Shamsiel reminisced. He remembered the times gone by, when he and Hasdiel were chief aids to Uriel. Uriel was one of the twelve guards that served as the voice. Uriel was among the four who held the winds of the earth, who had held the season of summer. Uriel also served as the Apocalypse presiding over Samael, the chief Angel of Death. He held the key to the Pit and was responsible for the entrance to Hades on the last day of days. Shamsiel and Hasdiel had looked up to him, serving in Uriel’s shadow. Shamsiel shone like a jewel in the light of Uriel, and when Shamsiel was chosen to be one of the angels who stood guard at this place, he had thanked Uriel for the assignment. Hasdiel had been handed the lonely post of tending Saturn, while Shamsiel had his sentinel duty next to Metatron. He did not know what he had done to deserve this or if it was any better than being in one of the upper heavens, guarding one of the wandering stars.

When the others came to ask questions, as always, Metatron did not give his opinion. Not of the job, nor of anything else. Metatron was Metatron alone. An enigma in a puzzle in a riddle. Enormous to be sure, the second largest angel in heaven. He was the definition of imposition. People from a distance, if they could see him, always knew that the guards were there. Metatron, glowing with the red fire of the sun, was almost as bright as the face of HIM.

Once, on a day like any other, Metatron and Shamsiel were watching Adam and his sons work in the field with their wives. Shamsiel had noticed that Adam’s grief grew with every day that passed. Adam had not come up today to remember. Adam used to come by Shamsiel daily and stare with longing past him, and remember what he had lost. And though Adam could not actually see inside, for it had been hidden from man, he would steal glances back and think of their last day there. The day when HE had cut open a Capri and laid it out on the ground. The blood covenant that HE cut with Adam had served as both the sacrifice for sin as well as to clothe the man Adam and his wife Issah.

The people of the earth had come to trade, down by their newly built houses. The earth people had brought with them their very few precious belongings. Almost dumb with awe at the sight of Adam, they groveled with their nuts and berries and wild eggs. Adam and his wife would trade grains and milk from their work with the land. Adam was in charge of the farms and the flocks, and also of building the enclosures they had come to dwell in, while she was in charge of maintaining everything inside of the dwellings. Shamsiel saw that the houses they built reflected the houses in the hosts of heaven, and envied Adam and his genius for their building. They were poor reflections, but they had achieved this knowledge from nowhere, simply the residual breath of HIM.

Eve had gained her new name when they had their children… Able and Cain. It was a hideous process to be born the way earth people were born, but this was the process that HE had ordained for them now that they were outside.

Adam had taken her name away when this happened. Issah meant “It is another one like me.” Eve meant “Here is the mother of my children.” She had changed since she had been forced out. She never came near, but once, while she was walking by, she stopped and peered right into Shamsiel’s eyes and wept bitter tears.