It was an inconceivable garden of deserts, oceans, jungles and mountains, and creatures of every shape and color moved through it. It was a garden of constant change, the unending death and rebirth of perfection. Eve wandered within a valley redolent with blossoms and fruits, and she reached up to touch a leafy branch. A shiver ran through her.

Now Adam stood before Eve. A recognition without a source, something that spoke through the shine in their eyes, made them reach out to each other. An inside force drew them together. But something made them pause.

It felt like a wind within them. When they stepped apart it receded to an unsettling breeze, and when they moved closer it was like a hurricane. Eve clung to something, a deep, unfathomable memory of glory which fluttered like a sheet snagged on a tree. And so they stood there, trapped between destiny and the divine. But time marched on and destiny followed.

The wind rose by degrees. First it was a solitary whistle climbing to a higher pitch. Then it seemed like a choir of angels. It grew into a storm of trumpets and thundering drums until it felt like mountains of ice and steel were crashing down upon them. In a final, furious moment, something was torn loose.

The glorious vision was forgotten. She touched his face. He ran his hand along her arm. A distant sadness passed between them, a strangely passionate despair. But somewhere in their eyes, hidden within that peculiar shine, was a sparkling corner of that divine memory. Like a lighthouse standing alone at the edge of the inky sea, it winked along the horizon of their minds.