Adam the First

A Tale of Three Tales

Greetings, one and all! So glad of you to join me on this journey of new and greater proportions!

As I've said, this is a complete revival and revision of my past story, "The First Son."

However, the twist here is that this work is basically a crossover with another fandom that many of you would already know.

This is an Ever After High x Hazbin Hotel collaboration on my part. Although, this story is more EAH than HH, however many elements from each other show will intersect and inevitably paint the tapestry of this story's trajectory.

So, sit back, relax, and enjoy the show!

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

He could feel the cold, sharpened edge of the blade pierce deeper into his flesh, the searing pain cutting through him like fire. The divine dagger, blessed by the heavens themselves, tore through his body with a cruelty reserved for the ancient and powerful. His primordial essence, once thought indomitable, offered no defense against the weapon designed to smite the wicked, and — to his utter disbelief — also those deemed worthy and pure. His voice, which had once dripped with hate and disgust, now faltered as the agony surged through his veins, burning with an intensity unlike any he had ever experienced.

"No... this can't be..." His shouts, once booming with centuries of defiance and unyielding rage, faded into desperate whispers. The words that had once carried the weight of millennia now emerged hollow, drained of the venom that had fueled him for so long. Reality crashed down upon him, heavy and unforgiving, as the truth settled in.

He was dying.

The concept of death had long since become foreign to him, a distant memory from a time when he had first lain weak and shriveled upon the earth. He had been promised eternity, a paradise beyond the reach of mortal suffering, yet now he could feel his life slipping away, like sand through his fingers.

His vision blurred as he stared at his trembling hand, now stained with golden ichor — the sacred blood of those deemed righteous enough to ascend to greater heights. The sight of it filled him with a sickening dread, yet he fought to maintain his composure. His lips quivered as the stark realization struck him, but he refused to crumble under the weight of despair. His resolve, though wavering, remained intact, held firm by the last vestiges of his indomitable will.

"I am Adam," he whispered, his voice ragged and strained. "The first man... the progenitor of humans... the father of mankind..." But even as he spoke, he coughed up a thick stream of ichor, the golden liquid spilling from his mouth as he collapsed to his knees. The ground beneath him scorched his flesh, burning through his robes as the armor hidden beneath began to disintegrate, piece by piece.

He could hear them — his enemies — mocking him as they circled his fallen form, their voices dripping with cruel satisfaction. They reveled in his defeat, certain of their victory as they jeered at his helplessness.

No... not yet... not now... never again!

"Made in His image. Destined for greatness. Charged with a grander purpose," he muttered through gritted teeth, his voice hoarse and strained. Every nerve in his body screamed with the pain that wracked him, yet he forced himself to move, to rise, even if only partially. He raised his left leg and planted his foot on the ground, his right knee still pressed into the dirt as he leaned forward, struggling to maintain his balance.

His breath came in ragged, uneven gasps, each inhale a battle against the searing pain that threatened to consume him. "I will not accept this defeat," he snarled, his voice laced with a desperate determination. "I shall not embrace death so willingly!" His wings, still glowing with the divine brilliance that had marked him as special, flared with a defiant light, a testament to the embers of his once-great power that still burned within him.