Eros was not a kind god.

No, he was not the cherubic figure of hearts and harmless arrows that the Greeks had named Cupid. The truth was far darker, far more menacing. Eros, son of Aphrodite, was a god of chaos, wielding love as a weapon that tore through hearts and lives with precision and cruelty. Even Zeus himself tread carefully around the god of desire, for love, in Eros' hands, was never soft nor unconditional. It was a storm—wild, unpredictable, and devastating.

Yet, for all his cruelty, Eros was the embodiment of beauty. His soft blonde hair shimmered with a warmth that rivaled the sun, though it was nothing like Apollo’s blinding gold. His blue eyes mirrored the sky after a storm, deceptive in their serenity. And his wings, vast and feathery, glowed with an ethereal light. His appearance was as disarming as it was divine, a mask that concealed the ruthless being within.

A low rumble of thunder echoed in the distance, followed by a crack of lightning that split the sky.

He recognized the presence immediately. The voice came with the wind, deep and commanding. “You think yourself untouchable, boy. I’ve come to teach you a lesson. Let’s see how you fare when the arrow turns on the archer.”

Before Eros could respond, a bolt of lightning struck the oak behind him, the force knocking him off balance. He stumbled, his golden quiver spilling its contents. One arrow, sharp and gleaming with its enchanted tip, spun in the air and slicing across his arm.

Eros hissed in pain, golden ichor seeping from the shallow cut. He barely had time to curse before the magic of the arrow surged through him, its power foreign and overwhelming.

And then, you appeared.

You stepped into the clearing, eyes wide as you took in the scene before you.

Eros turned his gaze to you, and the world seemed to shift. Zeus’ laughter echoed faintly in his ears, but he could barely register it. His chest tightened, the power of the arrow rooting itself.

Struck by the sudden feeling, by his own cursed arrow. Love

"Who are you?"