faded, he perceived his Creator’s expectations. Within these celestial wonders, the Most High’s Spirit urged him to stand and to accept his duties as leader of the cherubim—the multiple-faced, six-winged guardians of all things holy, who shielded and protected the Most High’s sacred precincts, including His throne.

ACCORDING TO HIS ORDAINED role, he led the guardian host of cherubim in effortless music. Choruses of praise welled from his innermost being, his voices and soul soaring above all his comrades, drawing their admiration. In truth, his magnificence surpassed theirs. All acknowledged his superiority in silent acquiescence. He walked among the radiant, gem-garbed princes of the heavens, gathering their praises, and then he climbed the holy throne’s splendid steps, flanked by the fiery gem walls rendering the Most High unapproachable to most on the sacred mount—an honor reserved for the most sanctified.

For him above all the others.

Exultation welled within his being as fresh and joyous as the first instant of his existence when the Spirit anointed him to his high place. Glory illuminating his every movement, perceiving the heavenlies in all four directions, he continued upward to kneel in the perfect place. At the feet of the Most High.

WITH HIS COMRADES AND all the hosts of the heavens, he hovered as witness to his Creator’s new work. Within the boundless realm of darkness below, the Most High willed a shapeless void into existence—a wild, unordered waste. His Spirit descended upon the liquid mass to brood over its surface as if to bestir the fathomless abyss beneath those dark waters.

Enthroned above, the Most High’s voice thrummed through them all, calm and commanding—compelling all to watch. Let there be light.

Light appeared, its brilliance startling, yet so confounding that the cherub narrowed his gaze and studied the new realm. Why was this illuminated void necessary?

The Creator continued, His absorption and delight in His work enfolding them all. The Most High separated the light from its envelope of darkness and named it. Day. To the darkness, he said, Night.

Night and day turned, continually facing each other, paced together in time, within their Creator’s will and His silent covenant. A pause signified the Most High’s designation of the work’s morning and evening completed. Another divine contract commenced, silently binding this new realm into order as surely as all the beings of the host around His throne were governed.

After they’d studied the next dawn, its silent and fascinated witnesses, the Most High spoke again, His joy sending its own music throughout all He had created. Let there be a firmament to divide the waters above from the waters below.

A glowing vault-like formation of water and light curved upward, clear and mighty, sheltering the void of water below. Beneath the luminous vault, a ruddy atmosphere gleamed, radiant as a pink gem. As the firmament encircled the sphere below, the Most High named the luminous curving dome. Sky.

During the new realm’s third day, the Creator commanded, Let the waters below the firmament be gathered in one place. Let dry ground appear.

He named the bare ground. Earth. The praise-filled waters lapping those dry bare edges, he called, Seas.

Would he, as the lead cherubim, soon gather and carry those praises from this new realm below up to the heavens where they all resided?

The Most High commanded the dry ground below to bear grass and seeded green plants, brilliant and verdant. Mature trees yielding perfectly ripened fruit unfurled in glorious colors, each type producing seeds unique to their species. His joy and His will brought the new realm’s warm perfumed sweetness and fresh tang into their midst above. The fragrance drew the anointed cherub’s appreciation and piqued his curiosity yet again. Why?

Why create this new sphere of light and dark, day and night? Why fill it with green plants and fruit trees? Why bring this sweetness into the Lord’s realm? Wasn’t their own iridescent realm complete?

At the next dawning, the fourth day upon the luminous, fragrant sphere began with another Divine command. Let lights in the expanse above the sky be for separating the day from the night. They will be for signs and for seasons ...

Seasons? Another division of time for this life-filled, intuitive and responsive sphere? For what purpose? Might this new realm be a habitat for the angels? A new dominion that he, as the anointed cherub, might rule according to the Most High’s will?

Countless fiery, glittering stars appeared and spiraled outward, lighting all creation in reds, blues, and yellows. And in green, white, and orange hues that drew all their admiring gazes. Nearer the guardians of the heavens, two spheres flared in the vast expanse near the new realm. The greater sun to warm and illuminate the day, the lesser moon to shine in the night, already marked by the expanse’s shimmering, more distant stars and spheres.

The fifth day’s divine command sharpened the guardian’s already-acute senses. Let the waters teem with living creatures and flying creatures soar above the land in the open skies of the firmament. Divine satisfaction and new joy permeating His words, the Most High blessed the creatures of the sea and the skies, commanding them to multiply and fill their new realm.

Dusk and morning passed. Amid the sixth day, the Most High said, Let the earth bring forth living creatures according to their species—beasts of the land, livestock, every creature that crawls ...

The sphere shone like a perfectly polished, many-hued gem, teeming with life—undoubtedly finished. A future delight for the hosts of cherubim to explore.

All the celestial orders of the heavens exulted, the cherubim shouting their elation and praises.

As the anointed cherub reveled in the glorious sights of the life-filled realm below—undoubtedly his future dominion—the Most High’s voice broke his contented reverie into fragments. Let us make humankind in Our image, after Our likeness ... and let them rule ... over the earth ...

The Most High’s words merged withing him as one coherent and appalling realization. This new realm would be given to a yet-unformed creature. Silence fell over the listening celestial throngs, all of them seeming to ponder the anointed cherub’s same unspoken questions. Humankind? A new species of earth. An Ish—called man—in the Creator’s own image?

A man, an Ish, would rule this new realm ...

From the damp, ruddy soil of a riverbank, the Most High fashioned a form of clay, then molded His own likeness into the pliant soil for all to witness. By the Most High’s will, the creature’s spiraling life-sequence wove itself into this clay being, crafting a heart, veins, internals, and a brain enveloped by inanimate brown flesh. Dark curls and wide dark eyes finished this creature of clay.

The Most High breathed into this clay His breath, imbued with life from the Spirit. As Creator, He fashioned a sumptuous garden in the lands below, which blossomed with vivid colors and teemed with intriguing creatures joyously alive. Into this garden, He placed this sculpture of His own image. The Ish. That Adawm.

A sentient Spirit-breathed figure of red-brown dirt, without a servant’s wings, would command this new realm. Why?

Worse, he—the anointed cherub—and his cherubim and kindred angels must clearly become servants and guardians to that creature of dirt. Again, why? This puny clay creature would prove completely unworthy.

To his vast multitude of lesser comrades, the anointed cherub said, How glorious you all are, compared to him. Unlike him, we are of the heavens, above one of clay.

Those who revered him clearly agreed. Their myriad gazes followed his, joining him in perpetual watch as his own loyal troupe.

Nevertheless, submitting as commanded, he’d fulfill his role. Leading his obedient troupe, he descended to the newmade realm to gather the clay creature’s praises of the Most High and convey them to the throne upon the holy mountain.

ADAWM. ISH ... The man, Adawm, woke to the beckoning words. To the sweetness of breath and life singing through his body and soul—his first breath called upon the Name he would speak forever—the Living One. He opened his eyes and recognized his Creator’s radiant face. Perceiving the Most High’s transparent joy, the man smiled, sharing His exhilaration.

Kinship with his Creator—a and gratitude above all—lit his understanding. The Creator poured into his thoughts, images, and unspoken comprehension of who Adawm was and where he was. He raised his hands, illuminated by his Creator’s presence and exhaled his delight. Most High, thank You!

Light bathed him and enfolded him, clothing his limbs in splendor from the Most High’s own will. How he managed to stand and walk at his Creator’s urging, he scarcely knew. Yet he understood where he’d been placed. Adan. His verdant garden-home.

The garden—indeed, the entire earth—welcomed him as its keeper with deliciously mingled fragrances, vibrant colors, a rushing, flowing river, and other creatures all exuberant with life. Creatures so unlike him that he stared, admiring and contemplating their curiosity-invoking differences. He wanted to study each one. How extraordinary ... these creatures ... their wings, bright eyes, talons, shimmering furred coats...

His amazement clearly pleased his Creator, who walked with him through the lush, sweet-scented grasses. His Creator, whose Spirit encouraged him to explore his garden, to play, to marvel and celebrate his new domain.

The Creator commanded him to rule all the creatures of the sea, the air, and the land. All the inviting, sweet-scented fruit trees were his to harvest and to eat. Except one.

The tree of knowledge of good and evil.

The Creator halted Adawm and then lifted His hand against this particular tree’s plump, deep violet fruit, which glowed with iridescence despite the fruit’s dark flesh.

...for when you eat of it, you will most certainly die!

The significance of die poured into his consciousness as if the Most High had woven his thoughts into the future, providing foretastes of death’s full meaning. He saw his body’s fading light. His corpse’s appalling stillness, coldness, and the removal of his conscious existence upon earth. No, he didn’t want to die. Not when he’d just been granted life in this perfect place—this Adan, given to him by the Most High.

Here in Adan, no matter which way he turned, he belonged. To his Creator, to Adan, to the earth, and to the magnificent animals the Most High called to him to offer humankind obeisance.

He, as the first human, named them according to their characteristics, then laughed as they raced through their vast garden’s flowering green fields and woods, celebrating life beneath the roseate sky.

For as long as he drew breath and walked alongside his Creator, whose face his reflected, there could be no other place for him. Ever.

ACCOMPANIED BY INNUMERABLE comrades from the celestial host, the anointed cherub descended yet again to the sphere and lingered to study the earthly realm, which exhaled the Living One’s praises, as the man continually breathed his Creator’s name in thanksgiving.

How strange to wander the man’s domain and see the foolish clay figure’s newly named creatures—some bearing cherubim attributes, such as their own ever-shifting faces in their singular forms—reflected in the man’s face, as well as a lion’s face and an eagle’s keen visage. Bulls—another facial variant among the cherubim—also roamed this garden. Among the cherubim, however, the anointed cherub boasted his own golden flawless mask-like face, which shifted to other cherubim forms at his will.

He also noted variants of his mighty wings set upon birds and other creatures that soared in the ruddy-gold skies above the blissful, vegetation-blanketed earth.

Weren’t these repeated physical attributes proof that this new realm should have been his?

He was more glorious than puny man. That Ish. Any of the celestial beings were more glorious! He murmured the thought among his followers and watched it spread like a wave in the mighty waters framing earth’s lands. When his grumbling made his celestial comrades shift in subtle agreement, he allowed his thoughts to range further. By the time he and his comrades ascended to lay the new realm’s fully gathered praises at the Creator’s feet, his plans widened. He’d claim the earth.

He’d persuade the Most High to agree to some legality, because the Most High honored contracts. There must be some technicality by which the man would forfeit his rights to the earth, and Adan. Then the Most High would consent. Presuming that the Most High had regathered His dignity after displaying such heedless joy while creating the world below.

The cherub offered the startling thought to his many followers, and they quietly drank it in like water from the eternal river flowing beneath their Creator’s throne. Had the Most High fallen from His own state of dignity while creating the earth and man?

Unspoken acquiescence answered the anointed cherub in his follower’s glances and their bowed heads. Without a word, they’d pledged their future subservience to him as their leader. Implacably, he’d swayed their allegiance toward him with praise of their personal magnificence, and reminders of his own.

Indeed, his own glory and wisdom merited inclusion in the Divine comradeship. He deserved to sit with the eternal Us, who’d created man in His image with the breath of their Spirit, by their own Word. Didn’t his perfection rival theirs? He would surpass the Most High!

He’d ascend to heaven. He’d raise his own throne above the stars of God. He would sit enthroned on the mount of assembly. He’d rule from the utmost heights of the sacred mountain.

Without effort, he willed himself and his followers to soar above the earth. Into the holiest of heavens to confront their Creator.

I will go up above the highest heavens’ clouds. He placed his bare feet upon the holy, fiery path of stones leading up to His glorious throne. An undeniable thought took hold as he—perfect above all here—smiled up at his Creator. I will make myself as the Most High!

Even as the superb impulse played out through his lift of his chin, the weight of his Creator’s gaze pressed upon him, His insight measuring and sifting the guardian’s thoughts into fragments within a flash of His own reflected light.

Within that instant, light and power converged and flung away the cherub, alongside his allies, who’d admired his reflected glory. As one mass, they were thrown out of the Most High’s presence in a down-surging bolt of light.

They’d no chance to blink. Much less to defend themselves, nor offer a dazzling fight.

He and his followers fell, helpless against the force cast by ... whom? The Most High? The all-powerful Word? Or their Spirit? Their entire Divine Self....

Momentum swept him from holiest heaven’s sacred paths, through the starry expanse, and then downward. His comrades raged and bellowed, falling with him.

In ignominious disgraceful helplessness, they caught fire within the earth’s firmament, and the horrifyingly spectacular path of their downfall flared ever wider, marking the arc of his failure. All creation witnessed their landing. Their impact upon earth left blazing furrowed scars and deep-pocked craters, befouling the pristine landscape. Yet the flames swiftly died in the damp soil and vegetation.

Unlike their immortal forms.

He stood, fury-heated. Seared by the Most High’s effortless rebuke. Lust for vengeance poured through his limbs, lending him strength. His enraged, humiliated followers regrouped around him, their fading glory tarnishing as he watched, all dulled by their separation from the Most High’s ever-dazzling presence.

Before his lesser comrades could think to accuse him, or denounce him, he told them what they most wanted to hear, and what he intended to bring to fruition. We will make this earth our own, legally, as we repay the Most High for casting us away!

It was, of course, the perfect thing to say.

They followed him as tamely as any of earth’s creatures followed their puny man.

STARS STREAKED FIERY roaring paths from the sky at dawn, waking Adawm. Falling stars? What would cause the stars to fall? Adawm watched their glorious descents etching the firmament’s crimson-violet borders with such fire that he had to squint to watch.

Beyond question, the spectacular happenstance fell within their Creator’s sight and will. Certainly, He knew what had happened. Adawm marveled at the spectacle, then shook off sleep’s lingering lethargy.

After dawn, as commanded, Adawm tended the animals, herding the smaller hoofed grazers toward the fields beyond the fruit trees, then eyeing the pairs of young, long-necked grazers who lingered and nudged their own paths between the trees. The large, brown-spotted pair of short-furred beasts, each crowned with furry ossicones, gave him stubborn looks, then nipped at leaves and various fruits in the nearest trees. The second, taller pair of grazers, long-necked and leathern, continued to feast, clamping their short wide jaws around the highest fringes of branches and stripping off the fan-shaped leaves and small golden-red fruits, then scattering much of their gleanings while they chewed. Some of the fruits fell at Adawm’s feet, small, ruddy, and round. He started to test one, but the fruit’s rank, fetid odor made him gag. He flung it toward the tallest grazer’s feet. Undoubtedly, the Most High had created the awful fruit to suit the grazers’ own peculiar tastes. Ugh! Don’t worry—I won’t take them from you!

The beast would have been amused had it been human like him. Yet it wasn’t human. None of the marvelous creatures were like him—laughing, curious, mostly bare skinned, and crowned with soft dark hair that grew longest on his head, then mildly bristling along his jaw. Furthermore, the few pairs of exceedingly furry creatures boasting hands similar to his own weren’t articulate. Indeed, they seemed interested in Adawm only if he offered them anything resembling food.

The canines who followed him, also for food, were the most sociable creatures, but four-legged and unable to carry on conversations. Primates vocalized and mimicked him to a degree, but usually lapsed into play or grooming each other or, annoyingly, grooming him.  Discussing the implications of his own existence and theirs would always be a one-sided conversation.

One creature, the extraordinary red-scaled nachash, the serpent with its glinting wreath of delicate horns and sheer webbing above its shoulders, sometimes vocalized and seemed intuitive, but held back from Adawm, seeming satisfied by its own crimson-gold iridescent splendor—so self-satisfied, in fact, that it usually wandered away from its less showy mate.

Insects, of course, weren’t capable of discussing all the mysteries and delights of the garden, nor the Most High’s overwhelming glory. They flew away at the slightest breath. Birds were better, because they sang. The garden brimmed with pleasing, soul-lifting birds’ songs. Yet none of these creatures matched him in habits, intellect, and the need to discuss his world’s wonders and their Creator’s extraordinary works.

It would seem ungrateful to Most High if he, merely Ish, spoke of needing more than he’d been given. Therefore, he’d remain silent. Though he sometimes brooded and then talked to himself or to any of the creatures around him—not that they understood.

The Most High certainly understood him, though Adawm usually squandered their early evening walks by talking more than listening, just for the sake of being able to talk with the one articulate Being capable of answering his observations and questions.

His Creator replied with genial questions for Adawm. Had he noticed the grand lizards’ appetite and continued growth? Had the nachash, the splendid serpent, attempted to speak to him? What tools had Adawm made that day? What had he studied and concluded concerning time’s orderly movements of the sun, moon, and stars?

More often, the Most High seemed content to listen, and to simply share his company—smiling, the stars reflecting in His joyful gaze whenever Adawm thanked and praised Him for another newly-discovered marvel among Adan’s flora and fauna.

On this day, Adawm prepared himself for more questions. Yet when the Most High appeared, glowing with perfect life and accompanied by the ever-present Word and Spirit, He asked nothing of Adawm. Instead, after their initial greetings, He rested one hand on Adawm’s shoulder, then poured over him an irresistible tide of blissful fatigue.

Adawm sank onto the nearest patch of fresh, verdant grasses and closed his eyes.

THE FORMER ANOINTED guardian cherub returned to the Garden of Adan, drawn—infuriatingly—by His presence. And by the sublime fragrance and harmonious beauty of the place he should have ruled. Including the Ish. That Adawm.

The Most High didn’t cast him away a second time, though He clearly perceived the formerly anointed cherub’s presence. A silent, unseen barrier prevented him from drawing near to watch his Maker’s latest creation.

From the sleeping man, the Most High withdrew one of the smaller ribs from his opened side, then sealed the creature’s flesh again. The smaller rib, He took to a separate clearing. There, He summoned the man’s spiraling life-sequence from the rib, then enclosed both the sequence and the rib within a smaller form similar to the man’s. The spiraling life-sequence wove its shimmering way throughout this new clay being, forming its heart, veins, internals, and brain enveloped by the inanimate brown clay. Dark curls and wide dark eyes also finished this second creature of clay. Much the same, reflecting the Most High’s appearance, yet different.

Smaller frame. Smaller hands and feet. Curving breasts, hips, and thighs. The hair on this one’s head grew longer, the skin appeared softer and even more luminous, the mouth fuller, the smooth jawline more delicate, yet no less human than the first clay-formed man.

Humankind’s first female.

Her first breath also drew from the Most High’s own Spirit—an undeserved honor, proof of their Creator’s weakness. Her first call to life came from the Word Himself. Clothed in light from His being, she held, then exhaled His breath. Opening her sparkling dark eyes, the exquisite female gazed up at the Most High and smiled, just before she prostrated