"There once was a girl who was as beautiful as the sunrise and as graceful as a swan. Her smile was dazzling and her eyes were warm and friendly. Her name was Lilibeth, and even that meant beautiful. The villagers thought she was a daughter of the gods, for she was as refined as she was beautiful. They weren't far off, as she was the daughter of an angel. Her father was an archangel who fell in love with a stunning human woman, and they became the parents of Lilibeth. But the father could not stay with the woman and his daughter, for he had duties to attend to in Heaven. So, he took the two and told them that they would be safe in the village he will leave them in.

And his word was true.

For years, the mother and the daughter lived in the village and all was well. But one day, a great storm hit the small village. Thunder clashed as flashes of lightning lit up the dark skies. Terror swept across the villagers, and chaos broke out. They did not know what was happening, but believed they had done something wrong and angered the gods. Their immediate thoughts turned to Lilibeth and her mother. The villagers knew that they were different, that they were not originally from the village. The elders remembered little Lilibeth and her mother being brought to the village by a handsomely beautiful young man who begged the villagers to take the baby and her mother in.

The villagers' response was instantaneous.

Lilibeth and her mother were kicked out of the village and out into the wild where they had to fend for themselves. They had nothing but the clothes on their backs. But still, thunder and lightning continued to haunt the village. The rain turned into snow, which soon turned to hail, the hard rocks of ice almost destroying the entire area. Soon, the villagers began to regret throwing Lilibeth and her mother out for it seemed that they were not the cause of this natural phenomenon. But it mattered not. The two were long gone from the village, taking refuge under the shade of trees and begging from strangers as they wandered from village to village. They were weary of their way of life, but it became routine. Sleep, beg, eat. And the cycle would continue every day.

That is, until he came.

It was the day that the storms in the village had let up, and it shocked the villagers no end. It came and went without warning, but the short peacefulness was cut short when a boom shook the ground and a dazzling creature appeared in the center of the village. As the light grew more bearable, the elderly villagers noted with a surprised gasp that it was the young man who had requested the young woman and the baby be kept safe there, and an uneasy murmuring broke out through the crowd. They realized that the promise they made so long ago was broken, and now they feared what would befall them for it was clear that he was not a mere human.

“You kicked them out.”

It was a chilling voice, one low and velvety. Dangerous, very dangerous. By now, the villagers were quaking with fear because they now knew. They knew the storms were connected to him in some way, they knew that the storms were connected to the mother and daughter, and they knew that they were in the wrong. The bravest man of them all came out and told the truth-that they believed that Lilibeth and her mother were the source of the storm. Silence fell upon the crowd as the young man looked each villager in the eye, betrayal in his eyes.

And now, he knew what it was like to be betrayed.

Because he wasn’t just anyone, wasn’t just a nonhuman, wasn’t just an angel. He was Lucifer, and his name meant light. But what light? For he had betrayed God, and it was his betrayal that brought about the storm. But even now, he saw God’s acknowledgement of him. It wasn’t quite love, but it showed Lucifer that he cared. The storm on the village had been God’s doing, for he knew what they had done to Lucifer’s love and his child. The fallen angel still loved the two, and would occasionally descend onto earth to look at the two, though he had to stay invisible to protect them.

Now he brought dusk with him, and a beautiful darkne-”

“Stop. Thank you, Yoseob. You may leave now.”

A soft but firm voice cut off the orator, Yang Yoseob, who hastened to follow his master’s bidding. Closing his book, he bowed at the imposing figure on the throne and stayed in that position as he walked backwards until he was out of the doors. His master was not one to be fooled around with, his wrath said to be greater than God himself.

Once Lucifer, or Satan as he was now known as, was sure that the orator was out of the vicinity, he sighed and called, “Lilibeth.”

A cloaked figure stepped out from the shadows and knelt in front of Satan. “Yes, Father?”

“You heard the story?”

The kneeling figure nodded as she looked up, tendrils of golden hair framing her beautiful face, her almond eyes filled with curiosity. “Is it true?” Her melodious voice was colored with confusion and surprise.

“Come here,” the Devil sighed. The girl complied and stood in front of her father, who held her hand. “That story is your story, and it is your mother’s story, and it is my story. That is how your childhood, though you have forgotten it. What Yoseob did not get to was that your mother died when I found you. Right after I found the two of you, she died. She died in my arms.”

The brief look of sadness on his face slowly morphed into one of anger and pain, and a wave of unquenchable desire for revenge washed over the fallen angel.

“Lilibeth, I want you to help me get revenge for your mother. The offspring of the villagers have been sinning greatly, and even God’s forgiveness can’t save them. They are mine. I want you to find them and bring them back to me. Use them. You know who they are,” he instructed.

The girl nodded and turned to leave, but was stopped short when her father and master’s voice rang through the chamber yet again. “Change your appearance and your name so the villagers don’t recognize you.”

“Yes, Father,” she intoned before swishing out of the chamber and to her own room.

She gathered her fellow dark angels and told them of their task. They bowed and left to prepare as she smirked. The Angel of Death was more than satisfied with the task her father had set her up to, particularly when it was for her dead mother. The sweet girl from the village turned into a dark, bloodthirsty young woman, courtesy of her father. Her eyes darkened and she her lips hungrily at the thought of her new “play toys”. As she sat in front of her mirror, she cut her long hair and dyed it a dark brown. And Lilibeth now became Amber.

A/N: Okeys so I kind of changed up the story, but it's still basically the same. This was actually what I came up with during my AP Calc BC exam. Yeah, I wrote this on my test /shot.