Chapter 4: First Drop of Blood

Sin at the Door

The fire fell from heaven.

Abel’s offering was consumed, the flames devouring the firstborn lamb upon the altar. The scent of the burnt sacrifice rose into the sky, a pleasing aroma before the Lord.

Cain’s offering remained untouched.

The fruit of his labor—grain, produce, all he had drawn from the earth with his own hands—lay there, cold and lifeless. No fire came for it. No sign of acceptance.

Cain’s jaw tightened. His breath grew heavy as he turned toward his brother.

Abel knelt before his altar, eyes closed in reverence, his face bathed in the glow of the dying flames. He did not speak. He did not gloat. He merely worshiped.

Cain’s fingers twitched.

Why?

Night fell, and the fields lay silent.

Cain sat alone by the remains of his altar, his hands curled into fists. The offering still lay there, untouched and cold.

A voice slithered through the darkness, smooth as silk.

“Why did He not accept you?”

Cain stiffened.

“You worked harder than your brother. You tilled the land, fought against the thorns, labored under the scorching sun.”

A whisper curled around him like smoke.

“And yet, He favors Abel.”

Cain’s fingers twitched.

“What has Abel done to deserve it? He watches his sheep, sings his songs, and kneels as though that is enough.”

Cain’s breath grew unsteady.

“Is this justice?”

The voice was soft, yet insistent.

“He sees Abel, but not you.”

The whisper turned to a low hiss.

“You toil, and you are forgotten. You are nothing in His eyes.”

Cain’s eyes burned with rage.

A gentle voice stirred in his soul, faint yet firm.

“Sin crouches at the door, and it desires you. But you must master it.”

Cain gritted his teeth. His hands shook.

“You can change this.”

His fingers curled tighter into fists.

“If Abel were gone, there would be no one left to overshadow you.”

The night air was cold against his skin, but inside, Cain burned.

And in the darkness, unseen, Satan smiled.

The Killing of Brothers

The morning sun rose over the fields, casting golden light across the land. The world was silent, unaware that it was about to witness its first act of murder.

Cain stood at the edge of his fields, staring at his brother. Abel, ever trusting, had followed him into the wilderness without question. His eyes, clear and full of quiet faith, searched Cain’s face.

“What is it, brother?” Abel asked, his voice gentle.

Cain did not answer. His hands clenched at his sides. His breath was heavy. His mind burned with a single thought.

A heavy stone lay at his feet.

For a moment, he hesitated.

You can change this.

The whisper slithered through his mind, as smooth as the serpent’s voice in Eden.

Cain bent down, fingers wrapping around the rough edges of the stone. He lifted it high.

Abel’s eyes widened, but he did not run.

The stone crashed down.

Blood splattered onto the dry earth, seeping into the ground like ink upon parchment.

Abel collapsed, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His body shuddered once, then stilled.

His eyes remained open, gazing upward toward the sky.

Cain staggered backward, his chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. The stone slipped from his grasp, landing beside his brother’s lifeless form.

In the distance, the wind whined, as if mourning.

The earth fell silent.