Author's note: Sup guys, long time no see! My apologies; the past few months have been pretty crazy, but I'm back. I'll be resuming updates on the story's progress over on my LiveJournal (http: /hasu-hime. livejournal. com) and now also on my Tumblr (http: /hasuhime. tumblr. com), and since a few people have had questions for me recently, you can ask me anything you like on my Formspring (http: /hasuhime. formspring. com) but don't forget to remove the spaces from the links!
Audrey stirred as another day dawned in Paradise. Squinting against the dazzling sunrise, she allowed her eyes to adjust before slowly lifting her head from the rise and fall of the warm, fleshy pillow upon which it lay. Gabriel was still sound asleep, his face a portrait of peace.
With an adoring smile, she carefully disentangled herself from his embrace and pushed back the woollen blanket she vaguely remembered Gabriel stretching for and enveloping them both within the night before. Yawning, she dressed quietly, taking in the lavender glow of the sunlight through the curtains of wisteria surrounding the pergola, and their sweet, vanilla-like scent, amplified by the morning dew.
The task at hand was a clear one, and she had no desire to burden her love with the gravity of it. She'd go it alone, she'd decided; if it worked, it'd save Gabriel the worry of the wait, and if it didn't...
Well, it won't come to that, she reassured herself, instilled with faith in God. It all makes sense now, Audrey thought. He's endured so much... all this time, without her. Because of us. She imagined a life as long as the Lord's without Gabriel by her side; looking after a planet full of toddlers who were to blame for the death of the one she loved. It was like eternal community service for a crime that wasn't his, helping people who deserved it about as much as Hitler deserved the Nobel Peace Prize.
Audrey gasped slightly; her boots were cold on her bare feet, so, removing them once more, she opted for the damp, sun-warmed, grass between her toes as she slipped out through the lilac flora, down the wooden steps and out across the meadow surrounding her.
It was bordered by a thick forest, inhabited by every kind of tree she'd ever heard of and countless encyclopaedias worth of those she hadn't. She headed back the way they'd come the night before, towards a cluster of willow trees she recalled from the journey. Their branches formed a dense veil of leaves which, as she pulled them aside and passed under the canopies they provided, she discovered they concealed another clearing.
Much smaller than the one she'd just left, it was more of a glade, with long, lush grass growing sparsely from a pillowy carpet of moss dotted with blue and pink forget-me-nots. Down the centre, leading on through the trees, was a soft, earthy trail, but it had all but overgrown, as though it were once travelled as regularly as the sun across the periwinkle sky. On one side of the path was a loveseat, made of ancient, weathered blocks of stone, covered in moss just like the forest floor and sprouting tiny, white flowers of its own. Directly opposite, on the other side of the trail, grew a tree.
She hadn't noticed it to begin with, because at first glance it was just a younger version of its giant, willow neighbours. It was smaller – she could easily have reached its lower boughs without stretching, and its branches were the same long, leafy vines, rustling as they swayed with the breeze. Stepping closer, however, she noticed that it bore hundreds upon thousands of tiny, grape-like berries, translucent-white with greenish centres and no bigger than peas. They gave off a unique aroma, she noticed, like sweet apple guava mixed with cardamom and a hint of firewood. Taking the seductive scent deep into her lungs, she closed her eyes.
It was such a rich, irresistible fragrance; luscious darkness engulfed her senses. Hungrily, she opened her eyes, raising her fingertips towards a cluster of pearlescent fruit. They glistened with dew in the dappled morning light of the forest, their chartreuse centres like...
Audrey paused as a bright, lime star bounced around her mind. Not a star... she deduced, her thoughts straining to pull away. A soul. Gaia. God's lost love.
Love... Her hand retreated slowly. Gabriel. Sleeping, in the pergola, in Eden. Blinking at the berries before her, she realised what she was looking at. Fruit.
Shaking her head clear, breathing as though she'd been running for days, Audrey drove temptation from her thoughts with such force that a powerful pulse of light rolled off her like a wave. It lapped away every shadow within, cleansing her as she stumbled feebly backwards, and the wave continued out through the branches before her.
Large, warm arms caught her from behind, and an avalanche of suddenly ripe, perfectly clear berries cascaded from their curtain of branches and fell in a circular range of crystalline mountains.
"Gabriel?" Audrey guessed, fighting to catch her breath as she was lifted from the mossy ground and set down upon the cool, stone seat, but as her rescuer crouched in front of her, also barefoot, on the rocks atop which the seat was built, her heart sank. The sandy-headed Father's incredulous features came into view as he tore his gaze from the Tree of Knowledge and turned to look at her. "I'm s... I'm sorry," she pleaded, her words tumbling and her heart doubling in pace as guilty tears flooded her vision. "I'm s-sorry, I didn't mean... I never meant to—"
"I don't believe it," Iehovah whispered, sending Audrey into a panicked flurry of tears. "You've no idea what you've done." The air was still and the forest silent; it seemed as though Eden, in its entirety, had stopped and turned to watch history repeat itself.
"I'm so s-sorry," she sobbed, barely louder than a summer breeze. "I—"
"Shhh," he hushed, rising to sit beside her, before pulling her into his fatherly embrace. Chuckling with giddy disbelief, he took her by the shoulders and pulled back to look at her. "My child, you don't understand. They're ready! You did it!"
Audrey blinked as Iehovah brushed a runaway tear from her cheek.
"W... What?"
"They've finally fallen. They're ripe!" he replied.
"But my... whatever that was... they were shaken loose."
"Did your Elatio Divina also alter their colour?" Audrey paused.
"I don't know, you tell me," she shrugged.
Smiling sagely, he held her face tenderly in the hands which had both created and destroyed; loved and punished. They were soft, yet strong, and warm as the spring sun on her wet cheeks.
"Do you not think I'd have tried cleansing them before? Blessing them? The rainwater which nourishes them? The soil that nurtures them? Do you not think that I've had my beloved Gaia and every angelic being we've ever created stand together, around that very place, and light up this clearing so brightly that it bled through into your world, causing the repetitive echo which you recognise as the Northern Lights? So powerful that because of the way in which the Earth's magnetic poles were made, the echo is mirrored on the opposite side of the planet?"
"I... Whoa." Iehovah chuckled once more, nodding once.
"How did you do it? How did you resist it? Not to sound arrogant, by any means, but even I was unable."
"I don't know," she answered truthfully. "...Wait, what?"
Releasing her shoulders, he looked down at his hands, and in the second his amber eyes were fixed there before returning to Audrey's gaze, they had filled with such immense pain and guilt, she could hardly bear to look.
"A few years ago, around the time when you were born, Audrey, prophecies began surfacing in your world. Each bore a different message; each was channelled by a different prophet, and none of them made any particular sense. I didn't understand – I still don't; they weren't coming from me.
The only other entity remaining, powerful enough to create these messages, is Satan. So, that's the assumption I made, and I couldn't let evil gain the upper hand. I tried to offset the balance, because without balance the future cannot be foretold. I orchestrated miracles: rain to remedy droughts; antibodies to help combat deadly sicknesses; even small, personal cases, like expanding the aortic valve of a child undergoing heart surgery, to prevent it from obstructing the blood flow and ultimately killing him.
I should have known better than to meddle. Satan was quick off the mark. The atmospheric changes I made to send rain caused a domino effect that led to several devastating natural disasters, killing millions. The survivors of the sickness were among dead. The child with the defective heart lived, but the little girl for whom his perfectly healthy liver was intended never stood a chance."
Audrey's fingertips found their way, unconsciously, to her lips, as she listened to the Lord's tormented story.
"No tragedies were averted. It's impossible, while evil still thrives. Satan, as far as I could tell, had some treacherous plot in the making, and there was, apparently, absolutely nothing I could do.
I created another Incarnation, in the same way I created Jesus. Without Gaia, I cannot create life from scratch, but I can split a soul into two parts. Neither can I prevent the natural creation of life, but I can make it possible for two souls to coexist within one vessel, so long as only one of them is whole. Like a man and his conscience, if you will. So, within the unborn son of a young waitress with immeasurable, unfaltering love to protect her, I imbued a fragment of my own."
"Charlie and Jeep," Audrey realised aloud.
"It was a plan which would take time and patience while the child grew into a man, and unfortunately, time ran out before he even made it into the world.
Another prophecy surfaced. The child brings forth destruction, from which a new path shall arise." He sighed heavily, lowering his forehead to his palms. "Still assuming that Satan was behind the cryptic messages, I interpreted it to mean that, somehow, my Incarnation would be manipulated for evil's gain.
I came here, to think." Raising his head, he rested his lips against his clasped fingers as he spoke. "Gaia and I used to sit in this very spot, overlooking the tree we cultivated together with our knowledge. We'd discuss the matter for days on end: how does one eradicate evil, the darkness of the soul, from sentient life? I'd hoped for an epiphany," he smirked briefly, "in both senses of the word.
Sure enough, her soul came to me, and I held it in my hand. She looked at me, for it was all she capable of," Iehovah's voice wavered with grief, and Audrey reached out to enclose his hand with hers, squeezing it gently, imploring him to go on. As he did so, he rose from the stone seat, pulling her up with him, and guided her carefully down the descending rocks, back to the soft, green moss.
"Like you, I strayed too close to the fruit," he told her, leading her across the clearing towards the newly-fallen berries. "She walked with me, but by the time I got to here," he stopped a few feet from the branches and turned to Audrey, "I was so overcome by desperation to find the solution, and the intoxicating lure of the berries, I'd let go of her."
"So... you ate one?"
"A whole handful," he confessed ashamedly, picking up the topmost fruit of the nearest pile to avoid meeting her gaze. "It's all my fault. Your parents and eighty-four percent of the world's population... my creations... our beloved children. They're all dead, because of me."
Audrey reeled. Eighty-four percent? She'd seen it for herself, experienced the brutal damage first-hand, but the figure weighed heavily on her all the same.
Iehovah handed her the berry. It sat, sparkling in her palm like a giant droplet of water. There was no alluring scent; no aching hunger. She looked up at the contrite Creator, and with no need for fruit, she knew.
"You're wrong," she identified. Iehovah finally looked her in the eye.
"I assure you, Audrey, it was I who gave the order for humanity's extermination."
"Under the influence of the fruit." He nodded in accord. "I believe you, but you're wrong. I know now, how I did it; how I made the berries ripen and fall." Iehovah listened intently, quietly certain of his accuracy, but more interested in the solution this young, human girl had found when he could not. "The key approaches in the form of love. When I resisted them, I was able to because I had something better; something that gave me hope. I have Gabriel. I have love." She took a step closer, watching revelation wash over him as she spoke, and the anguish it undeniably caused. "You failed because you had nothing to pull you back. Your love was taken from you, by us." Reaching up, she placed the crystalline berry between his lips as he opened them for her. "The fault is ours, and it's ours to put right."
As one diamond was swallowed, another escaped the lonely Shepherd's solar eyes, blazing with renewed faith in the hope she spoke of. He hardly dared to believe it could be, but the fruit's purity diffused through his body, and clarity conquered his mind, showing him what must be done.