The next thing Cain became aware of was not sight or sound, but pressure.
It was not that noticeable at first, like invisible walls pressing in from every direction, not crushing him but holding him firmly in place. He could not tell where it began or where it ended. It felt like being sealed inside a narrow coffin buried deep underground, where the earth did not suffocate you yet refused to let you move.
The space around him felt tight, controlled, measured. As if something had drawn a circle around his existence and locked it.
His mind stirred slowly.
Locked?
A faint irritation flickered through his thoughts. As an Overgod, the idea of being confined, even for a moment, was something he would never tolerate. Even when he limited himself to a lower realm, even when he sealed most of his power, the core of him was vast and unbound. He had existed across cycles. He had rewritten time itself.
So what was this feeling?
His eyelids opened.
White.
