Chapter Text
The strong wind struck his face with such force that he trembled instantly. His legs shook, his feet raw and bleeding from the burning, sharp stones he trod upon, a terrible torture for him. The sun no longer filtered its light through protective leaves or tenderly tanned his skin. It beat down directly, relentlessly, like a blazing judgment. The air was thick, dry, and difficult to breathe. The heat burned the back of his neck, descended his spine like a cruel hand, and gathered at the base of his back, tensing every muscle until it was rigid. His skin felt taut, sweaty, and irritated by the constant rubbing of the dust.
His back ached from the weight of his exertion, from the forced posture of carrying what little they had. A deep, persistent pain spread from his shoulders to his hips. Every time he tried to straighten up, the sun seemed to punish him with even greater intensity.
Sweat trickled down his forehead, mingling with the dust and blurring his vision. His throat burned. The air stung as he inhaled it.
But he kept walking.
He didn't want to, he didn't want to keep walking. He wanted to lie down on the ground, let the earth do its work to him, return him to dust. But he wasn't going to let it be that simple; and he knew it very well, that even if he begged for mercy, he wouldn't receive it, not today.
His mind was focused on a flashback image of his beloved wife, Eve. She, so radiant and joyful, safe in the treasure cave that God had sent them to take refuge in temporarily—or perhaps permanently—had patiently asked him if he could get food for the week. Although he didn't want to, he reluctantly agreed. It was also Cain's birthday, so he had to bring him a present. Maybe that would take away the angry look he always wore.
Adam had been walking for hours when the sound reached him first: a deep, constant, powerful murmur. He looked up and there it was.
An immense river.
It wasn't the serene riverbed of Eden; it was wide, untamed, with swift waters that shone in the sun like a liquid expanse of white fire. Without thinking too much, he dropped what he was carrying, letting out a sigh of relief at the weight lessening on his back, and walked to the bank.
The water was surprisingly warm, perhaps from the sun's sudden appearance, which had heated the water molecules. Although it was definitely saltwater.
The contrast drew an involuntary sigh from him as he plunged his aching feet in. The burning sensation in his cracked soles subsided only slightly, as if the river were offering him a brief respite. He wanted to at least take a dip, and while he was at it, catch a fish or two; if he was lucky, he'd catch a hake.
He waded in until the water reached his knees and waited, motionless, with the patience that hunger teaches quickly. The fish were swift, silvery shadows that slipped through his clumsy fingers. He missed once. Twice. Three times.
He pressed his lips together and frowned in frustration. Sometimes he remembered how he hadn't had to do things like this before, nor had he had the need to kill his old friends, the animals. He would simply lie under a tree and the fruit would fall into his lap. But that was the past.
On the fourth try, his hands closed tightly around a slippery, living body. The fish thrashed violently, hitting his wrists, but Adam held it firmly until it stopped struggling.
He took a deep breath. He pulled the basket he had left near the bank to put in the prey he had caught. "Good, that's one. About 20 more, maybe. This week will be all fish. And if I'm lucky, maybe a chicken or a lamb." He hissed, stretching to relieve the tension in his tendons.
"What a... touching scene."
The voice came softly, wrapped in barely concealed amusement, provocatively, with a voluptuous whisper, interrupting the attempt at peace he'd been asking Adam for weeks.
Adam didn't need to turn around.
Lucifer sat on a high rock, immaculate as if the dust of the world didn't dare touch him. His white wings, though stained red and slightly damaged, lay spread with studied carelessness, and in his hands he held a fine crystal goblet that seemed utterly out of place in that wild landscape.
"The first man," he continued, "reduced to a fisherman."
Adam still remained in the water; he wasn't going to abandon his task for some fool. He began to draw out a stone spear coiled around an oak handle when he saw a huge fish swimming nearby, finally hooking it and casting it back into the basket. This action seemed like an attempt to impress Lucifer with his successful catch, but he wasn't doing it consciously. Even so, the action caused the king of Hell to raise an eyebrow.
"I must admit, your dedication is admirable. While some of us work in more... refined environments."
Nothing.
“Lilith and I had dinner this morning on a terrace overlooking an obsidian lake,” he continued lightly. “Aged wine. Fruits impossible to find here. Music by my dear Beelzebub—she loves music. I think you’d get along very well with her.”
Adam continued his hunt, catching two fish in the same go. Although they were smaller than the previous ones, it was more for him. He began to wonder where else he might find strawberries in the area. He could take some home, and perhaps, if his foot healed, he could gather honey.
Lucifer’s smile tightened slightly.
“Aren’t you curious?” he insisted. “I could describe it to you in detail. The marble. The fabrics. The gold.”
The other man continued his hunt until he took a break to dive deeper, almost scuba diving, upon seeing some beautiful precious stones. He could use them for the gift he had planned for Eve.
“You work hard,” Lucifer added, descending from the rock with feline grace. “Sun. Dust. Cracked skin. Must be… exhausting.”
Lucifer took another step closer.
“Me, on the other hand, sleep on silk.”
Nothing. Adam was too preoccupied with his family, Cain’s gifts, tonight’s dinner, hoping Abel and Cain wouldn’t start fighting again and bring a pack of hungry wolves after their foolishness like yesterday.
Lucifer’s jaw tightened with irritation.
“Is that all?” he asked, his tone losing its lightness. “Silence?”
The first man finally let out a gasp, however much he tried to appear infallible. A furious blush spread across Adam’s cheeks, and he unconsciously pouted. Thank goodness Lucifer didn’t see his expression; he probably would have laughed at him.
Lucifer felt the sting of that indifference more keenly than any insult.
"You could have had more," he spat seductively, though it was his arrogant nature that made him speak that way. "Power. Comfort. Her."
For some reason, that statement elicited a sharp laugh from Adam's chest. It was fleeting, but undeniably loud, quickly followed by another when he realized he couldn't even raise his hand to muffle the sound. "Really? Are you serious? You did me a favor by taking her. If I'd been with her, I would never have known my dear Eve or my children."
Oh, that tone of voice delighted Lucifer's ears.
He moved dangerously close to him, flapping his wings even though he was still in the water. He tried to back away, but Lucifer stopped him, grabbing his forearm. "Aww, I didn't know you'd gotten a little shy over time. Where did the stubborn Adam go who wasn't afraid to kick me?"
Adam clicked his tongue, finally resolved to go to the shore. Anything to maintain a good distance from his intruder who wanted to ruin his day.
"Are you leaving?" he asked lightly, his tone almost broken, as if his actions mattered to him again. "I thought you'd enjoy my company."
Lucifer walked around him, too close. His fingers grazed the small of Adam's back, barely a fleeting touch. He hated this part of him; he knew well that the fallen angel loved physical affection. He vaguely remembered how he used to stalk him for hours just to feel that human touch he was so addicted to for some reason, perhaps because no one even offered him a "good morning" in Heaven.
"Your skin is burning," he murmured, narrowing his eyes, inspecting Adam's body more closely. To tell the truth, he had gained weight. But in a positive way, perhaps. In Eden he had been thinner; now his body was full of muscles and scars. At least now he looks more manly, although his eyes... they've lost their sparkle. A shame, that was the only thing Lucifer liked about him. —The sun isn't merciful to you.
Another step.
A light tap with his knuckles on the arm, almost playful.
"Does it hurt?"
Adam took a deep breath. He didn't answer. He arranged his things to continue walking, though he would have been better off taking a nap earlier.
Lucifer clicked his tongue with amusement.
"I miss when you were more reactive."
A gentle push against his shoulder.
Provocative.
Adam barely turned, but looked straight ahead again.
Lucifer followed. He gave him another touch, this time on the chest, as if testing his resistance. Then a tap on the back, right where he knew the pain was most intense from the walk and the weight. His fingers trailed down Adam's side again, a slow, deliberate touch. It wasn't violent. It was invasive. The river continued to roar behind them.
Another push.
Firmer.
Adam stopped dead in his tracks.
His shoulders rose with a deep breath. His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white. The heat of the day seemed to concentrate now in his chest, in his throat.
Lucifer took another step, too close.
"Were you exhausted from fishing?" he whispered, leaning closer to his ear. "Or is your conscience just weighing on you?"
It was the final touch. A light, almost mocking tap on the back of his neck.
Adam whirled around.
"STOP!"
The shout ripped through the air. Lucifer's eyes widened in surprise, and instinctively he backed away.
"Stop touching me. Stop pushing. Stop looking for a fight where there isn't one."
Lucifer stood still.
For a second, his smile faltered.
Adam stepped forward, now invading the space.
"Not everything revolves around you," he continued, his voice still tense but firm. "I'm not going to hit you to entertain you. I'm not going to react every time you want to test something."
Lucifer slowly lowered the hand that had still been suspended in the air. A slight curve at the corner of his mouth, barely suggested. Then the other followed, rising with calculated precision.
It's no secret that our beloved king of Hell enjoyed driving the first man crazy. He almost never did this, not with the Seven Deadly Sins, nor with his wife. It was something only between them, something he only did with one person in particular: Adam.
"Ah," he murmured. "So you can scream after all."
The difference in height led the first man to lean forward slightly so the contact would be closer, so their bodies would be intimately near. The demon had a scent of smoke, ethanol, and something deceptively sweet; it utterly repulsed him, causing a tickling in his gut, churning his stomach. He didn't smell bad, but it was simply an unfamiliar scent. Looking closely, I noticed how much his eyes had changed; now they were sharp, more oval than anything else, like a jaguar's. And his smile was like a piranha's, pointed and menacing. Well, now I was starting to feel a little afraid.
"I want you to leave," he confessed, not as a plea, but as an order. "I want you gone. I don't want to see your face, not even in my dreams. I don't want to think about you. I want you to leave and promise me you'll never come back, because I swear..." he emphasized with a threatening undertone, grabbing the crown of Lucifer's robes and pulling him towards him, forcing him onto his tiptoes. "I'LL KILL YOU."
"I'm immortal. You can't kill me."
That was what bothered Adam, wanting to kill him; but he knew he couldn't do anything. Finally, he let go and left, ignoring the devil's words, who finally fell silent as he disappeared among the trees.
(...)
He doesn't remember how his descent into madness truly began. What started as a simple obsession became something more. It became the driving force of Lucifer's life, or perhaps a pastime when Lilith wanted space, fueling him as he grew and became wiser, discovering how cruel and perverse the world was; a rather unhealthy way to vent his frustrations. It made him want to follow in Adam's footsteps, to pursue and harass him in any way possible. From the gentlest games, like throwing branches at him as he passed through the trees, to the most serious, like stealing his food or provoking the beasts of the megafauna to corner him in extreme situations; surprisingly, Adam emerged alive in all of them, not unscathed, but alive. And with lovely scars that he showed off to his sons.
Ah, Cain and Abel. The sons of Adam. And Eve.
Cain was an exact copy of his father, but with his mother's temperament. Abel looked more like his mother; they even had matching hairstyles. But he had his father's personality, the one he had in Eden. Aside from the fact that he was a bit of a fool, he was easily amazed and loved new things.
The boys were very energetic, although Lucifer had noticed earlier that the older one seemed to have a certain aversion when his younger brother got too close to their father. Interesting behavior, Lucifer found. Interestingly, that brother was always trying to get Adam's attention, but the problem was that he did stupid things in the process.
He could handle it.
(...)
Months later. The man clawed at the earth, his fingers raw and bleeding, though he felt neither the pain nor the cold rain that lashed against his pale skin. The pain in his chest overshadowed everything, radiating to every inch of his enormous body, leaving him empty and trembling. Adam's golden-yellow eyes, surrounded by dark, tired circles, were fixed on the ground as he worked.
The weather, as always, was cruel to him. It whipped at his cedar-brown hair, causing strands to stick haphazardly to his skin. His chin, covered by a nascent beard, trembled with each exhalation, a ragged breath that seemed to tear at his soul. Earth and blood adorned his knuckles when he finally finished digging the hole.
Weakly, even in denial of what lay before him, he lifted the lifeless body of his son from the arms of his own mother, who still sobbed on the ground. Although the aggressive rain was becoming more prominent, neither of them sought shelter, not until Abel was buried.
Adam didn't cry when he was completely dead. He couldn't cry; perhaps he was in terrible shock seeing blood that wasn't his or Eve's from childbirth for the first time. Blood everywhere; he could swear he could see his son's skull.
He squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he could and pursed his lips fearfully, carefully placing the body in the hole to finally fill it in as the angels had instructed him. Finally, he placed a small bouquet of flowers to complete the wake.
With great willpower, he stood up and dragged Eve to the cave. Even though she kicked and screamed her son's name in desperation. With no other choice, he took her in his arms, trying to calm her until she finally gave in and let herself be tamed.
"It's okay... there, there..." he managed to say in a rough voice, attempting to comfort her by stroking her cheek as he laid her down in the nest they had previously made. "You need to rest, it won't be good for..."
"Stop," she snapped, turning away. "No... I don't want to talk about it..." she confessed haltingly, curling into a ball, pressing her knees to her chest, still sobbing and with tears in her eyes.
Adam thought it best if he went outside for a while to clear his head.
The rain, which had started as a light drizzle, began to intensify as soon as he crossed the threshold of the cave. The sky darkened suddenly, and the rain fell heavy, cold, relentless, much more so than before. It was no longer the gentle rain that caressed her skin, but a cascade of blades that made her shudder as she walked.
She took a few unsteady steps on the earth that was already beginning to turn to mud.
And she screamed.
A deep, anguished scream, born from a primal and brutal place. It was neither dignified nor restrained. It was raw.
"WHY?!"
The rain lashed her face, mingling with tears that now flowed uncontrollably. Her eyes burned. Her throat stung.
"HE WAS MY SON!"
Her voice broke, but she didn't stop.
She cursed the sky. She cursed the earth. She cursed her own blood. The words came out clumsily, broken, heavy with rage and guilt. Water ran down the slope, forming small streams that began to flood the lower area. The ground gave way beneath his feet.
His vision blurred with each step he took; he didn't know where he was going, but it wasn't as if he cared at this point. Did anything here make sense? He was supposed to be the father of humanity; he was supposed to have taken better care of them, should have noticed Cain's signs. Perhaps he should have spent more time with him; he was too attached to him, too fond of him, but since Abel was the youngest, all the necessary and reasonable attention had to be for him. Thinking of him, he also wanted to reproach himself for that. Cain was still alive, yes. But now he was banished; he didn't know where they took him. His mind remained fixed on Abel's motionless body, who hadn't noticed the angels dragging Cain deep into the forest. Maybe they killed him. Maybe they sent him to hell with Lucifer and Lilith. He didn't know, but he feared the worst.
His blood still ran cold at the memory of Cain's words, tears of regret welling in his eyes, his pupils trembling like his chest, his hands bloodied, and a terrifying, disturbing smile echoing on his lips in a deep, resonant voice—or at least that's how Adam perceived it: "Now I'm your favorite, Daddy?"
Then came Eve, who pushed Cain aside to slide onto Abel's body, scraping her knees on the barren earth. The rest, he didn't quite remember.
But it hurt, it hurt horribly.