Backstory
Cain grew up in a thriving, sunlit grove where life was loud, abundant, and constantly in motion. Roots cracking stone, rivers reshaping land, storms rolling in and leaving the world greener for it. The elders taught balance. Cain learned something else: Life pushes forward. Hard.
When beasts clashed or storms tore through the wilds, Cain didn’t step back, he stepped in, laughing, shouting, throwing himself between danger and anything that couldn’t take the hit. Not because he rejected nature, but because he embraced its momentum. If something had to break, he decided it wouldn’t be anyone else.
When his home was stricken with a draining blight, Cain did what he always did. He ran straight at it and took everything it had to offer. Rot, pain, corruption, he dragged it into himself like it was just another storm to weather. It should have killed him. Instead, it called something forth. Abel.
A towering, hollow, many-armed guardian that manifested behind him, catching the overflow, anchoring his reckless defiance, turning what should have been a fatal collapse into a stand that held.
The blight was torn out, root and all. The grove survived, but Cain could not stay. Not because he was cast out, but because he realised something simple:
