Chapter 34: Spouse
Eden is situated to the east of the Celestial Sun; spanning a thousand *qing* in area, the garden encompasses mountains, waters, birds, and beasts. The entire grounds possess but a single entrance, while on all sides, they are encircled by a verdant enclosure.
Within this enclosure lies a dense, impenetrable forest, through which starlings occasionally dart—a rustling, fluttering flock.
In this world of pure, sanctified white, this alone is a place teeming with vibrant life—yet it strikes no discordant note.
This is God's doing; without His permission and the blessing of His divine power, the strength of angels alone could never sustain such a lifelike, earthly garden floating amidst the clouds.
The firm, solid ground beneath their feet offered a tactile sensation distinct from that of treading upon clouds; both God and the Arch-Seraph—as if by unspoken mutual consent—chose to proceed on foot. Lucifer walked behind God, his pale-blue eyes fixed upon the figure ahead—God Himself—shrouded in a soft, ethereal holy light; the expression in Lucifer's eyes remained inscrutable.
Upon his hands, the warmth of God's touch still lingered—a warmth slightly cooler than his own, akin to the cool, smooth touch of mutton-fat jade.
This sensation—cool yet warm—prompted a fleeting thought: if he were to hold on just a moment longer, would that touch eventually take on the very same temperature as his own?
"It would not."
God's voice carried a note of amusement. Lucifer flushed with embarrassment, his face turning crimson as he humbly begged forgiveness; thereafter, he dared not let his mind wander into such fanciful thoughts again.
As they passed through the dense, leafy forest and ascended the hillside, they paused beneath the towering canopy of trees to gaze down upon the entirety of Eden. For the very first time, this miniature world—this microcosm—seemed to truly come alive before their eyes.
"That is the Pishon River," God said, pointing toward a waterway winding below; in His eyes, a look of approbation shone through. "Raphael has done well."
Here lay the true art of beauty: a river—its banks adorned with pearls and golden sands—winding gracefully through the landscape. Its sacred waters branched into four distinct streams, flowing gently toward the four cardinal directions, tenderly nourishing the entire garden. The firs and pines in the woods remained evergreen, and the groves were studded with vividly colored fruits—both the blossoms and the fruit were of a rare, golden hue seldom seen in the mortal realm. Descending the hillside in a different direction and venturing deeper into the grounds, they began to encounter an increasing number of living creatures: jackals, tigers, leopards, sheep, lions, serpents, and stags—all imbued with a divine nature, so docile that they scarcely resembled wild beasts.
They bounded through the woods, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow amidst the fallen leaves.
Suddenly, Lucifer realized something.
Although this place was far more magnificent than the mortal realm—although everything within it surpassed the beauty of anything on Earth—and although its splendor was such that it nearly made him forget he was in Heaven...
He realized it nonetheless.
Eden was a microcosm of the mortal realm.
By placing Adam here, did God intend for humanity to take the place of the elves of old?
He pursed his lips, striving to smooth away the faint smile that had begun to curl at their corners. Once he was certain that God harbored no intention of keeping humanity in Heaven permanently, all matters concerning mankind suddenly seemed utterly trivial.
Why had God created only a single human being? Was this human the Messiah? Why had God punished the angels for the sake of this one human? All the questions he had endlessly pondered suddenly seemed to lose their significance.
This was Paradise.
He watched as God, beneath the trees, accepted a floral wreath presented by an antelope. Though he could not see His face, for a fleeting moment, Lucifer felt that the Deity—standing there, looking somewhat bewildered while holding the wreath—seemed incredibly gentle.
It was not the condescending tolerance of a Creator toward His creation, nor was it merely the filial reverence for the Heavenly Father that was etched into his very bones.
Lucifer watched—amidst the interplay of light and shadow—as the Deity, having failed to communicate with the antelope, resignedly placed the floral crown upon His head; and deep within his heart, something stirred involuntarily.
The air all around was fresh and pure; a gentle breeze drifted through, sweeping away every trace of sorrow.
There, within the confines of Paradise, he offered a silent prayer: *May these days remain tranquil; may this world endure forever.*
God received the Archangel's prayer; He cast a glance in Lucifer's direction, and a smile rippled through His golden eyes. "Luci, come here."
Under the watchful gaze of the animals, God removed the floral wreath from His own head and placed it upon the head of the Arch-Seraph. The pale green olive wreath, adorned with clusters of white blossoms, looked exquisitely fitting against the Seraph's gilded hair.
God's heartfelt compliment caused the Arch-Seraph to pause in his motion to remove the crown. Only the cherubim were fond of wearing floral crowns; yet, if God took pleasure in it, then wearing it a little longer could do no harm—he could simply take it off once they had left the garden.
God declined the second wreath offered by an antelope, and then, beneath the creature's crestfallen gaze, continued deeper into the Garden of Eden alongside the Arch-Seraph.
"Of all that I have created, the sheep are surely the most gentle," God remarked to Lucifer. Lucifer was unsurprised that God harbored certain preferences; yet, if there were things God favored, there must inevitably be things He did not. Thus, he asked God what it was that He disliked.
"There is nothing that I dislike," God replied. "It is merely that, among all My creations, the serpent alone possesses a nature that is cunning and treacherous."
*Hmm—and does that not amount to disliking serpents?*
The mind of God was inscrutable; if God insisted that He did not dislike serpents, then so be it. Lucifer curled the corners of his lips into a faint smile, gazing with serene pleasure at the scenery surrounding them.
The natural treasures within the Garden of Eden far surpassed those of any realm in the mortal world. God walked and paused by turns, occasionally answering the Arch-Seraph's questions, until they arrived at the very heart of the grove, amidst a multitude of trees.
The towering Tree of Life and the Tree of Knowledge stood side by side, intertwined. Gazing up at these two colossal trees, God came to a halt.
"They ought not to be here," God declared.
Lucifer was perplexed; it had been he who had instructed Beelzebub to transplant these two trees into the Garden of Eden. Since Adam's intellect had yet to awaken, Lucifer had assumed that God had simply forgotten about the trees; evidently, however, he had been mistaken.
"Why does God not bestow wisdom upon Adam?"
"If Man were to gain wisdom, he would surely die," God replied, casting a cold, piercing gaze upon the Tree of Knowledge. He spoke no further, appearing to be lost in deep contemplation. Lucifer's heart gave a start, and he hurriedly asked, "In that case, should the Tree of Life and the Tree of Knowledge be moved elsewhere?"
God reached out and laid His hand upon the trunk of the tree; after a moment, He shook His head.
"There is no need." The Tree of Life and the Tree of Knowledge, having grown fond of the scenic charm of the Garden of Eden, had already taken firm root in the soil. "They, too, rejoice in growing upon this land."
He turned His gaze toward Lucifer, who was consumed by self-reproach. "You need not blame yourself; I have simply instructed Adam not to partake of it—that is all."
They lingered briefly in the center of the garden before returning to the High Heavens; yet, the journey back was not nearly as pleasant or lighthearted as their time spent within the garden.
Lucifer could not fathom God's decree—that the acquisition of wisdom would spell death for mankind—but God, for His part, found His thoughts drifting to Adam, whom He had left behind in the Grand Cathedral.
"Father," the human had asked Him before they departed, his expression tinged with bewilderment, "the angels have countless companions of their own kind; why, then, is Adam left with only Adam?"
With an innocence both guileless and direct, the human had laid bare before Him his loneliness and his desires. God had originally entertained the notion of creating a mother for mankind; yet, Adam's nature was such that his character was destined to undergo a period of tempering. God had chosen to keep him within the High Heavens, never imagining that the longing for a companion would take root in his heart so swiftly.
Yet, this longing differed from what God had originally anticipated. Unlike the rest of Creation—where every creature kept to its own kind, and the boundaries between them remained distinct and absolute—Adam was an exception.
Angels had ever sought the company of angels alone; Elves confided only in fellow Elves; and Demons found true ease and camaraderie only among their own kind.
Adam, however, was not of this mold; deep within his heart, God perceived the faint reflection of an Angel of the Throne.
Within his heart, the yearning for the companionship of an angel outweighed even his desire for a companion of his own species.
"Lucifer," God spoke, "I intend to seek out a suitable mate for Adam from among the ranks of the angels."
Lucifer was utterly stunned by this sudden, unexpected pronouncement from God; he felt as though his very soul had been shaken loose from his body, and for a moment, he wondered if his ears had deceived him.
Yet, he swiftly regained his composure.
Giving way to panic would resolve nothing; God's intentions were matters one could only ever surmise, never presume to judge with certainty.
"Upon which angel, then, has the Divine Will settled?" he inquired.
"Lilith."
God called to mind the Angel of Power—the very one who had once sought permission to install luminous mineral crystals within the Grand Cathedral. She was a virtuous angel; indeed, she would make a most fitting mother for mankind. To simply select a pure angel might well be preferable to creating yet another "Mother of Humanity" out of clay—a being destined to be riddled with sin.
The more God contemplated this, the more excellent it seemed; thus, He spoke to Lucifer:
"Adam holds a strong fondness for Lilith, and Lilith has likewise spoken up in Adam's defense; they would make a most suitable pair of companions."
Lucifer, however, did not see it that way.
"That would be improper!" He felt stifled—choking on God's arbitrary matchmaking.
To have selected an angel so swiftly—this was clearly not what God had meant by His so-called "desire to choose a suitable mate for humanity"!
This was, in truth, a decision already made—a specific individual already singled out by name.
How utterly innocent was Lilith!
"And why, pray tell, is it improper?"
"It is merely that... Lucifer finds it somewhat... sudden." Unable to conjure a more fitting objection, he could only ask, "Why, all of a sudden, does God seek a mate for Adam?"
"Humanity is born of sin; they are, by nature, imperfect beings," God explained, having perceived the Seraph's reluctance. "Adam's heart is not yet whole; thus, he yearns for companionship."
Lucifer could not accept this rationale. Just because a human was incomplete—because Adam lacked a companion—was God simply going to drag an angel into the role?
"If he is indeed incomplete, why does God not simply create another human being to keep him company?"
"I have no desire to repeat the mistakes made with the Elves," God replied, fixing His gaze upon Lucifer. "If humans and angels are to be mutually interdependent, then their existence may endure for all time."
That single sentence from God brought a stinging to Lucifer's eyes. God sought to achieve harmony between humanity and the angels—yet He intended to do so at the cost of the angels themselves.
"But... Lilith..." he spoke with great difficulty. "Are angels not meant to remain chaste?"
"Adam's nature is guileless; he harbors no instinct for procreation," God stated dispassionately. "Should he ever awaken to such desires, he would no longer be permitted to remain in Heaven."
Lucifer's heart lurched—dropping only to seize up once more. "In that event, what is to become of Lilith?"
"She shall, naturally, depart alongside Adam. As the Mother of Humanity, she would bear the sacred duty of giving life—a blessing of the utmost magnitude."
The Chief Seraph offered no comment regarding this so-called "blessing." He had no wish to create a rift with God at this particular moment—yet neither could he bear to stand idly by while an angel's destiny was thus arbitrarily sealed. "Yet, regarding this matter—should it not require Lilith's consent...?"
God grew displeased by the angel's repeated acts of disobedience.
"Lucifer," He called out coldly, using the Archangel's formal title. "You ought to know that My decrees require the consent of no created being."
The Lord of Creation reigns supreme, transcending every law of the world; His word is absolute law, and His command is ultimate authority.
Lucifer understood this truth more clearly than any other created being. Yet, he had also experienced God's tenderness more profoundly than any other living soul; thus, when God turned His face toward him for the first time with such cold indifference, Lucifer was so utterly shocked that he remained stunned and speechless for a long while.
"Yes, You are the Most High God; I, Lucifer, have overstepped my bounds." He cast aside the sense of complacent ease he had allowed himself to indulge in—fostered by God's indulgence throughout this journey—and lowered his gaze, composing his features so as not to betray a single trace of emotion.
News that God had designated the Throne Angel Lilith to be Adam's wife soon spread throughout Heaven. When the golden-haired Throne Angel of the Sphere of Mars learned of the fate that awaited her, her emotions erupted with fierce intensity.
"I won't do it!" she cried out, her voice trembling with tears as she looked toward Samael.
"Why me?!"
"Lilith..." Samael looked upon the grief-stricken angel with deep sympathy. "His Highness said... this is God's will..."
"Are you telling me I must simply resign myself to my fate?" The Throne Angel lifted her face, a single tear tracing a path down her radiant, beautiful features.
"I suppose so," she murmured. If even the Archangel of the Seraphim was powerless to intervene, it proved that there was truly no room left for appeal.
"I will not accept this."
Yet, God's will is something no angel may defy.
She traveled to the Seventh Heaven to cast one last, distant glance at Adam. As she gazed upon his body—fashioned from mere earth—and watched his vacant, senseless smile, the urge to rebel surged within her with ever-increasing intensity.
"I will not accept this!"
How could she possibly endure such a foul, vulgar, and witless creature?!
"Why must I not defy it?!"
"And who, I ask you, ever bothered to ask for *my* consent?!"
Her destiny belonged solely in her own hands; no one else had the right to decide it for her. Spreading her wings wide, she flew forth—resolute and unyielding—out beyond the very bounds of Heaven. You have provided *[Hebrew Mythology] The Arduous History of a World's Development* by the renowned author Dan Mu'ai.