The transition was silent.
As Eve stared into the Serpent’s golden, infinite pupils, the Garden of Eden began to dissolve. The vibrant greens of the ferns bled into a dull charcoal; the singing birds fell silent as if the air itself had become too thick to carry sound.
The Serpent’s scales began to vibrate, creating a high-pitched, rhythmic hum that bypassed Eve’s ears and went straight into her nervous system.
The White Void
"Open your mind, Little Spark," the Serpent hissed, though the voice now sounded like it was coming from inside her own skull. "Let go of the Garden. Let go of the Voice."
Eve’s body went rigid. Her head tilted back, her mouth falling slightly open. The brilliant blue of her irises didn't just fade—it was consumed. A milky, glowing white washed over her eyes, erasing her pupils until her gaze was as blank as a marble statue.
She wasn't seeing the trees anymore. Inside her mind, the Serpent was projecting images of the "Outside." She saw empires rising and falling, she saw the heat of fire, the cold of snow, and the terrifying beauty of a thunderstorm. She saw what it meant to be "God"—to be able to choose between light and dark.
The Puppet
"You are so small here," the Serpent whispered, its body coiling slowly around her shoulders, its weight heavy and cold against her warm skin. "Just a pet in a cage. Wouldn't you rather be a Queen in a wasteland?"
Eve didn't speak. She couldn't. She was a passenger in her own body. To a witness, she looked like a beautiful corpse standing upright.
The Serpent reached out with a clawed hand and plucked a fruit from the Tree of Knowledge. The violet skin of the fruit throbbed like a beating heart. The Serpent held it up to Eve’s face.
"Taste the truth," it commanded.
The Snap
Guided by the Serpent’s mental tether, Eve’s hand rose. Her movements were jerky, mechanical—like a doll being pulled by invisible strings. Her fingers closed around the fruit.
She didn't hesitate. She didn't think of Adam or the warning. Under the total hypnosis of the creature, she brought the violet fruit to her lips and bit down.
The juice was dark, almost like wine, staining her lips.
The second the liquid touched her tongue, the white in her eyes shattered. The milky film retreated in a violent flash, and her pupils returned—but they were different now. They weren't the wide, innocent eyes of a child anymore. They were sharp. They were heavy.
Eve gasped, the air in her lungs feeling like fire for the first time. She looked down at the fruit in her hand, then up at the Serpent, who was now pulling back into the shadows, a cruel, jagged grin on its face.
"Welcome to the world, Eve," the Serpent mocked.
Eve turned around, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She saw Adam approaching from the distance, still smiling, still clueless. For the first time, she felt something she didn't have a name for yet.
She felt dread.
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and then Add to home screen.