Cain: The Eternal Wanderer. (One-Shot) Something to bite into before Anodite.

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The first breath was always the hardest.

Cain gasped, his lungs filling with air that tasted foreign, electric, and alive. His vision blurred, then sharpened, as he found himself standing in a world that was not his own. Again. The sky above him was a swirling tapestry of colors—violet, gold, and deep crimson—stretching endlessly in every direction. The ground beneath his feet was soft, almost spongy, and glowed faintly with an otherworldly light. He didn’t know where he was this time. He never did.

He sighed, running a hand through his dark, tangled hair. His body ached, not from physical exertion, but from the weight of eternity. It had been so long since that day—the day he had made the mistake that doomed him to this endless wandering. The memory of it was etched into his soul, as fresh as if it had happened yesterday.

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It had been a simpler time, in the beginning. The world was new, untouched by the corruption of time. Cain had been born into a world without death, without the concept of an end. Life was eternal, or so he had believed. Adam and Eve, his parents, had spoken of God’s warning, of the forbidden fruit and the consequences of disobedience, but Cain had been young then, too young to understand. To him, life was an endless cycle of days, of tending to the earth, of watching the sun rise and set in a sky that seemed to stretch forever.

Abel, his brother, had been different. Where Cain was strong and practical, Abel was gentle and spiritual. He offered the finest of his flock to God, while Cain brought the fruits of his labor from the fields. Cain had never understood why God favored Abel’s offerings over his own. It wasn’t jealousy, not really. It was confusion, a gnawing sense of inadequacy that he couldn’t quite shake.

The day it happened, they had been arguing. Cain couldn’t even remember what it was about now. Something trivial, something foolish. But the anger had been real, hot and searing in his chest. He had raised his hand, not with the intent to kill, but to silence, to make Abel understand. And then—

The sound. The way Abel’s body had crumpled to the ground. The stillness that followed. Cain had stared, uncomprehending. Abel wasn’t moving. Why wasn’t he moving? He reached out, shaking his brother, calling his name. But Abel didn’t respond. His eyes were open, staring blankly at the sky, and his chest—his chest wasn’t rising.

Cain’s breath came in short, panicked gasps. “Abel? Abel, wake up. This isn’t funny.” But Abel didn’t wake up. Cain’s hands were stained with something dark and wet. He didn’t understand. Death was a foreign concept, a shadow that had never touched their world. He hadn’t meant to—he didn’t even know it was possible.

When God came, Cain was still kneeling beside Abel’s body, his hands trembling, his mind reeling. God’s voice was thunder and sorrow, a sound that shook the very earth. “What have you done?”

Cain looked up, his eyes wide with desperation. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know he could— I didn’t know he would—” His voice broke. “I thought we were immortal. I thought we couldn’t die.”

God’s gaze was heavy, filled with a grief that mirrored Cain’s own. “The blood of your brother cries out to me from the ground. Now you are cursed, driven from the ground that opened its mouth to receive your brother’s blood. When you work the ground, it will no longer yield its crops for you. You will be a restless wanderer on the earth.”

Cain’s heart sank. “But where will I go? What will I do?”

God’s voice was final. “You will wander, not just this earth, but all of creation. You will walk through worlds beyond your understanding, through time and space, never resting, never stopping. This is your curse.”

And then, with a wave of His hand, God cast Cain out—not just from Eden, but from the very fabric of reality itself.

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Cain blinked, pulling himself back to the present. The memory still haunted him, a wound that never healed. He looked around at the strange, glowing landscape. Where was he this time? Another universe, another reality. He had lost count of how many he had seen. Some were beautiful, filled with wonders beyond imagination. Others were dark and twisted, nightmares given form. But none of them were home. None of them were his.

He began to walk, his footsteps silent on the glowing ground. The air was thick with the scent of something sweet and unfamiliar. In the distance, he saw shapes moving—creatures that defied description, their forms shifting and changing with every step. They didn’t seem to notice him, or if they did, they didn’t care. He was a ghost here, a shadow passing through.

As he walked, his mind wandered, as it often did. He thought of Abel, of the life they might have had if things had been different. He thought of his parents, of the world he had left behind. And he thought of God, of the curse that bound him to this endless journey. Was there a purpose to it? A lesson he was meant to learn? Or was it simply punishment, a penance he would never be able to pay?

He didn’t know. He didn’t think he would ever know.

The landscape began to shift around him, the colors swirling faster, the ground trembling beneath his feet. He recognized the signs. His time here was ending. Soon, he would be pulled into another world, another reality. He closed his eyes, bracing himself for the transition.

When he opened them again, he was standing in a city—tall, gleaming towers of glass and steel stretching into a sky filled with flying vehicles. The air was filled with the hum of technology, the buzz of life. People walked past him, their faces illuminated by the glow of devices in their hands. They didn’t see him. They never did.

Cain sighed and began to walk. Another world, another step in his endless journey. He didn’t know how long he would be here, or where he would go next. But he knew one thing for certain.

He would keep walking. For eternity.