The manuscript before me opens to chapter seventy-one. The Ge'ez script flows across the vellum in a hand older than any surviving monastery library in Ethiopia. And the first sentence of that chapter states what should be impossible. The sun passes through four great gates each day. Four of them. Every single day. And one of those gates, the text is explicit, its wind carries fire.

This is the Book of Enoch. Not the Genesis creation story. Not the Genesis genealogy. The other book. The one that opens with Watchers descending from heaven and closes with Enoch carried upward through seven layers of the sky. The one excluded from every major canon except the Ethiopian Orthodox tradition. The one recovered in more fragments from Cave Four at Qumran than most books now considered scripture. More copies of the Book of Enoch turned up in the Judean Desert than copies of Daniel. That is the first fact the record insists on before it says anything else.