The blade, a living whirlwind of blinding light, pirouetted between the two guardians. Beyond it lay the Garden, lush and fragrant, tantalizingly visible yet forever out of reach.

Lumiel, bathed in his own radiance, stood with wings outstretched. Jophiel knelt beside a single, unblemished rose, mirroring its perfect beauty.

In the distance, a young shepherd sat cross-legged, his gaze fixed in the angels’ direction. He was tending to his sheep. He sought not conversation, but simply to bask in the presence of the divine.

Lumiel and Jophiel, sensing his pure intention, allowed their forms to shimmer into full view. Abel’s breath caught in his throat. 

“Fear not,” Lumiel’s voice resonated, gentle yet powerful. “We are but guardians of Eden.”

“My name is Lumiel,” the radiant angel continued, “and this is Jophiel.”

“Lumiel… Jophiel…” Abel whispered, the names like music on his lips.

“Lumiel, ‘Light of God’,” Jophiel explained, his voice a soothing balm. “And I am Jophiel, ‘Beauty of God’.”

Abel nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes. “It is an honour to be in your presence.”

“Honour be to God, highly favoured boy” they said in unison.

But as time trickled on, contact with humans became increasingly rare and fraught. Idols of stone and wood sprouted like weeds, casting twisted shadows on the earth. Lustful eyes sought fleeting pleasures, while greedy hands clutched at ill-gotten gains. The stench of blood, spilled in anger and envy, fouled the air.

Until one day, a man with eyes as old as time itself stood before them. “Peace be upon you,” he intoned.

Jophiel recognized the faithful servant’s aura. “Melchizedek, God’s blessing be upon you.”

He recounted how whispers had replaced truth. Newcomers had arrived, their silver tongues spinning tall tales.

“We come bearing knowledge,” they declared to the unsuspecting folk, eyes gleaming with ambition. “We, too, once walked in that garden.”

As time passed, the newcomers saturated the land with tales of heroism, of luminous fruits that granted power. They pointed to their towering offspring, the Nephilim, as proof.

Eventually, they gathered crowds, whipping them into a frenzy. “We must reclaim Eden!” they cried, brandishing weapons. They marched towards the garden’s entrance.

Lumiel’s wings flared, a radiant shield. Jophiel’s gaze turned steely, his beauty now a weapon of divine wrath.

The newcomers hung back, observing the chaos they had sown. They watched as Lumiel’s light scattered the attackers, as Jophiel’s presence instilled a primal fear.

“Fools,” one sneered, watching the chaos with a devilish grin. “So easily led…”

The sword danced on, a silent witness. Lumiel and Jophiel remained, guardians not just of a garden, but of the truth the newcomers sought to corrupt.

There was a second attack, then a third… Then a revelation struck. The newcomers, so eager to lead others into battle, never marched themselves. Their giant offspring, supposedly born of stolen fruit, were a cruel deception too.

They were not heroes, but the offspring of the fallen, demi-humans who couldn’t hold a candle to Eden’s guardians.

Despite this revelation, the fallen angels’ poison seeped deep. Humanity soon turned on itself with renewed fervour. Violent competition became the norm. The fallen and their offspring became the new leaders, then they, too, fought amongst themselves.

Lumiel and Jophiel, their hearts heavy with sorrow, watched the unfolding tragedy.

The garden, once a symbol of paradise, became even less than a vague, yet bitter memory.

Lumiel and Jophiel remained, their light dimmed but not extinguished. They were guardians not just of a garden, but of a memory, and a hope that things would one day return to what they were supposed to be.

This was part 2 of a 3-part story.

Part 1 is here

Part 3 here