She had nothing left to lose because she was nothing to begin with.
Placing the mirror in its sack, she handed it back to Simon, who quickly stashed it away.
“I am Lilith, and I’m ready,” she announced. “I won’t be coming back.”
Sixteen
* * *
THE FALL
“Where are we?” Lilith whispered to Han-el, though no one else could hear them.
“Inside Eden, near the center. Look,”—the Singer pointed a short distance toward three figures moving through the grass—“the one who is now two approaches, and with them is the serpent.”
“What’s that snake doing here?” she asked, but realized the answer. “Adam’s invitation?”
Han-el did not have to respond. As they approached, Lilith observed them closely, Eve especially. The young woman walked next to Adam confidently, slightly taller and darker than he, slim, fine-boned, and noble in her bearing. She too was naked except for the transparent light that was more like a glowing breeze billowing and cascading around her, attending every step and movement. The man looked hardly older, but his expression lacked presence. Even when he smiled, a hint of sadness tinged his eyes. Lilith had seen the same look in John’s eyes too, but John was not Adam.
“Han-el, one day you will be a Guardian.”
“That would be an honor beyond all imagining. I hope that it will be you I serve.”
“It won’t be me, but someone who is . . . worthy!” She surprised herself by referring to John that way, but in the moment it felt true, despite Simon’s assertions.
Adam wasn’t returning the attention of the young woman, who obviously adored him. Eve had asked a question but Adam either did not hear or was purposely ignoring her. She repeated it but could not engage him until she touched him on the shoulder.
The serpent seemed larger today. It glided across the ground as if not even touching. Suddenly it stopped and swift as lightning disappeared into the forest. A moment later it reappeared directly in front of Lilith.
Han-el stepped forward but she motioned him away and held her ground as it approached. It wore a crown she had not seen before, with settings for twelve jewels, but Lilith could see that three of them were missing.
“Your crown?” she asked. “It doesn’t suit you.”
“A gift from Adam, for serving his dominion.”
Swaying back and forth, inches away, it scanned her top to bottom. The venom that burned within her responded to its presence, pulsating under her skin. Then it spoke.
“You don’t belong here,” it hissed.
“You don’t either,” she challenged.
“I am here by Adam’s invitation and he is king of all creation, son of God. You are one of Adam’s kind, the right place but wrong time. Who are you and why are you here?”
“My name is Lilith, but I am no one. No one is here to stop you.”
“Riddles?” The serpent reared, then dropped toward her again. “Listen, little one, be careful where you step, and do not interfere.”
“Is that a threat?” She moved even closer.
“Not to you. You matter not at all.”
“I have nothing to lose,” retorted Lilith. “What can you take from me that has not already been stolen?”
“That matters not to me. I have no need of anything from you. You are nothing and no one.” With those words, the creature darted away, appearing once again behind Adam and Eve. The two had stopped at the edge of a meadow.
“Take me there,” she said to Han-el. “I need to hear what they are saying.”
Instantly she was standing feet away from the three, who were looking at a fig tree heavy with its fruit. The serpent looked straight at Lilith but spoke to Eve.
“Isha, did God speak directly to you and tell you, ‘You shall not eat of every tree of the garden?’ ”
The question surprised Eve, and she glanced at Adam. Lilith knew from John’s reading that the conversation with God had been not hers but Adam’s. His gesture indicated she should answer.
“We may eat from the fruit of all the trees but this one standing in the middle of the garden.” She tilted her head toward it. “Of this one God has said, ‘You shall not eat from it, or touch it, or you will die.’ ”
Adam nodded his assent, saying nothing. She smiled too, completely satisfied with her answer. After all, it was exactly as Adam had taught her.
“You surely will not die!” the snake declared.
Eve’s eyes widened.
What a stunning thing to say, Lilith thought. This was not a covert insinuation made by this beast, but an overt and bold accusation against God’s goodness. This thing had called God a liar?
Eve looked again to Adam, this time troubled and confused, as if expecting him to set this serpent straight. But he did not. Instead he stood in silence. Eve looked to the ground. In doing so, she missed the silent nod between Adam and the creature.
The serpent gave full voice to the darkness Adam had been hiding. “For God knows that in the day you eat from it, your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, determining good and evil.”
Was this true? Lilith was uncertain. This was not what she remembered in the Scriptures John had read. Perhaps she hadn’t understood.
Again Adam stood silent and unmoving, waiting for Eve’s response. She looked from one to the other and finally to the tree, bursting with its fruit.
Reaching out to stop Eve, Lilith felt Han-el’s hand on her shoulder.
“You are here to witness,” the Singer sang quietly in a minor key.
Lilith drew back confused, watching helplessly. Slowly walking toward the tree, Eve also faltered, as if grappling with an inner discordant clash of warning and desire, and Lilith could sense the war that raged within her.
Hadn’t God made all the trees pleasing to the sight? Hadn’t God declared them good to eat? Perhaps they had all misunderstood.
Adam followed Eve, and encouraged by this, she kept moving. The tree was lovely and alluring, offering the promise of sweet taste, but even more it seemed a shorter path to good longings and desires.
Lilith could feel it. How could the passion to be as God be anything but good? Was this not their destiny: to determine good and evil, to be powerful and wise? Here was an easy way to prove their worthiness, fulfill the purposes of God, and take their rightful dominion over all creation.
How beautiful, this heart’s desire to be like God.
Eve hesitantly extended fingers until they barely skimmed the surface of the fruit, and then quickly pulled back. Nothing happened. The serpent had told the truth. There was no death in touching.
Again she reached, but this time grasped the fig tight and plucked it from its branch. Lilith smelled a potent sweetness as Eve broke open the lovely fruit in her hands. She offered it to Adam, but he declined, so she would taste it first. Slowly raising it to her mouth, she bit into it, chewed, and swallowed. She then held out the other half to Adam, who likewise bit and ate.
Eve grinned and laughed as the pulpy fruit dripped down his chin, but a moment later she placed a hand over her stomach. Her eyes were glazed with fear. Adam did the same and winced. What had been sweet in their mouths was bitter in their bellies.
They had eaten the forbidden fruit. Instead of trusting, they had transgressed, with death the consequence of choosing.
They seemed to know it too. The transparent light that had clothed them vanished and both were utterly exposed. Large tears rolled down Eve’s face as she crumpled to the earth. Adam put a hand on her shoulder and she flinched. He leaned and begged, “Isha. Don’t you see? It is done, and our dominion has begun. We have cut the cords that bound us to ignorance and dependence. How could we have dominion without knowing good and evil? We are now like God and this freedom is the good.”
As Eve looked away, furious and ashamed, Lilith covered her mouth, the sense of grief unbearable. Everything was wrong and hopeless.
“It is not good to be uncovere
d and unprotected,” Adam stated, leaving Eve groaning on the ground. He soon returned with his blade. When Lilith saw Machiara, she gasped and Eve recoiled, afraid. Adam ignored her as he began cutting down the lowest branches, handing them to her. Without a word Eve began stripping off and interlacing leaves. Her tears flowed as together they wove coverings to hide their shame.
“We may have been abandoned but we are no longer foolish,” Adam finally spoke. Eve said nothing. For a time they sat against the tree, in silence, staring holes into the dirt. Adam turned his dagger over and over in his hands, frowning.
“Wait here,” he said, standing. “I will be back.” Then he crossed the clearing and disappeared into the woods. Eve did not watch him go.
When Lilith took a step to comfort the young woman, the serpent hissed a warning and Han-el moved to a place between them. The venom pulsing through her body reminded her of its potency, and she relented.
A long time later Adam returned and slumped down next to Eve. He was panting heavily, sweating, and was covered in what looked like blood.
Eve jumped up concerned. “What happened?”
“I tried to make it right, Isha.” His chest and arms were lacerated, the knife still clutched in one hand and bloody to the hilt.
“You tried to make it right? Where did you go? Is this your blood?”
“No!” he exclaimed, still gasping. “This is not my blood. I went to destroy that little Tree of Life.”
“Have you completely left yourself? Why would you do that?” She was outraged.
“Isha, it stands as a temptation. We don’t need that weak and fragile tree for life, nor any fruit it produces. I tried to pull it out of the ground but couldn’t!” He exploded, an edge of bitter resignation in his voice. “So I stripped it of its foliage and clustered fruit. I left it naked with two stunted branches, one on either side.”
“What possessed you to do that? It is the Tree of Life! If there is any hope for us—”
“This”—he banged his head back against the trunk in frustration—“is our Tree of Life, our hope, too massive to destroy. Its fruit and seeds are planted deep within us.”
Eve closed her eyes and gasped as if straining to breathe, her hand at her throat. She finally found the words, “Adam, what is this blood?”
“That worthless tree belongs to God, who is coming soon to kill us. I thought by offering the Tree of Life another’s death to take our place, its blood might cover our transgression,” Adam confessed.
“What have you done?” she screamed at him. “Whose blood is this?”
He clamped his hand over her mouth to silence her. “Hush!” he commanded, dismay in his eyes. “Listen!”
Lilith too could hear the sound approaching and it also filled her with a sense of dread.
Adonai and Elohim were walking toward them within the Ruach. What so recently had been a rushing wind of affection now sounded like a fiery raging tempest. Terrified, they climbed into the tree.
“They are hiding their disobedience, ashamed of being found.” Han-el sang his grief to Lilith. “They are trying to disappear by blending into Good and Evil.”
But it was not a terror who pursued them, it was a broken heart. And it was not fury and outrage in the Wind, but a plaintive melody. Standing at the clearing’s edge, Elohim and Adonai called from inside the wind of Ruach, “Adam! Where are you?”
• • •
THE SHOUT CAME FROM the Vault, causing John to tumble from his bed. “Something is wrong with the Witness. Help!”
John quickly found his bearings and clothing and sprinted to the Vault, where he was stunned by the scene before him. Lilly lay thrashing in the Chamber of Witness, seizures racking her body. Her empty chair, reclined as a bed, was flush with the sofa as if she had rolled herself over. Turning her on her side, John used his finger to gently clear her airway of saliva and vomit. Gerald and Anita rushed in a moment later.
Simon paced. “I came to check something in the Study and heard noises, and this is where I found her. I didn’t know what to do. I’m not trained to deal with anything like this.”
“Hush, Simon,” Anita told him. “Thank God you were close enough to hear. Another minute and . . . well, it wouldn’t have been good.”
“She is burning up,” John muttered, as Simon withdrew to the perimeter of the room. Anger and fear tumbled inside John’s chest. “What was she thinking coming down here by herself?”
“Do you think we should move her?” asked Anita, “She is going to need expert attention, someone you trust with access to the Vault.”
“The quickest way to get help for her would be to transport her to the surface through the Map Room,” he asserted. “We have to do something or Lilly is not going to survive this.”
The decision was made, they lifted her back onto her bed and hurried to the Map Room. John barked orders to the others.
“Anita, Gerald, would you gather up our things before you return to the surface, including Lilly’s, mine, and Simon’s?”
“I can do that,” offered Simon. “Being shifted to another place rather terrifies me—”
“No, I want you with me. I might need your youth and strength. We understand the Refuge has been breached but we still have no idea what that means yet.” The matter was settled, though Simon didn’t look pleased.
“Gerald, you and Anita, when you are ready, hold our things and each take one of these triangles and touch this spot on the map. Don’t worry about finding a receptacle, they will return here on their own after ten minutes. None of us will be back soon regardless.”
They scuttled off, and John approached a console at the side of the map and began entering something onto the screen.
“What are you doing?” entreated Simon. “We don’t have time and need to go now!”
“One moment and I am done. I’m notifying the Healers and changing entrance codes for the Vault. We can’t be too careful, can we?”
Something about Simon’s discovery of Lilly and his reluctance to leave had unsettled John, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. “You first, Simon. We’ll be right behind you.”
Simon took a triangle. “Touch here,” instructed John, and when he did, the Scholar vanished.
“I’d rather have sent you to another planet,” John grunted, placing a triangle in Lilly’s hand and touching his and hers to the map.
When he blinked, they were back to the surface, in the room where Lilly had spent so many months under repair. Letty was already there with Healers and Menders. There was nothing more for the men to do. Simon excused himself and John watched him go. Before John left, he prayed for Lilly. And he prayed for wisdom.
• • •
A CHILL RAN THROUGH Lilith’s body as if from the inside out, but she ignored it.
“Adam, where are you?” It was a forlorn cry and invitation, but even Lilith knew it sounded like impending doom to the humiliated man and woman. The wind began to rustle through the branches of Adam’s tree and then through the leaves that clothed him, and Lilith knew, as they did too, that no one could hide from this God.
Adam, climbing down, chose to take his stand next to the serpent, as if it offered him protection. Eve emerged, dropped to her knees, and bowed in broken glory as tears of confusion and grief continued to cascade.
Adam scrambled to distance himself from his choices, but even in his telling there was insinuation.
“I hid myself, because I heard the sound of You in the garden. I was naked and unprotected and afraid of Your presence, so I hid.”
Eternal Man spoke, His question full of a parent’s tender love. “Who told you that you are naked?” He reached out, but Adam backed away.
It was another invitation to turn again toward Love, but silence was Adam’s shelter.
“Adam, have you eaten from the tree of which We told you not to eat?” Again, the voice was gentle and welcoming, an offer of relationship and reconciliation. But Adam reacted in defensive outrage.
He p
ointed his finger at Adonai’s face. “The woman whom You put here with me, she gave me from the tree! I ate!”
The indictment hung thick in the air. Man had become the judge of God, had declared God evil in action and intention. But this blatant charge also finally unmasked the darkness of Adam’s turning and uncovered his earlier expression through the serpent. His proud, self-justified rebellion was exposed.
And in his charge against God, the woman heard it too: the same voice of accusation as the serpent, the source of her confusion. Eve understood. She had been betrayed and now was being blamed by Adam for what he had conceived in his own heart.
Lilith was furious but frozen in the moment, helpless to do anything but listen and fume. How could Eve have been so naïve as to entrust her heart to Adam? And how could Adam turn against his greatest joy and make her take the fall?
God did not respond in kind. Adonai spoke no denunciation or condemnation. Instead He turned and offered His hands to Eve. “What is this you have done?” He asked without recrimination.
She looked at Adam, her face a flame of fury, as he stood with folded arms beside his guardian serpent. Turning her face to God, she stretched out her hands and accepted His, drew His palms to her face and, weeping, kissed them. Looking fully into Adonai’s eyes, she told the wrenching truth: “The serpent deceived me. I ate!”
God kissed her forehead, acknowledging her confession, and then turned to confront the serpent. It withdrew. Its scales mirrored the Fire and Wind of God’s presence, the nine stones of its crown also reflecting brilliant light.
Inches from the creature’s head, Eternal Man made a declaration, not only to this creature, but to all the dark forces of Adam’s turning that this serpent would ever embolden and empower.
“Because you have done this to the woman, I am snaring you, and binding you unlike any other beast in all creation. Your existence will be bowing on your belly as you feed from the dust of death, the dust of this man’s turning.”
Eve Page 18