Notes -
There is definitely a fine line between teen and mature ratings. What I think complies with teen ratings would undoubtedly be mature for some. So, to prevent any hostile actions on your part or predisposed paranoia on mine, this is rated M.

Chapter Count - Unknown
Summary - Eres, sister to the god Eros, has been banished to Earth for inflicting pain and sorrow on humankind. To redeem herself, she must continue life on Earth as a human being and fix what she has ruined. However, when the infamous fallen angel, Lucifer, comes to retrieve what was rightfully his, Eres discovers that the road to atonement may be easier said than done.

Warnings - A lot of twisted and debauched mythical/religious elements, allusions to drugs, and mature themes.


1: the new world


Eres opened her eyes, sunlight streaming through the open windows, and she could feel the warmth on her face. Strands of her hair - its color thick and rich like black - fell over her eyes and she brushed them away, revealing a pair of icy blue irises with multi-colored rings. She pushed herself up by her elbows, trembling as she attempted to stand on her feet, and scanned her surroundings.

She frowned when her vision had not settled, her head dull with pain. Her surroundings were hazy, and she could spot broken vases and slanted mirrors, and objects out-of-place. This, she concluded, was not her home. There was the unmistakable absence of clouds and sunlit horizons, the flapping wings of Hermes, and the thoughtful musings of her brother, Eros. This was not home - not her home of night skies and tempest gales, where her bed was made of gossamer and moonflowers and her blankets of clouds and dark emerald velvet; this was not her room of juxtapositions, ironies, morbid fairytales, and the blossoming scent of broken hearts and empty spirits.

Blinking, she took in her new environment, attempting to recall the previous night's events but failed. Her eyes adjusted to the warm lighting, and she could see an array of fallen girls and boys on the stone floor, wine and champagne and other various alcohol brands forgotten on the ground, some of them unopened. She turned her head and saw herself in a large mirror, half-broken, shards forming one whole - and shook her head in distaste. She looked like she had been drugged, raped and kicked out into the streets, which was certainly how she felt. Her reflection reminded her of a ballerina corpse with smeared eyeliner as if she appeared straight from the Underworld, red lipstick that contrasted garishly with the paleness of her skin, and bright glitter in her hair that sparkled and mocked and negated everything that was dark and cynical about her. Her clothes were wrinkled and torn, and she wondered if this was her sentence: to be the ghastly mortal girl, who pretended she despised the world and hung her disgustingly ugly art on her walls and pored over self-pitying poetry.

Eres struggled to her feet, shaking the glitter out of her hair and remembering to breathe in-and-out slowly, so as not to faint in a heap of liquid limbs. Her back ached something terrible and she reached up behind her, feeling for the wings she yearned and desperately wanted back. She sighed, heavily, and scorned the gods for doing this to her. She was now just an ordinary girl with an amateur flair for the arts and preferred solitude - everything that was considered socially destructive in the world of which everything material was of great consideration.

And if she had a choice, she certainly would have refused any given kind of personality handed to her on a silver platter. Eres simply wanted to be a goddess - her former self - whose only goal in life was to retrieve the hearts that failed to beat with the arrows of her brother. She wanted to watch human suffering and laugh at their plight, their dastard naïveté. But as she thought about it, she considered the reason why the gods gave her the body with the appearance of someone who despised everything lively and passionate, who was doomed to encounter loneliness:

She never gave; she stole.

With a defeated sigh, she stumbled her way towards the front door. She imagined the gods had a preset life for her in this mortal world, doomed to fix what she conveniently shattered for her own amusement. Lamenting over her prospective future, she decided she would be here for quite a while.



Sin, baleful beauty that she was, draped her naked body against Lucifer. She purred into the crook of his neck, reveling the stroke of his fingers that ran lazily up and down her spine like she was an instrument meant to be played. Her hand came up to rest upon his cheek, blood-red nails tracing the side of his face. When he failed to respond to her urges, she licked his skin and closed her eyes in premature bliss.

He tasted sweet like arrogance, sins, and sex. And yet, she could taste the burning fire of gold and false innocence that was foreign to her tongue.

Her eyes glazed, narrowing.

"You fucked her, didn't you?" she spat, venom dripping in her voice.

Lucifer glanced at her, eyes dark and telling, challenging her and never wavering. The heat in his eyes were menacing, familiar, and glittered with cold animosity.

"Fucked who?"

"That impossibly wretched woman in Mount Olympus!" When he failed to respond, she continued, "Aphrodite, you simpering fool! Or have you so conveniently forgotten all about her?"

Lucifer's eyes softened, the corners of his lips edging skywards, as a smirk began to form. Gracefully, he removed himself from her grasp and stood up, and she was momentarily paralyzed by his engaging beauty. He was pale in the backdrop of Hell, a form of angles and planes and elegance. His limbs were long and sinewy, defined in ways only Catholic schoolgirls could blush about.

"The last time I bothered with sex was centuries ago, love. And I wouldn't think of touching her pure blood."

Sin scoffed. "That woman is hardly pure. She throws herself around like a bitch in heat."

"Well then, you know how I feel about whores, don't you?"

Her eyes gleamed with ferocity, and she bared her fangs to him; he remained unfazed.

"The taste of sweet sublime," she said, "doesn't go away for aeons. You can claim not to have fooled around with Miss Pure and Dainty, but what it comes down to is you had sex with someone impossible for you to keep!"

Lucifer spun around and leaned his wiry arms on the silk sheets of his bed, trapping Sin between them. She breathed in wanton gasps, stretching her long and limber legs and taking the opportunity to wrap it around him.

He chuckled, lightly. "Jealousy is unbecoming of you. How ironic."

Suddenly, he pulled away and, as if she had forgotten their impromptu argument, she pouted.

"Where are you going?"

"I've remembered that I have some business to attend to on Earth."

"And what business do you have in that godforsaken place?" Then she added as an afterthought, clearly with audible distaste, "Mortals."

"I need to fetch what rightly belongs to me."

Languorously, she stretched out on the empty bed. "And how do you propose to do that looking the way you do? One sight of you by those heathens, and they'll crumble to dust."

And with mischievous allure he replied, "Then I shall become one of them."


Indeed, I did take my creative liberty and collided worlds of Bible history and Greek mythology and did take the opportunity to twist facts and theories around. More will be explained as the story progresses.

If you're incredibly religious and narrow-minded, I suggest you go read something else. In no way am I religious person by any means, but despite my interest in religious beliefs, I have no qualms of ruining the image of God, giving allure to the Devil, or his followers, etc. This is fiction, and I'm going to manipulate whatever I can into what I need to write this.

(And for the curious, I don't mind the practice of any religion at all. It's just that if I see on stubborn fanatic raging like a lunatic about how I often murder the Faith through fiction, I'm going to be a little less than respectful because the warnings are clear and obvious.)