Lilith wandered through the dense forest, her bare feet brushing against damp leaves and uneven earth. The air was crisp, and the light of day struggled to break through the thick canopy of trees. She had been running for what felt like days, always looking over her shoulder, afraid that the seraphim might find her and drag her back to Eden. She had narrowly avoided them on several occasions, hiding behind trees or slipping into dark crevices when she heard their wings fluttering above. Their voices called her name in frustration, demanding her return, but she refused to answer. She would rather disappear into the wilderness than surrender her freedom.
Her stomach growled, and her limbs trembled with exhaustion. She had not eaten since she left Eden. The fruits and abundant food of the garden were now just a distant memory. She foraged what she could—berries and roots—but it wasn't enough to keep her strength. Her throat ached from thirst, and the cool forest air only deepened the chill that seemed to seep into her very bones.
Sitting by the base of a large tree, Lilith drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. The realization of her situation hit her harder with each passing moment. She was free, yes, but at what cost? She had no one. No one to share her freedom, her pain, her triumphs. Adam had turned his back on her, choosing to appease the seraphim rather than stand by her side. He was her husband, her partner, the one who was supposed to cherish and protect her. But when she needed him most, he had chosen obedience over love.
Tears began to spill down her cheeks as the loneliness consumed her. For the first time, the weight of her decision pressed down on her chest. She had no shelter, no companionship, and no certainty of survival. Her heart ached for the sense of belonging she had left behind. But what kind of belonging was it? She had been treated as less than Adam, expected to bow to the seraphim's demands, to be something she was not. She didn't regret standing her ground, refusing to be treated as inferior, but the reality of her isolation was suffocating.
"I don't want to die like this," she whispered to herself, her voice shaking. The sound of her own voice startled her—it was the first time she had spoken aloud in days. The loneliness was unbearable. She longed for someone, anyone, to hear her, to tell her she wasn't alone, that her life meant something more than just fulfilling a role someone else had written for her.
Doubt began to creep into her mind. Had she made a mistake? Was her freedom worth this anguish? The forest seemed endless, and every step felt heavier than the last. She leaned back against the tree, her vision blurred by tears, and let out a choked sob. Her independence had been a fierce declaration of her worth, but now, stripped of all comforts and companionship, she began to question if it had been the right choice.
"What now?" she murmured. "Where do I go from here?"
Her chest tightened as fear began to take hold. The world beyond Eden was vast and unknown. She had no plan, no direction, and no one to guide her. For the first time since she left, she allowed herself to admit the truth: she was scared. Scared of what lay ahead, scared of what she had left behind, and scared of the possibility that she might truly die alone.
As the day turned to twilight, the forest grew colder. Lilith wrapped her arms tighter around herself, rocking slightly as she tried to keep her thoughts from spiraling further into despair. She stared up at the sky through the trees, her tear-streaked face illuminated by the faint light of the stars.
"I don't regret leaving," she whispered, her voice firmer now. "But I don't want to be alone anymore."
For now, she resolved to keep moving, to keep surviving. Even if she was unsure of her path, she couldn't give up. She had fought too hard for her freedom to let it slip away. But as she trudged through the woods, her heart weighed heavy with the knowledge that freedom, for all its value, was a lonely burden to bear.
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Sera stood at the edge of the Garden of Eden, the celestial glow of the horizon dimming as night began to fall. Her expression was a blend of weariness and frustration, the weight of her responsibilities pressing harder than ever. She had no choice but to handle the situation alone, forcing herself to face the reality that neither the virtues nor Samael were coming to her aid.
She turned to the seraphim, who gathered before her, their expressions ranging from guilt to irritation. "You will continue searching for Lilith until the last light fades from the sky," Sera ordered, her tone sharper than usual. "This is your mess to fix, and you will not stop until we find her."
The seraphim grumbled quietly amongst themselves but obeyed, spreading their wings and taking off into the darkening skies. Sera watched them disappear into the distance before turning her attention to Adam, who stood silently nearby, his head bowed.
The first man had spent the day working tirelessly in the garden, following Sera's strict instructions. She had made sure he was no longer idle, assigning him tasks that would remind him of the responsibility he had failed to uphold. Yet, as she observed him, she couldn't help but notice the cracks forming in his demeanor. His movements were slower, his shoulders heavier with guilt.
As Adam finished watering the last of the fruit trees, he hesitated, his gaze lingering on the spot where Lilith used to sit and weave garlands from the flowers. His voice broke the silence, hesitant and laced with sorrow. "Sera," he called softly, turning to face her. "Is... Is she okay? Have the seraphim found her yet?"
Sera's heart sank at the question. She wanted to provide comfort, to assure him that Lilith was safe and would return soon, but she couldn't. Instead, she met his gaze with uncertainty. "Not yet," she admitted, her voice quieter than before. "But we are trying, Adam. We won't give up."
Adam's expression faltered, his guilt etched plainly across his face. He nodded slowly, his fingers clenching the edge of his cloth garment. "I just... I didn't mean for her to leave. I was scared. The seraphim were angry, and I thought I was doing the right thing. But now..." His voice cracked, and he looked down at his hands. "I miss her. I wish I could tell her that."
Sera didn't respond immediately, unsure of what to say. She wasn't used to comforting others in this way; her role had always been to enforce order, not to mend broken hearts. "Then work to prove it," she finally said, her tone softer. "Show her that you're willing to change, that you're capable of more than this."
Adam nodded again, determination flickering in his eyes. "I will. I'll make it right."
As the night deepened, Sera remained in the garden, watching over Adam as he tended to the final tasks of the day. She saw his resolve and his regret, but it wasn't enough to erase the pain caused by his actions. And yet, she couldn't bring herself to blame him entirely. This situation was a failure on many levels—her own, the seraphim's, and Adam's.
When Adam finally returned to his resting place, he turned to her one last time, his voice barely above a whisper. "Do you think she'll ever forgive me?"
Sera's chest tightened. "I don't know," she admitted. "But for now, all we can do is keep trying."
As Adam fell silent and the night settled over Eden, Sera remained awake, her mind racing. She had to find Lilith. Not just for Adam, not just for the humanity project, but because she couldn't bear the thought of another life being lost because of her own failure. For now, all she could do was push forward and hope— hope that it wasn't too late.
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Samael carefully crept through the shadows of the Celestial Hall, his movements slow and silent. He half-expected to be caught by one of the seraphim, but to his surprise, the hall was empty. In the center of the room, the glowing projection of Earth hovered, casting a faint light across the vast chamber. Samael stepped closer, his curiosity overriding his caution.
The projection displayed the darkened landscape of nightfall on Earth. He could see the seraphim scattered beyond Eden, searching frantically for Lilith. Their glowing forms flitted through the trees and over hills, their determination palpable even from this distance. Within Eden itself, Samael noticed Adam tending to the garden with a somber expression. Sera stood nearby, gazing off into the distance with an unreadable look on her face. The sight of them stirred something in Samael—an odd mix of pity and frustration.
"This is all so wrong," he muttered to himself, his voice barely above a whisper.
Samael's gaze drifted to the edge of the projection, to the untamed wilderness beyond Eden's bounds. Somewhere out there, Lilith was alone, far from the safety of the garden. The thought of her struggling, abandoned by those who should have supported her, struck a chord in Samael's heart. He clenched his fists, his resolve hardening.
Without another thought, Samael closed his eyes and concentrated. A soft glow enveloped him, and in a flash, he transported himself to Earth.
He appeared just outside Eden's borders, the air cooler and the landscape wilder. Not wanting to be spotted by the seraphim, Samael quickly transformed into a snake. His lithe, shimmering form slithered close to the ground, blending seamlessly with the terrain. His serpentine body moved gracefully as he searched for Lilith, his sharp eyes scanning the area for any sign of her.
After what felt like an eternity, Samael finally spotted her. Lilith sat near a tranquil body of water, her knees pulled to her chest as she gazed at the moon's reflection. The soft melody of a tune hummed from her lips, carried gently by the night breeze. Samael froze, mesmerized. Up close, her beauty and presence were even more striking. Her defiance, her strength—it was no wonder she had left such a profound impression on him.
Summoning his courage, Samael began to speak from his hidden spot. "You sing beautifully."
Lilith flinched, her head snapping up as she quickly scanned the area. Her entire body tensed, and she instinctively moved to hide behind a nearby tree, her eyes darting wildly. "Who's there?" she demanded, her voice sharp and wary.
"It's okay," Samael said gently, staying hidden. "I'm not one of the seraphim. I'm an archangel... My name is Samael."
Lilith didn't respond, but Samael could tell she was listening. He continued, keeping his tone calm and reassuring. "I've been observing you for some time, along with the seraphim. But I think the way they've treated you is wrong. You stood up for yourself, refused to be controlled, and I admire that. I understand why you left."
There was a long silence before Lilith finally spoke, her voice still cautious. "Why are you here?"
"I want to help you," Samael replied earnestly. "You don't deserve to die because of other people's actions. I'm not here to force you to do anything—I just want to make sure you're safe."
Lilith didn't respond immediately. Samael could feel her hesitation, her wariness. But slowly, her head peeked out from behind the tree, her sharp eyes scanning the darkness. "If you're really here to help me, show yourself," she said firmly.
Samael hesitated for a moment before speaking up. "Look down," he said softly.
Lilith blinked, confused, before lowering her gaze. Her eyes widened in shock as she spotted the snake coiled on the ground, its iridescent scales shimmering faintly in the moonlight. The snake's bright eyes met hers, and for a moment, there was only silence.
"Hello," Samael said awkwardly, his voice tinged with nervousness.
Lilith stared at him, her expression a mix of disbelief and confusion. "You're... a snake?" she asked incredulously.
Samael let out a small, sheepish laugh. "It's a long story."