The Fall - By Chana Keefer

CHAPTER Fourteen

Allies



Rapha knew he would have to repent for the delight he took in Lucifer’s pain. The fallen angel had visited agony on so many. Now, through stealing what was forbidden, Lucifer was learning true physical pain for the first time and thus his angelic body would forever be marked by this transgression—one more giant step away from the purity for which he was formed.

When Rapha led Adam and Glory through the monstrous arch and into the courtyard that now rang with the cacophony of vicious battle, they gagged on fumes roiling up from the ground as if the rot of a millennia had been loosed. Through the noxious haze, a shaft of sunlight pierced through. Glory shrieked. There was no need to ask the cause of her fright. They could now see clearly that all illumination was gone from her and from Adam. No heavenly radiance, no glowing colors. Nothing.

She looked around in horror and her arms flailed in a vain attempt to cover her body but there was no time for modesty. Their world had gone mad.

Fire and chaos greeted them. Horrors rained from the sky and crawled from the belly of the Earth bringing turmoil in their wake. In their terror, formerly gentle creatures ripped and tore, their bodies resembling more and more the accursed beasts trained for death as enemy forces spurred more bloodshed. Time and again Glory wanted to assist the frightened, wounded animals but Rapha drove them on without rest, until they came to a small cave where he left them a moment to spy out the path ahead.

When he returned to collect them, the humans were sewing together leaves to cover their bodies. Their attempts to hide their nakedness moved him to pity. For one short hour Adam had tasted his authority over creation only to experience complete humiliation before that hour was through. Therefore, even as a growing threat haunted his heart, Rapha humored their feeble attempts by grabbing one of the sharp needles from the prickly bush at the mouth of the cave and joining their efforts.

He wanted to say something to encourage them, to dismiss the fear and bring peace, but there was nothing to say. On and on they stitched, aware of the futility of the gesture, too shocked for conversation, too mortified to look at one other, but somehow the mundane task was calming. As they donned their garments, Adam finally spoke.

“Thank you,” he muttered. It was two words and Adam’s eyes were averted, but it was something.

Glory was so stunned she appeared unaware of her surroundings. Perhaps that was for the best. They could not afford the luxury of emotional collapse.

Rapha longed to gather them into his arms and comfort them but the urgent sense of danger made him press on at a greater pace. His fellow angels were summoning him. The sooner he could get the young man and woman into the midst of allies, the better.

On they journeyed past indescribable horrors and into familiar territory now rendered unrecognizable by earthquakes, falling ash, and bloodshed. Over and over Rapha saved their lives, not just because enraged animals prowled and the ground might split at their feet, but because Adam and Glory seemed too distraught to save themselves.

Strangely enough, when they did cross paths with enemy forces, they were allowed to pass unmolested. Stranger still was their encounter with a vicious, flying reptile that had circled lower and lower until it landed in a small clearing, blocking their path. Two others had joined it, obviously anticipating a feast. Rapha summoned reinforcements and braced himself for a fight, but when the ringleader came close and sniffed the wind blowing past the man and woman, it retreated, rose quickly into the smoke-filled sky on membranous wings, and immediately its companions followed.

Rapha had no time to ponder the occurrence since his brother angels’ summons was increasingly urgent. In fact, several from the bedraggled angelic host had already gathered in the center of the garden where, although defenses had fallen, enemy forces were still refusing to approach, repelled by Adonai’s fragrance which still lingered so strongly there.

The last frantic push past carcasses of well-loved animal companions was more than the humans could bear so that by the time they joined the circle of angelic hosts, Adam and Glory simply fell to the ground in a near-catatonic state, lost in the horrors they had witnessed.

Rapha peered around the circle at the solemn faces of his celestial brothers, sensing an animosity directed toward the humans.

Battue was the first to speak. “It is good they are with you. We can more easily accomplish… unpleasant duties.”

“The entire day has been unpleasant. To what do you refer?” Rapha inquired, turning to stand in front of Adam and Glory.

“We were sent to eradicate evil from the garden. They are carriers of Lucifer’s corruption, and thus they must be eliminated.”

Adam put a protective arm around Glory who gazed blankly at the accusing celestials, her face devoid of emotion.

“They are not your concern.” Rapha was shocked by the deadly intent in several faces and sifted through the surrounding thoughts, seeking support. “I will take complete responsibility for….”

“You are no longer in charge,” Battue shouted, cutting him off. “You abandoned your responsibilities when you entered Lucifer’s domain.”

“I could not abandon them!” He detected a hint of empathy beneath Battue’s harshness. He had been reluctant to oppose Rapha but others had convinced him of this present course. Ah. There it was. The deepest resentment flowed from the tight-knit threesome led by Phineas, a stalwart, reliable warrior, but not someone Rapha desired as an enemy. Phineas’ dark, angry eyes returned his gaze. “Speak your mind, brother,” Rapha said.

“There is no other choice.” Phineas replied as several others nodded agreement. “Will you deny their bodies were joined with Lucifer? Will you suggest another way to eradicate corruption? You know death alone will suffice.”

“This judgment is not ours to apply. We must await Adonai’s specific instructions—”

Phineas interrupted. “Have we learned nothing? If we allow this… thing to survive, all creation will once again destroy itself. Lucifer will have his way—again!”

Battue motioned to Phineas who reluctantly yielded to his authority. “Rapha, wiping out evil now will prevent an age of bloodshed. We all wish it could be otherwise. We had such high hopes and have grown so fond of the humans, but Lucifer’s plan must not succeed. If I were corrupted by Lucifer’s seed, I would gladly sacrifice myself to….”

“But it is not you!” The pious prose was grating on Rapha. “And it is not for you to decide whether another member of Adonai’s creation is not worthy to live. He will give us His counsel; we will not advise Him….”

“Do not quote Adonai’s ways to us,” Phineas reprimanded. “You have become so enmeshed with the humans, the truth is hidden from you!”

“No, I see the truth all too clearly, Phineas. You would end their lives because they threaten what you see as the proper order of things. You prefer a world where humans are kept in their place, unable to comprehend Adonai’s ways, with no longing for what they are missing.”

A breathless silence hovered. Rapha had just implied that Phineas’ views were in league with Lucifer. They remembered well Phineas’ history, that he had once almost joined Lucifer’s cause. Every angel crouched, ready for attack, as Phineas’ face twisted with fury.

“How dare you accuse me when you stand aligned with evil!” Phineas, flanked by his supporters, advanced toward Rapha as Battue leapt between them.

“NO!” The young woman’s voice cried out. “Please! Don’t. I will not resist, but let Adam and Rapha go.”

The angels stopped, stunned. There stood the woman, filthy, shamed and bloodstained but (how could it be?) she looked every inch a queen. And when Adam leapt to her side, the sun’s rays, sepia-toned from the smoke-filled haze, reflected off the white stone behind him, creating a halo of gold atop his head.

That was all the distraction Rapha required. He enveloped the humans in his arms. For a split second, they heard a corresponding outcry from the surrounding angels, then nothing but the sound of rushing water. Immediately Rapha was hit with a wave of exhaustion from the effort of shifting the three of them through space. He fell to his knees as Adam and the girl blinked in amazement to find themselves in a small cavern behind a waterfall.

This was her first time becoming “malleable” and the girl was too heartbroken to care. She realized this was the very spot where she had bathed just a few hours before, but a cataclysmic transformation had occurred. That girl who swam in the early morning light and placed a flower in her hair… was no more.

The freshness was gone. The air smelled strange. Even the sound of splashing water carried a thud instead of a happy sparkle. The light was dim, glowing with a strange, reddish tinge. Maybe that was why the water pouring down before their eyes looked pink rather than clear. She reached a hand toward the splashing fall that had always been so refreshing, but now recoiled as the first drop touched her skin. How could water feel wrong?

Then she looked through the falling curtain, down to the pool—and screamed. Immediately Rapha’s hand was over her mouth, squelching the sound.

Bodies were everywhere. Some were their enemies but most were remains of beloved animal friends. And not just bodies, but mangled body parts were strewn as far as she could see, the aftermath of mindless slaughter, the work of those who destroyed for the pleasure of it.

Glory was gasping, then she was on her knees, wretching until her stomach expelled its contents.

As she tore her gaze from the bloody panorama and wiped a trembling hand across her lips, her eyes met Rapha’s. And there sat Adam, weeping.

“Why didn’t you let them kill me?” She spat the words as Rapha winced at the harsh tone of her voice. “That would make it simple. Adonai could just make another woman. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She addressed Adam, “Maybe this time He could do things right—wider hips, bigger breasts… perhaps someone who enjoys playing rough.”

Adam’s mouth went white at the edges and he flinched as if her words were physical blows. “I came after you. What I did, I did for you.” His voice sounded dead, hollow. “Why didn’t you tell me what he had done?”

She flushed and turned away.

“And why are there no marks on you? Is that because you did not resist?”

It was Glory’s turn to flinch as if Adam had struck her. “I saw you!” she hissed. “You loved every single blow, every single thrill of… that… that… creature’s….” Her hands were over her face as if to hide from the spectacle replaying in her mind.

“Please, stop,” Rapha pleaded. “This is Lucifer’s way. He tricks and seduces then divides. Resist the evil desiring to consume you….”

“It is far too late for instruction, friend,” Adam flung the accusation at Rapha, his shame and helplessness lashing out like a whip. “Go!” He rushed toward Rapha. “Do not look at us. Go back to your place of glory with Adonai. Go fly with your angel friends who hate us! Go tell our story to some other stupid boy who believes he is Adonai’s gift to creation!”

Rapha, filled with anguish, wanted to scream. Adam, with wild eyes and face flushed with rage, looked and sounded just like… Lucifer.

“You are fools,” Glory’s voice was quiet but it carried even more venom. “Fools!” she screamed. “You are free! You are both free. I am Lucifer’s now. His seed is in me.” She fell to her knees, bowing her face to the damp rock. “Failed. Failed,” she said over and over as she scraped her hands across the stone until the fingertips bled.

Rapha rushed to her but Glory shoved him away, her hands leaving red stains on his chest. He spoke kindly, told them again of Adonai’s love, of His word that cannot be broken, but Adam and Glory were deaf to Rapha—she, intent on punishing her body; he, lost in desperation.

With growing dread, Rapha realized the direction of Adam’s thoughts. “No,” he said. “Adam, do not do this.” He put a hand to Adam’s chest as the young man moved toward Glory.

Adam shook himself free. “Lucifer will not steal her from me. This was to be our day of joining. So it shall be.”

Glory froze and looked up at Adam through matted, mucked hair, her eyes puffy and feral. “You will not touch me.”

When Adam grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to her feet, Glory exploded with violence, kicking, punching, and scratching in desperation. Again and again Rapha bullied his way between them, but neither would stop. Both craved the abuse. Both welcomed the pain that numbed their torment and guilt.

In the blink of an eye Rapha was gone, streaking through the sky to escape. Yet there was no escape.

The doors of heaven were closed to him. He had thrown in his lot with the humans. The enormity of that decision hit home. There was nowhere to hide from evil’s consequences. Over the churning ocean waters he fled, but turmoil sped before him, infecting every intertwined cell of creation, from the depths below to the far-flung heavens that rained fearsome fire and blotted out the stars—a constant reminder of Adonai’s divine story.

Still he heard their words, felt their accusations, their guilt and despair ripping at the perfection their Maker had intended.

Through it all Lucifer’s maniacal laughter continued, exulting in Adonai’s pain.


It was early evening when Rapha felt the summons. “Where are you?” his Maker called.

“Lost,” was Rapha’s reply.

“You are never lost if I know where you are. Come.”

So Rapha limped back, wanting to shut his eyes to the devastation that had been wrought in the world in a single day, but feeling it was his penance to view what might have been prevented if he had somehow been wiser, had acted more quickly, had not run away….

The Garden was destroyed. Streams flowed red with blood. Birds, other than scavengers enjoying a carrion feast, had flown. The joyful chatter of life was replaced with sounds of mourning—whimpers, roars and fearful silence.

In the midst of this horror, Adonai stood, his holiness revealing evil in stark relief. Enemy forces had fled at his approach, loathsome creatures of darkness had slunk back to their hidden caves but left behind the carnage of their partially consumed victims. Adonai’s celestial forces were assembled, but so different from the glorious celebrations of past days. Today they were bedraggled and reeked of the evil that had vomited forth from Earth’s abyss. Today, they mourned with one voice the loss of this one bastion of purity. Today, they watered the tainted soil with their tears.

But someone was missing.

“Adam, where are you?” Adonai’s call echoed throughout the Garden. Every creature within the walls came. Even if maimed, blind, or with the blood of a victim yet dripping from their mouths, the Garden’s inhabitants walked, flew, hopped, crawled, or at least willed their broken body in the direction of The Maker’s voice—but not the man and woman. Over and over Adonai called, wooing them with a His gentle voice, but they did not come.

Rapha could feel their shame. He knew where they cowered.

“Bring them,” his Maker requested.

Adonai’s will moved Rapha to the mouth of a shallow cave. “Come, my friends,” he called. The only answer he received was a despairing wail of anguish. Further into the gloom he ventured, the glow from his body causing shadows to recede. “Adam?” He spoke softly, sensing their fragile grip on sanity.

“Please, we cannot go to Him like this. Beg Him to forget us.” The broken rasp of a whisper echoed from the damp walls. “You do not have the luxury of cowering in disgrace, Adam.

You are His son.”

“I am not fit to die here. I feel this body withering. We go to seek a place where our tainted blood will not infect the ground, where our flesh will be devoured by the birds of the air and our bones will lie, exposed in shame for all time.”

Rapha allowed a sad smile as Adam’s prose brought to mind the eloquent speech the boy had delivered on the day of Glory’s creation. Even in his despair poetry poured from his lips.

But when his warm light fell on them, the smile was replaced by a heartbroken moan. The girl’s eyes were glazed with shock as her grimy fingers plucked at her scant, torn leaf covering as if somewhere in her diseased mind she remembered a thing called dignity. Adam cowered close beside her, his face turned toward the cave wall, his nude body coated with wounds, new scratches and bruises mixed with several layers of filth. Adam, hope of the world, and the woman created as his mate, had torn at each other like vicious dogs.

Perhaps Adam was right. Perhaps they were beyond hope, so far fallen from Adonai’s intended glory there was nothing left but to crawl away and rot. There was silence in Rapha’s heart. He knelt in the dirt as hot tears coursed down his cheeks. He reached a hand toward Adam but the boy cringed as if expecting a blow. For long moments Rapha sat, inhaling their hopelessness as the steady drip, drip of water somewhere in the dark recesses combined with the occasional plink of tears onto the cave’s rocky floor.

Then his heart spoke with Adonai’s gentle voice and, in his exhaustion and despair, he did not even think. He simply opened his mouth and let their Maker address them.

“My children. I AM with you. I could never forsake you. Wherever you go I AM there. Whatever you do, I have seen. My love is more constant than the stars, more reliable than the rising sun. My plan will come to pass. I have spoken; it is accomplished. I make a way where there is no way. When it is impossible, I break through. You have failed. But My love cannot fail. My word cannot be broken. Come.”

A faint breeze of hope stirred in their hearts. It was just enough to lift their heads. Without a word they consented to follow Rapha from the cave. At a shallow pool by the cave’s entrance they bathed, their eyes averted from each other, as Rapha added fresh leaves to their abused garments. But, although washed and clothed, nothing could cleanse the haunted, hunted expression from their eyes that still proclaimed their disgrace.

They refused Rapha’s offer to expedite the journey to their Maker. “No.” Adam stood firm. “I will have no part of angelic ways. I am a creature of Earth. I will walk.”

Every step was torture. Everywhere they looked another heartbreaking scene awaited. They choked and coughed in the poisonous fumes that continued to rise from Earth’s open wounds. They tried not to cower when they beheld the decapitated and maimed, but soon they became numb, walking through this hell with pale young faces that grew older by the minute.

Only once did Rapha intervene. By a stream, a young lion had cornered a man-like creature with broken membranous wings. The creature still lived though its breath came in gurgling gasps. Rapha ran forward, chasing the lion into the shadows.

When it beheld Rapha, the winged creature hurled a string of curses at him and then made a sound they presumed to be a laugh. “We have won, foul servant of Adonai. You can keep us captive in your pits no longer while you coddle the man creatures.” It coughed, spewing a stream of dark blood onto the ground, and its eyes rolled back, barely retaining consciousness.

Rapha knelt beside the creature, “You are dying. What is your final request?”

The fangs were bared with a hideous smile and it replied, “I want to die ripping your flesh.”

When Rapha reached toward its fangs, the yellow eyes widened in surprise but, as if afraid the offer wouldn’t last, it bit and shook Rapha’s forearm, giving in to blood lust. Rapha winced but placed his other hand on the creature’s brow to stroke the bloodied hair from its eyes.

The creature released its hold and stared at Rapha. “Why?” It rasped.

“You deserve to see a touch of Adonai’s love before you die.”

Suddenly the confusion was replaced by another spasm of pain and the yellow eyes grew still. The creature was dead. Rapha gently closed the eyelids and stepped away. With a wave of his hand, a ball of fire consumed the body. Soon even the bones were gone. Only a scorched patch of ground remained.

They continued walking.

“Why?” Adam finally spoke, gazing at Rapha with new respect.

“I chased the lion away out of pity, for both creatures. The lion’s flesh would have rejected the tainted blood and would have begun to devour itself, but not before it had passed the corruption to many others. As for the unnatural creature, it never asked to be manipulated for evil purposes.”

“But your arm,” the girl reached toward his mangled limb.

“Do not touch it. The fangs were poisonous.”

“What will it do to you?” Adam inquired.

Rapha was touched by their concern. Their world was destroyed yet still they had the capacity to care. Indeed, his injury seemed to be the healthiest medicine for them, the antidote to self-absorption. “I will take it to Adonai.”

“If the poison becomes a part of you, what can be done?” The girl’s welfare was tied to this question as well. Rapha sensed the weakness she felt spreading through her body.

“I do not know exactly what Adonai will do, but I trust His love.”

“But what does He employ to remove corruption? Surely you have seen the process many times.”

Rapha hesitated. How would they continue to hope if he told them the truth? However, they deserved a straight answer. “Fire and water. But, as you have seen, the seeds of corruption remain. Many of the heavenly host believe Adonai erred by not making the destruction complete, but He hates to destroy.”

Glory was silent a moment, coming to her own painful conclusions. “So, the corrupted flesh on Earth was burned like you burned that creature?”

“Yes, but that does not completely destroy evil. The smoke carries it on the wind. Water is needed to wash it away. Even then it remains, seeping down into the soil, infecting the land.”

“Corruption remains—even after fire and floods? Then where is the hope?” She was filled with despair.

“The hope is in Adonai. His very existence is impossible, therefore the impossible does not stop Him.” Rapha’s encouraging words were lost on them. The humans trudged on, certain they marched to their own doom.