OH SUGAR! ─── original applyfic

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PROLOGUE

the fall

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FALLING. There was little he could recall of that series of events that led to this however he could remember the fall as if it had happened mere seconds ago. That split-second of dread as he slipped over the edge and he was falling, tumbling, collapsing. It was not wondrous in the way Alice tumbled down the rabbit hole- no, this was unlike falling down any cliff's edge or hill the world would ever know. Falling was hardly the word for it at all: no words could describe the way in which his body hurtled amongst the clouds, how his throat was ripped raw by fingers of smoke and how his body seemed to be caught alight by invisible flames.

Adapting. After falling past the earth, the golden gates of heaven were far from sight. Now reader, whilst you and I may pay vast amounts of gold to taste the candied air of the gardens of Eden, the one they named Lucifer had lost his taste for sweets. No... once the taste of smoke had finally settled, the sugary perfume of streams of honey and forbidden fruit were far from his palette and mind. The smoke numbed his raw throat and the heat distracted him from the blisters that had bubbled against the armour that was now his skin. Wings pulled to the ground, moulded into a knot of feather and flesh. For a split second, stillness.

Laughing. When he had finally gotten to his feet, he threw his head back, back arched as he let out a cackle; a cackle that still seems to echo through the woods when the twilight is premature. He let it out, falling forward, scarred palms pressed to his stomach as he continued to guffaw. At one point, there appeared to be no more humour in his laugh. Like raw stone pulled from the earth, his face was laid hard- uneven, sharp, unwanted. Every little aspect needed to be made smooth, polished, and extracted- it was never perfect as it was. Anger seeped into him- that's all he was: a rock made to be polished, coddled and pressed into an obedient diamond by the lemongrass-scented scenes of heaven. Laughter soon simmered down into hate and hate into anger. At himself, at the mortals- at everything: at the moon for hiding to curse him with another day; at the wolves for cursing his nights and at the constant press of jagged onyx underfoot that cursed him regardless of time or space. Since that moment, it's been a cycle of cursing God, cursing the world and then cursing himself, hate only growing as he did so.

Now, I know what you're thinking dear reader- how could the one we named Lucifer show such spite towards the overflowing blessings of the gardens we long to be in? Well, my answer to that would simply be that it is the result of suppressed arrogance. From that moment on, hate was all he knew. For when you concentrate only on the thorns of the roses of heaven, the hounds of hell feel more like family than anything. When you focus on the darkness of the shadows in the summer months or the bitter dregs of an otherwise perfect cup of tea, something brews deep inside. I suppose it was only a matter of when rather than how. For he also knew that, at some point, he'd find himself falling.

This tale was echoed throughout the halls of The Blessed Santa Maria's Academy. The youngest students were tucked into four posters laid with silk and goose feather pillows. Matrons would get out the black book with the gold words the children couldn't read yet. Before lights out, the children of the 1% were treated to tales of equivocators who lied, of industrialists that stole gold coins from the penniless and holy men who strayed onto the devil's path. All of them, the matrons warned, would end up buried in the rivers of sulphur that had stripped the devil of his senses.

"But some," they warned just as the twilight's wind rattled the casements, "have been granted their trials on earth."

Khushi Eve Acharya had been warned. She had been told that damnation could be found on earth, in Milan itself. She had been warned of the Inferno before she even knew what hell was. But could the one named after the mother of man truly resist? When the serpent's words were so sweet and demons have pretty smiles to hide their fangs, how could they expect the naive to not fall for their sugary illusions?

And so, the daughter fell, just as her mother had.

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author's note: if you hadn't realised already, almasa loves her biblical references. expect more pretentious writing and religious imagery later on. if you haven't already, ensure character opinions have been commented by this friday. thank you again my loves, i hope you enjoy!