Heaven trembled.
Not with fury.
Not yet.
But with the sharp stillness that follows a choice no one can take back.
Gabriel stood beside the Tree of Life, silent, his wings dimmed.
He didn't need a message from the Throne to know what was coming.
He felt it in the roots.
In the sky.
In the way the Garden itself began to withdraw from its inhabitants.
Adam and Eve
They sat beneath a fig tree, hearts pounding.
They had covered themselves with leaves.
But it wasn't the nakedness of the body that shamed them.
It was the knowing. The feeling of distance. Of absence.
The warmth they had always felt—in the wind, in the soil, in the light—was gone.
And then—
They heard His footsteps.
Not loud. Not angry.
Just... present.
And it filled the air with dread.
Lucifer
Far below, in the realm without a name, Lucifer stood upon a cliff of molten glass and ash, gazing upward.
He could feel it, like a tremor through his own spine.
The fruit had been eaten.
The fall had begun.
He exhaled.
No joy.
No rage.
Just... satisfaction.
They had chosen.
Not because he deceived them.
But because truth, once seen, cannot be unseen.
And they had reached for it.
Yahweh
The light of the Garden dimmed as He appeared—His form too radiant for description, too vast for metaphor.
Adam fell to his knees. Eve followed.
Neither dared speak.
Gabriel stood behind them.
Not part of the judgment.
But unable to leave.
Yahweh's voice was low, resonant, filled with sorrow.
"You have eaten of the fruit I commanded you not to touch."
Adam raised his head, eyes wet. "The woman—she gave it to me—"
Eve spoke quickly. "The serpent—he—"
"Enough."
The word stopped time.
The birds froze.
The wind halted.
Even the trees bowed.
"You were made in love," Yahweh said, "and gifted a world of peace. But you chose knowledge. And with it comes death, pain, and exile."
Eve's breath caught. "Will we die?"
"One day," He said.
Not as punishment.
As consequence.
Gabriel looked away.
He couldn't bear it.
Yahweh continued: "You must leave this place. Eden cannot hold what now knows shame."
He turned.
But before He vanished, He spoke again—not to them, but to Gabriel.
"Watch over them. Even in their darkness."
Gabriel blinked.
"…Me?"
"You were born for joy. Now carry mercy."
And then, He was gone.
Lucifer
He felt the veil open.
Felt the moment Adam and Eve were expelled.
Not by force—but by grief.
And he laughed—not in cruelty.
In awe.
"They know now," he whispered. "They know what it means to choose."
His wings curled around him as he gazed at the forming world.
The gates to Eden sealed.
The sword of fire set spinning.
And the long road of pain—and possibility—began.
He smiled.
And whispered:
"Now we see who they become."
Gabriel
He walked behind the two humans.
Their faces downturned.
Their footsteps hesitant.
But they did not weep.
Not yet.
He did.
Quietly.
They crossed the threshold of the Garden, never to return.
And Gabriel followed.
Not as a warden.
Not as a witness.
But as the only being who had watched two brothers fall…
…and refused to let a third.