The Ways of the Fay

Innocence Lost in the Garden

For the four children, it seemed that the garden was there for them. This newly formed Earth with tropical fern forest, fields of flowers, waterways lined with leafy plants and abundant wild food was paradise made for their delight. In the center of their world was the Geneses Tree – a giant, white, coral-like tree with spongy bark, dark yellow leaves, and large, hanging fruit. Within its flared canopy, a winged iridescent basilisk was draped in the thick, open branches.

The Tree was sacred - it created all life. The children watched when a soft yellow fruit fell to the ground. Different creatures would emerge, breaking open the leathery skin of the fruit. Each fruit created pairs of animals with fur, scales, or wings; or plants with leaf, frond, or creeping slime. They clapped their small hands with exuberance to welcome them. The basilisk with primitive sounds and head gestures told the children where to place the plants or animals for their best survival. As creatures multiplied, the planet changed from a silent wasteland with just the wind shushing over the rocky landscape, to a lively place of animal songs, leaf rustling, and buzzing insects.

The serpent watched over the garden and the three girls and one boy - or so it seemed. The basilisk had a secret. At night, it would make sure the children were sleeping then fly from the Tree to hunt. The children needed to be innocent and trusting. They were the basilisk's servants, the tenders for the garden.

As the children grew into teenagers, they knew all the plants and animals of the garden and where to find food. But the garden and the basilisk needed care, for everything had been eaten all around the Tree, and the children had to go farther and farther to find food. It was now time for their initiation to learn the ways of tending the garden.

But was a greater change coming. The basilisk sniffed her belly where a hard-scaled budge of eggs developed. They need to mature for one more season before the mating flight above the atmosphere. She mournfully nudged the blue hard-plated scale aside and gently placed her lips around an egg from her sack. She would sacrifice this one egg for the human youths to become intelligent enough to be her servants. She hesitated, trying not to think about the life that would not come from this egg. She mournfully bit into it, chomping it into pieces. Its purple gelatinous sphere separated into wiggly chunks. Her long neck reached to the ground as she offered the pieces of her egg to the human teens. The youths picked up the shimmering jelly in their hands. They sniffed it and looked quizzically at the basilisk. The basilisk let out a snort from her large nose, motioning for them to eat. The basilisk coiled back into the Tree and waited, knowing that their curiosity would compel them eventually to eat the novel egg. This was always a difficult boundary to cross; expanding the minds of simpleton servants so that they could be more useful. She hummed a tune under her breath. A sacred song all dragons sang to memorize the many problems with introducing the humans to the fruit of thinking. The serpent would have to watch them carefully now to notice any signs of advanced deduction before it became a problem. They needed to be intelligent but not too intelligent.

The young women dutifully ate the fruit, but the male held back until the rest had eaten. He looked at the last piece, it was the biggest piece. He picked it up, sniffed it, and slowly ate it. It took but half of the arc of the sun to have them begin to use language. The first word they uttered was calling to the basilisk. The word was Moma, lovingly naming the serpent. It touched the serpent's cold but not unfeeling heart. The serpent smiled a many-layered grin. The humans were delightful, but also delicious. The real name of the serpent was Auror. She was a highly respected, deep-space, genesis carrier. An honored position, it would lead her to power if the planet became one of the many dragon colonies.

Auror nodded at the young gardeners. "Alright, Moma it is. Do you now understand me? Shake your heads if you do. Good." Auror slid down the tree and examined the youths closely and with hissing lisp she said. "Now, let's give you names so there will be no confusion. You little yellow one, I'll call you Eve after the murky river that waters this valley. Boy, you will be called Adam after the hard earth and you tall one with red hair, let's call you Danu after the red star. As for you dark one, I will call you Lilith after the far reaches of space."