Enoch Primordial

Chronicles of the Nephilim
The Lost Book (Two)
Prequel to Noah Primeval

By Brian Godawa

ENOCH PRIMORDIAL

5b Edition

Copyright © 2012, 2014, 2017, 2021 Brian Godawa

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission, except in the case of brief quotations in critical articles and reviews.

Warrior Poet Publishing

www.warriorpoetpublishing.com

ISBN: 978-0-9859309-1-2 (Kindle)

Scripture quotations taken from The Holy Bible: English Standard Version. Wheaton: Standard Bible Society, 2001.

PROLOGUE

Expelled from the Garden of Eden on the Mountain of God, the distant patriarch Adam and his wife Havah, or Eve, the “mother of all living,” were forgotten by their descendants in the mists of time. Even though their creator Elohim’s gracious forbearance covered them, they lived in regret the rest of their days with a mysterious people somewhere in the volcanic region of Sahand, near the boundary of the Garden. Like a dog kicked out of its shelter, they lived as close to their original home as they could without being struck down by those who guarded its perimeter.

The creator Elohim marked their son, Cain, the first murderer, and he was cursed to wander the earth. Few knew what the mark was, but there were rumors. It was said that he had a wild dog or wolf as a companion. Others claimed the man himself transformed into a canine beast at every new moon. The mystery of the actual fate of the cursed Cain was only matched by the fertility of imagination and legend surrounding him.

Cain’s tribe migrated south from Nod through the Zagros Mountains and eventually broke away from their embittered patriarch to settle in the plain of Shinar, later called Sumer. The Shinarians referred to themselves as unsangiga, the black-headed people for their predominantly black hair and dark-skinned features. Unuk ben Cain, Cain’s son, was the first city builder. He created the oldest city, Eridu, naming it after his own son Irad. He also built Erech, in honor of himself. This was the beginning of the ancient cities such as Nippur, Badtibira, Larak, Sippar, and others on the Mesopotamian plains in the land between the two rivers Tigris and Euphrates. 

As mankind spread out upon the face of the earth, so did the evil that followed them. For it is the heart that is taken with man wherever he goes, and the heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked. 

Elohim replaced Cain’s cursed bloodline with another seed of Adam called Seth, the Righteous. Seth’s people multiplied and migrated down into the fertile plains and surrounding area. 

Tribal shamans divined that in a distant island beyond the primal sea a volcano had belched forth a mighty force of its gasses from the underworld below into the heavens above. The sun was obscured, and the earth grew colder for a time. Livestock perished, crops failed, the winters became harsher. It seemed that Elohim’s displeasure with man was displayed in all of the heavens and earth. 

And generations passed. 

CHAPTER 1

An eerie silence settled over Mount Hermon. The ubiquitous ringing drone of singing cicadas ceased in unison. Birds of prey and land predators stalking their next meal froze in place as though suddenly aware of a powerful hunter tracking them. The sounds, the movement, all signs of life that filled the dark night just stopped. The wildlife knew something was coming.

Mount Hermon lay about two hundred leagues to the west of the Mesopotamian valley, across the barren desert. It stood above a valley at the southernmost tip of the Sirion mountain range of the Levant, “where the land rose out of the sea” of the great western waters. It was the tallest peak in the area, about six thousand cubits high. Capped with snow most of the year, the headwaters of the Jordan River, that brought life to the wooded hills and grassy valleys of the south, began on its slopes. It was known for its heavy dew and its evergreen cypress trees that peppered the region. 

A beam of blinding light from high above in the dome of heaven punched the mountaintop. It pierced the blackness with a ferocious velocity. Heaven and earth fused as one into a cosmic center of the universe. 

Two hundred shining beings of light, brilliant as the stars, fell to earth from their lofty heights above the clouds. A crack of thunder announced their violent passage through the solid dome vault over the earth called “the firmament.” The firmament separated the waters below on the earth from the waters above in the heaven of heavens, where the temple of the creator Elohim rested. The mountains trembled and quaked to their very foundations.

These were Bene ha Elohim, Sons of God, a mere two hundred out of the myriad of Elohim’s divine council of holy ones. These mighty beings surrounded his throne on the mount of assembly with worship and legal counsel. Certain Sons of God called “Watchers,” regularly crossed the barrier between heaven and earth to carry out Elohim’s plans and to watch over the sons of men. 

But these two hundred were not carrying out Elohim’s plans tonight. These were Watchers in revolt. Led by two mighty warriors, Azazel and Semjaza, they were establishing their own mount of assembly in the far reaches of the north in direct defiance of Elohim’s will. 

They chose Mount Hermon as their abode, intending to make it a rebellious reflection of God’s own cosmic mountain of Eden, the paradise now banned to all. This choice began a complex plan of deceptive mimicry. Just as Eden held the headwaters of four rivers, the Pishon, the Gihon, the Tigris and Euphrates, all flowing out of the mountainous region surrounding the Garden, so Mount Hermon gave birth to the headwaters of the river Jordan that flowed into the Levant. Its surrounding territory would be called Bashan, “place of the Serpent,” in honor of Nachash, the Serpent of Eden. 

The Garden of Eden had been a temple sanctuary for the presence and worship of Elohim, a perfect shadow of the real temple in the heaven of heavens above the waters. Hermon would become the cosmic mountain of passage between the heavens and earth for the Watchers — the gateway of the gods.

As the Tree of Life stood in the midst of the Garden, so the Watchers chose Mount Hermon for its proximity to the World Tree of the Great Goddess Earth Mother in the Great Desert. 

The Man and Woman were the intended priests of the Garden, cultivating and keeping it as a holy center of Elohim’s cosmic order before they were banished. Mount Hermon would become a new cosmic mountain that would not only connect heaven and earth, but earth and the Abyss, also called Abzu, the subterranean waters, below which lay Sheol, the underworld. Deep within the bowels of the mountain a large cavern held a portal into the waters of the Abyss, a wide pool of thick black liquid that burned with a perpetual flame on its surface. 

The two hundred rebel Watchers assembled in disorderly ranks at the center of the new Eden by the shore of the pitch-dark liquid lagoon. Azazel and Semjaza stood ominous and intimidating before them.

“SILENCE!” Azazel’s voice thundered throughout the cavern. The Watchers abruptly stopped murmuring. Azazel’s violent temper gave him a commanding presence. Every word burned like an ember ready to explode into a burst of flames. Azazel often looked ready to burst into flames. The skin of a Watcher consisted of almost imperceptible serpentine scales that gave off a shimmering glow when enflamed by any kind of passion. And Azazel never lacked passion.

“The decision has been made. We are the Seven who Decree the Fates. If any of you question Semjaza’s leadership or my own, I most heartily welcome the contest!”

Azazel’s hostile disposition supported by the fiercest of warrior skills made him virtually unopposed in the band of fallen ones. No one would be contesting Azazel this evening.

Only Semjaza standing next to him had the requisite strength, intellect, and strategy to restrain Azazel’s volatility. It bothered him that Azazel was a loose fireball who used fear and intimidation to subjugate. He believed that more could be accomplished through positive leadership and inspiration. Semjaza’s words were calculated and carried the weight of authority. When he spoke, others listened, even Azazel. He stepped forward to draw attention from the simmering volcano at his side.

“Brethren, for the plan to work, we must all be in one accord. The mythology we are constructing requires a subversion of Elohim’s own narrative of authority. If we do not support the narrative, we may forfeit the humans’ worship of us as deity. Azazel and I have carefully deliberated who will fill the Seven, based upon craft and skill required for the plan, not upon partiality. We are all gods and we will all rule cities of men. The difference is mere façade. We seven will constitute the visible symbolic figurehead of the divine assembly of gods. As for the prize of our strategy, we will all share equally.”

The assembly of Watchers applauded. Azazel frowned with envy at Semjaza’s speaking prowess. Semjaza was clearly more skilled at making a lie sound like the truth. Though he and Azazel were equal leaders, it gave Semjaza the edge of perceived superiority. Azazel would have to find a way to change that.

Semjaza continued, “As Anu, the high god of the heavens, I will have more responsibilities of petty bureaucracy than any of you would care to shoulder. Azazel has chosen to be Inanna, the goddess of war who will lead our military administration.” 

Azazel came up with the role of goddess as an attempt at humorous irony. A female divinity who could stand on the neck of the best of any male warrior was the kind of humiliation of others he frequently sought. But he was beginning to realize that maybe he did not think that irony through well enough. He did not relish the idea of adorning himself in female garb and sexuality for such a long period of time. Some Watchers were already making jests about his feminine traits behind his back. He concluded to himself that if he caught them he would slaughter them. 

Semjaza gestured to the five others standing beside them. “Baraqel will be Enlil, the god of air; Arakiba will be Enki, god of the waters below; Tamiel will be Nanna, the moon god; Zaqiel will be Utu, the sun god; and Ezeqel will be Ninhursag, goddess of the earth.” Each of them stood proudly beaming in their new identities.

Semjaza pointed into the crowd. “Since Ramel and Sariel helped to pinpoint this location for our cosmic mountain, they shall be Ereshkigal and Nergal, goddess of the underworld and her husband. They shall guard the entrance to the Abyss.” 

Ramel winced. Much like Azazel, he did not treasure the idea of assuming a female identity. He certainly did not like the fact that according to the myth the others had created, Nergal raped Ereshkigal to make her his wife, in a failed attempt to master the secrets of the hidden underworld. Ramel consoled himself that he would be undisputed queen of the underworld, the guardian of the gates of Sheol. 

Sariel pondered how he might play out the myth in a particularly demeaning way on Ramel.

Semjaza continued, “Each of you will have your own identity in the pantheon and will be given tribes and cities to rule over as patron deities.” The worship of awe from the humans would not be too difficult. The physical structure of a Watcher represented divinity in the minds of humans. At five and a half cubits tall, with sinewy musculature, they were already towering above the average male human who stood less than four cubits tall. Their finely scaled skin produced a gleaming bronze appearance that earned them the nickname, “Shining Ones.” Coupled with their elongated heads and glimmering blue lapis lazuli reptilian eyes, their luminescence reinforced a distinction between the human and the divine necessary for their deception.

Semjaza added, “As you know, Elohim is an insufferable tyrant whose megalomania is only matched by his childish tantrums. If we want to accomplish our ultimate goal, we must give these humans a pantheon of gods that is unified, benevolent, and worthy of worship and obedience.” 

Azazel knew that last statement was meant for him. 

Semjaza had given Baraqel authority over the city of Nippur. Its central location among the cities of Shinar made it a valuable prize for Azazel’s military strategy and political status in the pantheon. Nippur would be the first location for the assembly of the divine council among humans. Azazel knew Baraqel was a favorite of Semjaza, and that was why Semjaza had sided with him against Azazel’s legitimate claim on the city. Semjaza’s compromise was to give Baraqel as Enlil the city, but to allow Azazel as Inanna to have a residence there as well. Azazel had argued vociferously against the decision at first, but decided to give in and wait for the right moment for his own rise to power. Once he led their forces into war, he would achieve the distinction that even Semjaza would have to acknowledge and perhaps even submit to. And then Azazel would rout out all those who mocked him. He would cut off their heads and boil them in lava, which was a particularly painful torture considering that Sons of God could not die mortal deaths. They were, all of them, divine.

Semjaza concluded his remarks to the assembly. “Our first task is to go out to the villages and cities and perform signs and wonders and reveal the secrets of heaven to draw the humans into our trust. If we are to make them believe us, we must believe ourselves. So it is imperative that we never use our heavenly names again. We must always refer to one another by our adopted names of deity. But more importantly, we must think of ourselves as those deities. We must inhabit our roles with truthfulness. I am no longer Semjaza; I am Anu the sky god. There is no Azazel, there is only Inanna.” 

Someone blurted out, “Queen of heaven!” Some laughed. Inanna marked out the heckler and schemed how she would torture him later. 

Anu deflected the insult. “Indeed, she is. And she is the goddess of war. You will do well to follow her lead into battle when the time comes. Until then, find your cities, reveal your mysteries, and establish your shrines of worship. This Mount Hermon will be our divine mount of assembly. We will reside here and visit our cities on an as-needed basis.”

Enlil spoke up. “But if we do not reside in our cities, will we not lose control over them with our absence?”

Anu replied, “Your religious priesthood will be responsible for crafting a graven image of you that represents your presence and rule over the city. We have developed a ritual for your priests to use to draw your breath into the statue, which becomes your living presence when you are not there. We call it the ‘opening of the mouth’ ceremony.” 

Inanna thought the ritual ridiculous, but humans were so flesh-bound they needed concrete expressions of the supernatural realm or they would lose heart. Elohim had done a poor job of uniting spirit with these disgusting filthy sacks of meat. 

Anu continued, “You will reveal the doctrine of the priest-king as also created in your own image. This will build the myth required to maintain orderly submission from your people in your absence, when we meet here at Hermon to complete our final plan of action.” 

It was brilliant. Anu had thought of everything. He had even sent out a select number of them into the four corners of the earth, south into Egypt, north beyond the Euphrates into the Halafan hinterlands, east to Elam and the Indus Valley, and even west across the great primal seas to distant unknown islands. The Watchers would reign as gods over the entire earth and inspire countless variations on their one myth of rebellion against Elohim.

But it was the final plan that excited the loyalty and devotion of the Watcher gods. 

They swore an oath, to bind everyone among them by a curse. If anyone abandoned their commitment to the final plan, or revealed its secret scheme, the others would unite and bind that Watcher into the earth to suffer the torment of frozen solitude for millennia until the judgment. It was the one heinous thing that made each and every one of them shiver with dread.

CHAPTER 6

Enoch ben Jared pushed open the doorway to the council chamber of the palace just in time to see Thamaq, one of the ruling Rephaim, pound the table in anger, all but spitting in the face of King Enmeduranki. “We have given a command and we expect it to be obeyed!” shouted Thamaq. Yahipan, the other Rephaim, grunted and nodded sternly as he leaned forward to emphasize his agreement with his co-regent’s words.

Enmeduranki was the two-hundred-year old priest-king of the city of Sippar, and Enoch, his young eighty-five-year old apkallu wisdom sage. Sippar sat strategically at the point of closest proximity between the Tigris and Euphrates in the northernmost region of Shinar. As the crucial port city for all the economic activity of the area, all commercial trade between the northern and southern regions of Mesopotamia went through Sippar. Commodities like stone, cedar, and lapis lazuli from the north, as well as barley, beer, and livestock from the south all passed through its trade channels. It was a split city, with one half on each bank of the Euphrates. A transportation canal had been dug from the nearby Tigris to connect the two rivers that serviced different sides of the alluvial plain.

The fertile land around Sippar produced an abundance of crops. But there was a shortage at that moment, and the Rephaim were not happy about it. 

Enoch choked down his disgust for these contentious giant rulers and set the clay tablets on the table, bowing in deference. “My lords, the accounting of the food stores of the city.” He wished his entrance could help Enmeduranki, but he knew the report was not good news.

“Thank you,” said Enmeduranki. He looked over the tablets for the numbers. Drops of sweat pooled on his forehead and trickled down his cheeks. The pressure was taking its toll on him. 

Enmeduranki was a good soul who sought to rule his people with compassion. But he was also a vassal of the Rephaim, the true rulers of the city. They were a new addition to the bureaucratic hierarchy above the priest-king and below the god. Enmeduranki was supposed to be a liaison between the people and the Rephaim demigods, but what it really amounted to was making the people accept the demands of the Rephaim. And their demands continued to increase.

“It is as I feared, my lords,” he sighed. “There is nothing left.”

“What do you mean there is nothing left?” blurted Thamaq. “What about the famine food stores?”

Thamaq and Yahipan were two of the original Nephilim born by the seed of the gods to rule over men. They were both nearly eight cubits tall and dressed in ostentatious robes of royalty. They were impious models of vainglorious conceit, releasing their tempers at the slightest of discrepancies. They even mocked Utu the sun god behind his back, an unforgivable act of blasphemous arrogance. Enoch detested them.

“I am afraid the famine stores are exactly what the Nephilim just finished consuming,” Enmeduranki offered. The impossible position of responsibility without true authority wearied him. “The last of our famine food stores. The normal stores were emptied out last month.”

Yahipan broke in, “Enlist more citizens to grow and harvest more food.”

“The entire city is already forced to do so. We have no more private laborers who are not slaves of the realm. We have no source of income, only administrative expenses,” pleaded Enmeduranki.

Thamaq rebuked him, “Enmeduranki, we must find a way. The Nephilim occupy the palace streets in protest. They dug the canals and built the entire irrigation system that brings the very life waters to this city from the Tigris and Euphrates. Do you question their entitlement to food?”

Enmeduranki swallowed his sigh at the utterance of that big lie. The Nephilim had built the vast irrigation canals that radiated around the cities like blood vessels. But those earthworks had been completed many years before, and they were now in grave disrepair. The giants had gathered themselves into a union of agreement that demanded minimal labor and maximum wages from the government. They had become an organized gang of thugs. Neither the Rephaim nor the gods seemed to be concerned about the demise of the city’s economy. 

“I do not question their right, my lord. But as you know, the Nephilim have increased their food intake by a factor of four over the past generation. No one anticipated such exponential growth when we first created our programs. We simply cannot keep up with their consumption.” They are very large and very hungry mouths to fill, the priest-king thought bitterly to himself.

Thamaq regathered himself, “I am not sure you understand the seriousness of our predicament, priest-king. Facts and statistics are irrelevant to the Nephilim. They are hungry, bitter, and their numbers are strong. If they rise up in revolt, I will not be able to stop them. This entire city will be at their mercy.”

“What say you, apkallu?” asked Yahipan with biting sarcasm.

Enoch’s bowed head lifted to see the intense stare of both of the Rephaim. 

“You sit there in silence. Are you not a fount of wisdom? Then vomit us some wisdom.”

For a fleeting moment, the futility of his office flashed through Enoch’s mind. He took his religious and political responsibility seriously, so seriously that he had adopted the Shinarian name Utuabzu in honor of Utu. Yet, increasingly, it seemed clear that the Rephaim were not so serious in their respect of the office or of his skills.

The city’s governance was a typical Mesopotamian oligarchy modeled after the divine council of gods. Sippar’s patron deity was Utu, the sun god. Enmeduranki was the governing ruler, the priest-king, created in the image of the gods. He carried out the combined duties of both religion and government on behalf of the deity. He had a council of elders of the city with whom he counseled, but he held closest his personal apkallu wisdom sages.

Enoch, as wisdom sage to the priest-king, was required to command a wide breadth of knowledge. He had trained in the sciences of both heavens and earth. He was shaman, diviner, scribe, and poet all in one. But it seemed to him that the most important office he held was as bard, the carrier of the culture’s stories. All the laws, governance, religious beliefs and values of a people flowed downstream from the culture embodied in the songs and epics of the poet. Hearts and souls are moved by story and he who controls the culture’s stories controls the people. 

The world of storytelling was changing dramatically around Enoch. The new visual communication called “cuneiform” was overtaking the traditional oral recitation of verse. Scribes created cuneiform as a codified physical expression of language, using utensils to make impressions on clay tablets. The scribes wanted to keep a tangible account of personal and public wealth that could not be challenged by verbal lies or faulty memory. Using handheld styluses pressed into the clay, they could list objects owned by the ruler and how many he possessed. It had started out as pictures of cows, gold, wheat, wood, and other belongings. It had evolved into an abstract system of symbols that could be rapidly copied or communicated in a legal dispute. 

Eventually the scribes saw other uses for this thing called writing. They experimented with ways of inscribing their oral epics and myths onto the clay. Writing could record what was said by the poet or sage. That record would be preserved unchanged through the years. It was a kind of magic that most sages hated because they feared it would soften their minds. After all, that which was recorded on clay did not need to be held in the memory. But Enoch was fascinated with writing. He wanted to adapt it into a tool for transmitting the dream visions he received from the deity. 

“Well? The Anzu got your tongue?” Yahipan growled with biting sarcasm. Anzu was a huge lion-faced bird with vicious talons.

Enoch’s stories would not be appreciated today. Today, all that mattered was the original use of writing for accounting records. 

“Forgive me, Yahipan,” said Enoch.

“Would you be pleased with a bloodbath?” said Yahipan.

“By no means, my lord,” said Enoch. “I am a man of peace and piety. I deplore violence, and I have sought to encourage the people to submit to the rule of the priest-king and your majesties.”

In truth, Enoch detested these Rephaim with all his being. They exploited the citizens with their tyrannical control and redistribution of wealth and food. But he was also a pacifist. He believed in submission to authority and would never encourage civil disobedience, let alone an uprising. Violence only led to more violence. He believed he should trust the gods and accept their decrees with steadfast faith. 

“In my lowly opinion, it seems evident that both the Nephilim and the citizenry have become dependent upon the government to care for them. It is most natural then for them to not care for themselves and to become hostile when their subsidies are taken away. Unfortunately, it seems to me that we are not up against a matter of political opinion, but of reality. The government is bankrupt. There is no more to give. We cannot spend what we do not have.”

“You call that blathering ‘wisdom’?” complained Yahipan. “I want a solution, not a contest of blame!”

Enoch frowned and then quickly banished it. This was not a contest of blame, these were the bald facts. All the other cities such as Erech, Eridu, and Larak faced these same facts. The strongest economic cities were all collapsing. The giants had been brought to all these cities to accomplish mighty feats of industry for the Rephaim. The purpose had been to glorify the gods and build an empire of power for the pantheon. But it had all gotten out of control. Now, the entire civilization was in jeopardy of collapsing. The giants were large, strong, warrior-like, and organized. They appointed leaders to press their demands upon the Rephaim rulers of all the cities. Revolution seemed inevitable. 

The victims in all this turmoil were the average citizens, the backbone of the civilization. These were the ones Enoch felt were exploited at the expense of this class warfare for power. The society appeared to be an advancement of civilization, but Enoch believed it moved toward the inevitable centralization of power into the hands of the elite priestly caste, of which he was one. It remained a point of contradiction in his conscience. 

His position made him privy to the myriad of government archives compiled by their scribes, registering every aspect of the lives of its citizens. Births, deaths, genealogies, land transfers, tax records, all were used to drain every ounce of income tax, land tax, head tax and death tax from every soul. 

It would seem that slaves, in comparison, had a less complicated life. At least they were called what they actually were. The average citizen became a slave without the name. He worked hard on his farm or in the marketplace, earned an honest wage to take care of his simple family, paid his taxes to the realm, worshiped his gods, and left others alone to seek their own happiness. This average man and his family had his life sucked out of him by taxes and government control, only to end his life in Sheol, forgotten and never to return. Was this the will of the gods? It made Enoch weep at night and question his devotion to the pantheon. He felt that he was a man stuck in the middle, trying to make both sides happy, the ruling elite of the gods, and the common citizens who served that divine council. He felt a miserable failure.

“Apkallu! Are you listening to me, maggot?!” Yahipan’s outburst brought Enoch back to the immediate moment. “I will whack your skull from your spine.” He raised his hand. 

Thamaq stopped him. “Brother, he is not worth your energy. We have been alerted to the facts by our servants. Let us withdraw to our chambers and determine our course of action.” 

Enmeduranki turned to Enoch. “Where is your son, the apprentice? If he is to become a sage, would not this situation be essential to his learning?”

“Forgive me, my lord,” replied Enoch. “If you will excuse me, I will go and brief him.” Enoch bowed and left the room. He did not even have the beginning of an idea where in the world his rascally son Methuselah was. But he had a good idea of who he might be with.

CHAPTER 7

Methuselah swung the pear-shaped mace down toward the skull of his adversary, a fifteen-year old girl named Edna. She raised her shield and blocked it effectively, then parried with her own mace.

He barked, “Excellent, runt!”

Methuselah was a strapping twenty-year old handsome young man. His unusual blue eyes often drew the teasing of his companions, saying that he was a Bene ha Elohim, or more likely a Naphil. It was not true, but he played along with it because he liked standing out from the crowd. He was a fiery lad with a passion for arguing, not the best of traits for an apkallu in training, since their order was marked by restraint and listening. But Methuselah hungered for knowledge, and loved to study and learn about everything.

At this moment, though, he was not learning. He was teaching. And it was not an intellectual exercise, but a physical one.

Edna swung again. He blocked her blow.

“Is that the best you can do, you scrawny little female?”

Methuselah burst into action, swinging one blow after another. Edna could barely keep up with the raining strikes. If she let one get through, it would leave a nasty bruise she would nurse for days. 

With each swing, Methuselah verbally challenged her strategy. “What did I teach you? Have you no counter plan? I am stronger than you, so how can you defeat me?”

With those last words, he backed her up against the wall of the small practice room, his mace to her neck. He had used sheer strength to overwhelm her. 

He leaned in close to her face and mused, “Now, if I was a particularly wicked soldier, having worn you down, I might take my pleasure before killing you.” He was not teasing her. He wanted her to face the reality of the world.

“Too late,” she said. He looked at her puzzled.

“Letting you expend your energy on me was my counter plan. While you were worn out and arrogantly crowing into my face with your horrible breath, I was gutting you,” she said.

He glanced down to see her hand with knife blade at his abdomen.

He smiled. “I am proud of you, Edna.” He kissed her forehead and turned to sit down for a rest.

To him, it was just a simple peck of affection. He did not notice that the soft swift touch of his lips upon her skin made her swoon. She gathered herself together and plopped down next to him. 

“Why do you talk mean to me while fighting?” she asked.

He smiled. “That is what warriors do. It is mental warfare. Wearing down the enemy inwardly as well as outwardly.”

“Oh, I see,” she said, and added playfully, “you ogre.”

He smiled at her. “You are hardly wet with sweat.” He was drenched from the exercise. 

“We women do not sweat, we glow.” Her look of serious reflection melted into shared laughter. 

“Edna,” he said, “You are amusing. You are a girl, yet you prefer the company and roughhousing of boys. You do not wear makeup or jewelry. You sneak around your superiors to learn sports and fighting — and you are good. You are really good. You are intellectually curious and you want to see the world, yet you are a temple virgin, dedicated to the gods.”

It was true. Edna was a spitfire boyish girl. Her serious expression returned in an instant. She brushed a strand of hair away from her face. It was a sole loose one that had come out of her otherwise usual tightly wrapped and bound hair bun. 

“Do not tease me, Methuselah. Girls have no choice in their placement in society. I do not want to be a boy, I just enjoy doing things that boys do. It is not that I do not have female desires as well.”

He laughed. “That would make you the perfect wife I guess.”

She thought to herself, Yes! And I would make you so happy.

He interrupted her thoughts. “Those female desires will soon be fulfilled when you engage in the Sacred Marriage rite with the god.”

She blushed through a moment of uncomfortable silence. 

“I wish I could be married to a normal man — like you.” 

She gulped. Did she say too much?

Methuselah looked at her seriously. “Me too, Pedna.” It was one of his many affectionate nicknames for her. He would call her “Edna Pedna,” so she had responded by calling him “Methuselah Poozelah,” and they eventually shortened them to Pedna and Poozela. 

His whole countenance changed from joy to sorrow. He knew the consequences of being betrothed to the gods. He knew the ultimate end of bearing the Nephilim offspring. It always bothered him. On the one hand, the gods were sovereign and had the right to their wives. Humans were, after all, slaves of the gods. But on the other hand, how could so gruesome a reality be part of a just world?”

“What happens to the child-bearers?”

“That is the prerogative of the gods,” he said. He could not bring himself to tell her. Instead, his silence and the look of dread on his face spoke loudly.

“Would you let them hurt me, Poozela?”

His heart nearly broke in two. He had been a big brother, even a father figure, to this girl ever since he noticed her special qualities and vivacious thirst for life as a mere ten-year old. He had secretly trained her to read cuneiform, fight with weapons, and reason like a sage. She now stood on the verge of her sixteenth birthday, and he was about to lose her forever. He struggled to hold back a flood of tears ready to burst. He did the only thing he could do. He deflected the question.

“We exist to serve the gods, not question them.”

It was the pious response, the proper answer, his duty. And he did not believe it for one second.

“Poozela.”

He kept staring out to space.

“Poozela?”

He looked into her eyes. He could not avoid her tender soul.

“That is not good enough.”

Methuselah was about to break completely apart.

The door suddenly burst open. Enoch and the priestess supervisor, a stout woman with a perpetual frown of dissatisfaction stood in the doorway. 

Methuselah and Edna froze.

“Edna, I told you to stop this silly interest in sports,” said the priestess. “You have your Sacred Marriage rite tomorrow and we need to test your makeup and try out the new dress!”

Enoch did not need as many words. “Methuselah.” 

Methuselah jumped to his feet and followed Enoch down the hallway back to their quarters in the palace.