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Sede, Seed of Eden Volume 2. von Nennemann, Kathleen (eBook)

  • Erscheinungsdatum: 27.03.2015
  • Verlag: BookBaby
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Sede, Seed of Eden

Sede barely escaped captivity with her life! Alone in the forest she clutches 'Eden's Seed'. Behind her is the Nephilim who loved her and died for her, before her awaits Shem who lives to love her. The world she once knew has changed and will never be the same. The flood that Noah had foreseen will happen and a momentum begins as the great ark is finished. Corrupted mankind, along with the fallen angels and their Nephilim sons, are about to be engulfed by the heavy hand of judgment. All that live on the earth experience the first drop of rain and then the undeniable deluge of power and fury, as the fountains of the deep are broken up and the windows of heaven opened to cover the earth. Safe within the ark Sede and her family wait, knowing that Yahweh has a plan for mankind and it is to begin with them. A new world gives way to life and their small village takes root, becoming 'heaven on earth'. But just as it was in the old world, beauty and innocence become marred. Through the defiant choices of Ham everything changes leading to a confrontation on the tower of Babel. Though tried and tested the 'Seed of Eden' sprouts, takes root, and blooms before Sede's very eyes. The seed that will change the world!

Produktinformationen

    Format: ePUB
    Kopierschutz: AdobeDRM
    Seitenzahl: 328
    Erscheinungsdatum: 27.03.2015
    Sprache: Englisch
    ISBN: 9781483552804
    Verlag: BookBaby
    Größe: 426kBytes
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Sede, Seed of Eden

Chapter 1 Sede's Comfort The forest was quiet; not a song of bird or rustle of leaf. All that could be heard was the sound of Sede's breathing and soft footsteps as she walked the path before her. The deer trail wound and turned, leading higher into the mountain wilderness. There she would find the answers her heart yearned for. She clutched Eden's seed to her chest while tears blurred her vision. She stumbled, but pulling herself up, pressed forward. Playtheus was gone and she would never see him again. Oh, to never again hear the sound of his voice or the touch of his hand; never to see the softness in his eyes as they searched hers. Pain pierced her heart at the thought. She longed to smell the scent of his fragrant oil. Inhaling, she could almost smell it, only to stumble on her feet from the hot tears that filled her eyes. Holding her hands to her face she slumped to the ground and wept, emotions of loss overwhelming her. Her turmoil was unbearable. She had watched Playtheus die before her very eyes from the spear that was intended for her. She had witnessed his body lie lifeless upon the ceremonial altar and sang her people's "Love Song for the Dead". Ba-nea had breathed a prayer in her ear at their parting. Now she was alone in the forest. She knew that she could never return to her village until she found her heart once more, and peace within. She exhaled and stood, forcing herself to move on. Her head was pounding with grief and she tried to clear her mind. It was getting dark and she knew she must find a place to rest for the night. A twig snapped and she darted a quick glance in its direction. To her relief it wasn't danger. There, not a stone's throw away, was a small cave. 'Yahweh has prepared a place for me,' she thought. She paused and closed her eyes, listening to the forest. All her senses honed in to hear, making the forest sounds come alive. The wind gently swayed the trees above her, calming her in a strange but loving way. The soft sound of a running brook was nearby. The evening call of the turtledove echoed from far away. With an exhale she knew she needed to kindle a fire and began to silently gather wood. Suddenly, she burst into tears once more, pain and sorrow rising again and beating on her tender heart. She cried and cried, crying until the fatigue of weeping drained her. She curled up next to the fire and fell asleep, wrapped safely in Ba-nea's cloak. The rest that came relieved the exhaustion that had overwhelmed her. When she woke early the next morning she resolved to press higher up the mountain. Something was calling her to go higher and higher. After climbing for several hours, she found a vantage point that overlooked the vast lands in the distance. Far, far below was her village and the river as it ran to the south. Mighty herds that looked like specks of dust moved as they searched for grazing pastures. If only she could see her life from a vantage point like this. Oh, how good that would be. Searching the forest floor, she found a long, narrow branch of the petra tree. Its wood was smooth as stone and just as hard. She was thankful that when it broke from the tree it had left a sharp point. She now had a hunting weapon. After spearing a small dworta she prepared a fire. As she watched the flames a pleasure rose within her. She sensed the forest world around her-this world of the hunt, a place she understood. The wind swaying in the trees, water rippling over smooth stones in a brook nearby, the snap and pop of the fire-they all spoke the language she knew. The dworta satisfied and renewed her strength, and lying down once more by her fire, she fell into restful sleep. For the next two weeks she hunted and rested. And as each day passed, she felt restored in spirit. She allowe

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