The angel Elom wept over his wife’s broken body. Blood pattered to the floor from the straw mattress upon which she gave birth.
Birth? No. It was no birth.
She had simply … ruptured.
The child was a giant—a nephilim. It tore through its mother’s mortal flesh: first its hands, then its arms, then its head.
Elom lifted the child. Its eyelids opened to reveal empty sockets, hollow and black. Blind, the baby traced its fingers across Elom’s face, exploring.
Mouth. Nose. Cheeks.
Elom screamed as the baby gouged his eyes from their sockets … and pressed them into its own.
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