I knew they were keeping me there only because they weren't sure what I was. What I could do.

I peered around the large room with my bright orange eyes, a calm expression on my face. The bed I was sitting on was large and plush, with a decorative red quilt spread overtop. I enjoyed tracing its black pattern with the tip of my finger, feeling perplexed when I reached a point where it spanned in two directions. I never knew which one to keep following.

The walls around me reached high above my head to connect with a vaulted ceiling. They were painted in mosaics, with deep greens and pale yellows, shy dabs of pink and deep, heavy shadows. The entire scene that surrounded me was of Adam and Eve the moment before the apple was bitten.

Eve, fleshy and naked, held the fruit in her hand and gazed at it with a curious, faraway expression while the dark shadow of the serpent loomed behind her, entwined around a branch. His eyes were orange, like mine, and seemed more real than the rest of him. They leered at Eve with a malicious glimmer that always gave me a twinge of unease whenever I looked for too long.

Adam stood near the two, a rather vacant expression on his face as he witnessed his sole companion about to commit the divine treachery. Both of their faces were tender and naïve, their expressions painted beautifully by a skillful hand. At times I fancied their eyes shimmered.

The trees in the background were bars of black and brown surrounded by thick, murky shadows. Differing shades of darkest green and brown led the eye to believe that there were other creatures in the garden besides the snake, creatures possibly more sinister. If I looked long enough, I could almost make out the lithe form of a tiger, slinking behind the trees, perhaps wondering how he could escape.

The trees' leafy tops reached to the ceiling where they ended abruptly at the white stucco. When I first discovered this, I thought it a terrible shame that they hadn't painted the ceiling as well. It made the trees look half-hearted and false.

I thoroughly enjoyed examining every detail of the mosaic, from the tiny veins of the leaves to the fading pinks and oranges used for the blush on the two figure's faces. At times, I would gently run my fingers along their cheeks, delighting in being able to feel the uneven surface of the paint strokes. I believe at one point I spent the better part of four hours following the strokes and trying to imagine what the painter was feeling when he made them. I did not know who it was; I could not find a signature anywhere on the mosaic that hinted a name.

I paused my tranquil staring at the chaste line of Adam's lips for a moment to check the time.

There was a digital clock on the bedside table. Its numbers glowed a pleasant blue. I had understood the nature of humans' comprehension of time for ages – I understood seconds, minutes, hours, etc. It was, however, difficult for me to fathom their need for it. They seemed to live as though time were a devil at their throat, waiting to grab them and drag them away. Their eyes seemed to be flickering to those ever-changing numbers on a daily basis. I have even seen anxiety set in when they hadn't seen a clock or numbered screen for an extended period. They seemed unable to live without it.

At the moment it was 7: 43 p.m. I had been in this room for approximately sixty two hours and thirty seven minutes.

Acknowledging this, I looked up at the steady red dot of light that shone from the black device attached to the wall. It was stationed above one of the branches of the trees, making it look like a crow with one red, unblinking eye. It followed me when I moved about the room, making a whirring sound as it went. It did not bother me; they were only watching me because they were unsure of me. They wanted to see if I was dangerous.

Which I was.

I continued gazing into the red light as I leaned forward and began opening my wings. They were a little stiff from being closed for so long – I hadn't extended them at all since my confinement. As they slowly began reaching toward the walls, the long black feathers slid over each other, rustling softly in the quiet of the room. I adored the sound. When fully opened, they spanned nearly fourteen feet from wingtip to wingtip. This was a problem in the room, for it was not large enough to accommodate them fully extended. When the tips reached the walls, the feathers had to bend slightly.

As soon as I stretched sufficiently, I closed them again tight against my back. I sat back against the ornate headboard of the bed and affixed my stare on Eve's pale face.

"This confinement is becoming irksome," I said quietly. The red light on the camera flickered.

A few moments passed in which I continued gazing at the mural in mute contemplation. I kept imagining what it would have been like to dwell in the Garden, to tend to it under God's divine order. I also kept imagining what it was like for Adam and Eve to Fall. Did they feel like me? Did they feel as though they were a fish plucked out of water and left to gasp on dry land? I tilted my head at this bizarre metaphor that I had just conjured. Existing within the mortal world had begun to alter my thoughts and make me think strange things I had never thought before. Deep reflection had always been a daily phenomenon of mine, but before they had taken me I was not used to pondering the world in comparisons. Upfront observation, scrutiny and unmarred opinion was what I sought.

My amber eyes continued looking at Eve. "What was the Fall like, poor, misguided human?" I whispered. Visions of confusion, turmoil and angst muddled my thoughts. I had never been skilled at looking into the past, like some of my sisters. The images I saw were usually vague and distorted, hard to read. The added difficulty of looking back to the Beginning only made my attempts more feeble. I got one last flash of disorganized colors and a great, crippling wave of despair before sighing and ceasing my effort.

My eyes burned and I knew that they had turned black. It was the effect of looking into the past and took some time to fade. They also changed color when I hungered, but luckily for them, I had fed just before they had taken me. I had gorged, in fact.

I crossed my legs and folded my hands in my lap. I sat up straight and closed my eyes. I dearly wished to see Venir, and wondered where he was. I knew he would be trying to find me, but the people who held me were clever in their hiding place. Their rooms ran deep. If Venir had known where I was, I would be out already and everyone in the vicinity would be dead. I could escape myself, of course, but curiosity was always one of my weaknesses, and I could not help but wonder what they were planning on doing with me.

As soon as I had thought it, loud clanking noises began on the other side of the thick metal door, the only entrance to the room. I had not heard these sounds before; they were loud and obtrusive, and I flinched slightly at their tenor. I believed them to be the opening of powerful locks; I pictured the bolt being slid back in its metal chamber, the piercing slam as it was fully drawn back, and the turning of a great metal cog that would ultimately open the door.

I opened my eyes, feeling them roll in my head like hot, oiled marbles. I fixed them to the door, where a strip of blackness was now showing. I smelled a peculiar scent waft through; it was oily and wet, with the hint of ocean salt underneath.

"I am not going to hurt you," a pleasant voice said. It was cautiously friendly and, though I could easily tell it was male, I was not familiar with its tone.

I did not reply. I was fairly sure that what he said was the truth, although I had not yet seen or spoken with my captors and therefore could not make a judgment on their character. I decided to remain silent for the time being. There followed a pause where the door neither shut nor opened wider. I waited patiently. They would enter soon enough.

As I thought, the door opened wider and a very strange individual stepped into the room. He was of reasonable height; there was nothing peculiar in that regard. What I could not stop my eyes from staring at was the color of his skin. It was a bright, vivid blue, with darker streaks across his shoulders and torso. He was shirtless and wore only a pair of black, tight-fitting swim attire. He closed the door behind him and then turned to appraise me. His eyes were large and filled with so many different hues of blue as to amaze me exceedingly. I could not stop gawking at him. He looked like a cross between a human and a fish, and the bizarre notion of so impossible an idea drew me to my feet so that I could be face to face with him.