“Therefore, just as through one man sin entered into the world, and death through sin, and so death spread to all mankind, because all sinned—”
— Romans 5:12, NASB95

The serpent’s voice in Eden was not the beginning. It was the continuation of a rebellion perfected long before in another realm. The trader had been cast from the holy mountain of God, but his craft was unbroken. Where once he trafficked pride among the stones of fire, he would now bring his merchandise to a new marketplace — a garden where life walked with God.

The Garden in Harmony

A river flowed out of Eden to water the garden, dividing into four, winding its way through lands where the gold gleamed in goodness and the onyx stones shone with God’s design (Genesis 2:10–12). From the ground the LORD God caused to grow every tree that was pleasing to the sight and good for food (Genesis 2:9).

The garden was a place of effortless abundance. Trees rose in every direction, their branches heavy with fruit, bending low as if eager to be received. The soil yielded without resistance, for it had not yet been cursed. Cultivation here was not toil but worship, not survival but service. Man and woman were called to tend and to keep — not as slaves to the ground, but as priests over sacred space, stewards in joyful fellowship with their Maker.

The Approach of the Trader

He came not as a storm or a beast of terror, but as something subtle. The serpent — more crafty than any creature God had made — bore no trace of the exile’s scars. His appearance concealed his intent. In his voice was a question that sounded harmless:
“Indeed, has God said, ‘You shall not eat from any tree of the garden’?” (Genesis 3:1).

It was the opening move of the same trade he had plied in heaven — reframing God’s word, recasting trust as limitation. He dangled a bargain: autonomy for obedience, self-rule for submission. The fruit was his currency, the promise his price tag.

Eve replied, correcting his twist but adding her own: “…nor shall you touch it, or you will die.” The serpent seized the gap. “You certainly will not die! For God knows that on the day you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil” (Genesis 3:4–5).

The Transaction

The trader’s offer was clear: You can be more than you are. You can be free of the One who made you.
The fruit glistened, its beauty undimmed. Eve saw that it was good for food, a delight to the eyes, and desirable for making one wise. She took. She ate. She gave to Adam, who was with her — and he ate.

In that moment, the bargain was sealed. The same blueprint that had filled the cherub with violence now filled the first man and woman with shame. They traded the truth of God for a lie, and the lie bound them to the Domain of Darkness.

The Immediate Consequences

Then the eyes of both were opened — but not to glory. They saw their nakedness and covered themselves with fig leaves. The sound of the LORD God walking in the garden, once their joy, became their dread. They hid among the trees, as if branches could conceal them from the gaze that made the stars.

When confronted, Adam blamed Eve; Eve blamed the serpent. Trust had fractured in every direction:

• Upward — toward God, now feared instead of loved.
• Inward — toward self, now clothed in shame.
• Outward — toward one another, now poisoned by blame.
• Downward — toward creation, now resistant, no longer yielding freely to their care.

The four-fold fracture split through the very core of human existence. Harmony shattered. Fellowship broken. Darkness gained ground.

The Pronouncement of the Curse

The LORD spoke first to the serpent: “Because you have done this, cursed are you more than all the livestock… I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your seed and her seed; He shall bruise you on the head, and you shall bruise Him on the heel” (Genesis 3:14–15).

To the woman came pain in bearing life; to the man, toil in sustaining it. And to both came death — the return to dust. The curse spread from their hearts into the very soil, thorns springing where beauty had grown.

Outside the Garden

God made garments of skin for them — a covering that cost life to give. Then He drove them out, placing cherubim and a flaming sword to guard the way to the tree of life. The ground outside was not cursed by accident; it was the soil of the Domain of Darkness. Every child they would bear would be born into it. As Paul later wrote, “through one man sin entered into the world, and death through sin, and so death spread to all mankind” (Romans 5:12).

The trader’s blueprint had worked again. What he had once sold in the courts of heaven he had now sold in the garden. The curse was no longer his alone to bear. Humanity had inherited it — and with it, the long night had begun.

And there was no path out, no escape written into the blueprints of darkness itself. If rescue would come, it would require another plan — a blueprint not forged in shadow, but in light.

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Next: Chapter 4 | Satan’s Strategy Through History
From Eden to Babel, from empires to wilderness temptations, the adversary would weave his designs into the rise and fall of nations. The Domain of Darkness would not rest — and its architect would refine his craft through the ages.