Princess Psyche was the brightest, kindest, most beautiful girl in Greece. So great was her fame that men feared to court her, and women to befriend her. Everyone worshipped Psyche from afar. Her only friends were the flowers, birds, and little creatures of the palace garden.

When reports of Psyche reached all the way to Mount Olympus, Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love grew raging jealous. She summoned Eros, her wickedly handsome son. “Fly to Earth, my darling boy, and prick Psyche's heart with one of your arrows, so she'll fall in love and marry the first man - preferably a vile one - who comes along. Otherwise they'll be building temples to that silly little mortal.”

Eros flew straight to his target, took one look at Psyche, fell head over wings in love, and pricked himself on one of his own arrows for the first time ever. To escape his mother's jealousy, Eros commanded South Wind to carry Psyche in secret to a silver pavilion in a faraway valley.

By night, Eros flew in and woke Psyche with soft kisses. His promises of bliss made Psyche laugh with delight and warmed her lonely heart. Eros had one request - that Psyche never look upon him by day. So night after night, they spent in bliss, and day after day apart.

One night, though, Psyche's curiosity could not be contained. What if her true love was a monstrous beast or a dragon? She lifted an oil lamp over Eros as he slept. Light fell upon no monster but a golden haired youth with wings of gold and green feathers. But as Psyche pulled back, a drop of oil fell and burnt Eros's wing.

“Love cannot live where there is no trust!" Eros flew back to his mother's home; the silver pavilion vanished; and, Psyche found herself alone in a bleak wilderness.

After Aphrodite received her wounded son, she heaped up a mountain of seeds and grains from every plant on Earth and ordered Psyche. “Sort these by nightfall, wicked girl, each into its own kind…or die.”

“O, Queen of Love, have mercy!”

But Aphrodite showed none.

Psyche wept.

A friendly ant heard Psyche's sobs, and called all the ants in the country to come and sort all the grains, each into its own kind before nightfall, and so they did.

Furious Aphrodite set Psyche a far worse challenge. “Go to the pasture by the river and gather the golden fleece of the sheep that graze there. I need a shawl for the long nights I spend nursing my wounded son."

Psyche shuddered in horror. Not only did the sheep have golden fleece, but they had golden horns and hooves, and ferocious golden teeth which could tear her to bits. Psyche's heart sank.

But a water reed growing by the river's edge whispered, “Psyche, Psyche, Psyche, wait until midday when the sheep seek shade in the woods. Then you may pluck the golden fleece from the branches.”

So Psyche did, much to Aphrodite's displeasure.

So Aphrodite handed Psyche a box, and a task she hoped would be the last. “Go, disobedient girl, down to Hades' realm. Ask the Queen of the Dead to fill this box with some of her elixir of beauty, for I am weary from tending my wounded son!”

Since no mortal ever returned alive from the Land of the Dead, Psyche climbed a stone tower for a last look at her beloved Earth. As she stood there, half tempted to leap off, the stones of the tower began to rumble. “Go, Psyche, and stop for nothing and no one. Do what Aphrodite asked. Press on for love.”

Psyche started down the gloomy path to Hades. In the humid darkness of the Land of the Dead, she came across three gaunt old women: one spun, one wove, and one cut threads—they were the Fates, spinners of the length of each life, weavers of destiny. “Come, wanderer, see what we weave for you.” Psyche ached to know her fate, but she went on into the Land of the Dead.

Passing the palace garden where pomegranates dripped blood red juice, Psyche came to the black marble throne where Persephone, Queen of the Dead, sat silent, rocking to her own private music. Psyche held out Aphrodite's silver box. With slow, snaky motions, Persephone filled the box with her elixir made of dreams and forgetfulness.

Psyche retraced her path, but stopped before stepping out into daylight again, feeling weary and worn. “I need a bit of this elixir, too.” But no sooner had she opened the box, than she fell to the ground, deathly pale.

In the sky above, out testing his wings at last, Eros saw her, and flew down to wake Psyche with a kiss. After many more kisses, Psyche hurried with the elixir to Aphrodite, while Eros raced to the throne of Zeus, King of the gods, to beg for help. Marriage between gods and mortals had been forbidden, but Zeus was so moved by Psyche's devotion that he himself handed her the cup of immortality. In gaining an immortal soul, brave Psyche gained a soul for all humanity ever after. Heaven and Earth were united at last. Even Aphrodite danced at the wedding.

In time, when Psyche and Eros had a child, they named her Bliss.