The Princess of Jupiter's, Lucretia's, body soaked from shoulder to toe in the depths of a rosy bath.

The dim but giant red sun burned in the heavens above shone through the open space of this large rectangular hall, for it, quite frankly, did not have a roof.

She sighed to herself. Her voice echoed lowly into the chamber. The many residents who used this open bath, the many Platinum Class of Jupiter and their many, many servants, who outlined the bath and its surrounding cubicle covered halls, trembled.

Their princess was in a slump, her mood was solemn and sour, unpredictable. They saw her eyes as she combed back her golden locks, they were ruthless, restless, they could kill with a stare.

Few knew what truly angered her, they assumed that, perhaps, it was her wedding to the young Lord of Mars? That did irk her, true, but regardless their guess was wrong all the same.

Lucretia was mad because once this bath ended she would have to leave, she’d go to Venus and investigate their connection to Beatrix and the Beacon on her being. This troubled her immensely, for once upon a time she and Rusalka of Venus had been the best of friends.

The Princess let out an extremely unbecoming groan of discontent and then leaned her body to her neck in the water. Her face looked to the heavens. She thought back to the day she and Rusalka parted ways. They were but children then, she barely even remembered what their argument had been about, and here they were about a decade later.

She lifted her giant but shapely body free from the water. Droplets and rose leafs caressed her naked form, but she ignored that as she advanced toward the steps and then out of the baths altogether.

Golden threads embraced her flesh and quickly clad her in a sun coloured dress. Even her feet became coated by pitch black boots, the heels high, the tips thin, with white souls and accents of style. Such was the power and nature of a Platinum Class shapeshifter, why wear what you can just make and unmake on the fly?

She brushed back her hair with her arms as her Ash flowed through it, drying it with its heat quickly as the sun, yet it harmed her golden locks none. Her body left the bath building with gentled strides, nine individuals waited outside. She stepped forward through the streets and to the plaza in front of the palace.

“Let’s go,” She resigned herself. What must come shall come, what must be done should be done swiftly. The doors opened, she stepped forth. She dreaded this journey, she knew not what waited at the end.

Indeed, she certainly did not know what was in store for her from here on out, yet had she truly known back then then she would choose to go again, readily.

Fate was a whimsical thing, even in tragedy, some things are better to face than forfeit.

__________________________________________________

The Prince, Erus, glanced out from the window of his lavish bedchamber until the sight of his sister drifted off into the streets beyond the Platinum Palace.

His heart was disquiet, for while it was true that everything he’d said at that meeting had to be said that did not mean he felt good about it. Then, as he sulked by his lonesome, a woman’s voice called out to him. Comforting and caring, compassionate and calm, it was all of these.

“You did nothing wrong, Erus.” The man smiled, a true and brilliant smile, as he turned to face the bed. What greeted him was a woman wearing a face veil. Nothing was implied by its meaning, only that women from her home city adorned themselves as such. Her bed, their bed, too was also covered in many half transparent silken curtains.

The woman's hair was black, her dress was white, and her belly was plump below the waste, but by far less than a normal woman’s would appear to be when pregnant. Platinum Class bodies were as tall as a bear, after all, if not taller, and they were built to match, but their babies when born were no bigger than the norm.

“I know, I do not need you to tell me," Said the prince as he lifted the curtains barring him and then stood beside the woman on the bed; his woman, his wife, Sibyl of Neptune. His gaze turned swiftly upon her belly, which she caressed most warmly.

“Then toss aside your concerns, I’ll not get to see you once that army marches out tomorrow,” Said the veiled Sibyl. Her lips pouted playfully, even so there was some genuine irritation in her tone.

“Sorry,” Said Erus as he knelt at her bedside. He reached out his hand to caress her veiled cheak, and then he lowered it down to stroke her belly. “I wish I didn’t have to go, even if there is time left before this kid’s born, I feel uncomfortable leaving you two alone.”

“Well, you cannot help it, I suppose,” Sibyl said in turn. She turned her face away from him. She understood perfectly well his reasons, if anything she was bitter solely because she could not go there with him. “Oh little one,” She said to her belly, “Why did you have to choose now to be conceived?”

She of course did not blame the child, who couldn’t hear nor comprehend her words, she was only annoyed that all these things had to happen whilst she was so indisposed. She glanced at her husband and said half jokingly, “Next time, you're doing this.”

The man formed a wry smile, then shook his head as his wife raised her gentle hand to his face and caressed his pale cheek. Erus fell silent, he closed his eyes and felt release in her caress. Her presence eased away his stress.

“I know it’s not always easy to do the right thing, but please never stray form it.” The man let out a tired sigh. He knew, better than anyone, the weight of her words. When Julius finally kicked the bucket there was much he’d have to do to patch up the scars he’d left behind. Nothing was worse for a country than an incompetent ruler, and his grandfather was certainly not a good one.

“Between my bastard grandfather and my all too kind hearted sister...I feel a mighty headache coming on.” The man closed his tired eyes and leaned quietly by his wife’s bedside. His hand reached out and caressed her slightly bulging belly, a warm smile then appeared on his usually emotionless face. “I hope to clean up all these messes long before you have to worry about them, little one.”

______________________________________________

Blue smoke tore into the vacant skies with a tame echo where once there was a wild shriek.

Two figures stood upon the beach, one a small boy glowing with blue aura, the other a tall woman clad in garments the colour of flesh. The boy, Rapture, pulled back his glowing arm.

The powerful Ash that had until now been wild and destructive had calmed, it coiled around his fingers almost playfully until he bid it to hide away. The glow that shrouded his form promptly faded into nothing. He heard clapping, even cheering, he turned his head to face their source, which was Amelia, of course.

“Well done,” She said with a smile. Truth be told, however, her heart was in turmoil.

He’d come a long way towards taming that power of his in less than one full afternoon, no matter how she thought of it that was simply far too fast. The boy himself knew none of this, naturally, for he lacked the worldly wisdom to recognise his own abnormality. He faced the heavens once again as a troubling question crossed his mind.

“Can I ask you something?” He said. His Ash, until now, had been a filthy shade of black, yet now it was a brilliant ocean blue. Why was this? What significance did it hold? He wanted to know the answer to these questions.

“Go ahead,” Amelia said, “Tell me what’s on your mind."

“Why did my Ash change colour?”

“Because you’re inexperienced with it.” Amelia gave her answer, short and simple. The boy pondered over her words, but he could not grasp their meaning, he could not see what his level of skill had to do with his Ash’s form and colour.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“It’s very simple,” Amelia replied. She raised her hand, snapped her fingers and conjured Ash therein.

Small embers burned, a tiny trace of a brilliant flame, that Ash of her’s was coloured pink at first but with time it turned green, then gold, then silver and finally both black and a little bit violet. The colour changed many times but always in accordance with her will.

“Ash is directly linked to your mind, it is directly influenced by your thoughts and emotions. Lose concentration and lose your Ash Manifestation, let your heart sway in emotion and the colour changes.”

“I see,” Said the boy, “then...what colour means what?”

“That depends on the person,” Amelia said as she opened her palm fully and embraced a fist sized mass of pink coloured Ash, “For me, this is my favourite colour...yes, I know, it’s pretty girly, but I like it all the same. My Ash is swayed to turn this way when I am happy.” She then closed her fist and scattered her Ash to the wind. With one glance she then turned to face him. She said to him, “Black, to you, must mean despair.”

Rapture’s heart ached as those words hit home. Once more he recalled that night, that horrible night when the god named Rognir descended upon his home. When his mother died and a storm of that god’s black Ash covered all in the land. She was right, that blackness was his despair.

“Now then,” Amelia asked him, “What does blue mean to you, I wonder?” The boy snapped back. He looked right at her and pondered. Indeed if black as a colour signified his despair then what was blue to him? The colour of the ocean and the air? The colour of a healthy world? Yes, the very opposite of the world destroying deities whose power induced despair.

“It’s...the colour everything's meant to be,” He said as he faced the all encompassing sea. Amelia was taken aback by this scene. She shook her head to break it free. This boy was full of endless surprises, truly.

“We’ll call it a day here,” She said as she turned on her heels to face the quiet manor. The boy turned his head to face her soon after. “As homework, try and make sure that you can change the colour of your Ash at will before long, alright? Showing your emotions in the heat of battle is the same as offering up an opening to your enemy.”

“Yes,” Said the boy, “I understand.” Amelia heard his declaration, then sighed and muttered something under her breath. The way this boy was now he might well have mastered this discipline by midnight if he really tried. His innate diligence combined with Rognir’s blessing was a terrifying thing, which she as his mentor would have to try and stay on top of no less.

“You’ll be better than me in no time,” She whispered at a loss.

Naturally her heart was heavy with jealousy and a bit of apprehension, but she quickly put it to rest. What was the point of comparing herself to him? She was far from even being the best in her own class, after all.

The boy watched her for a time, watched her walk away. Then for but a moment the woman stopped her heels and stood in place before the decking of the manor. This fact drew his attention all the more.

The boy then watched in awe as the woman turned her head to the side and muttered something else under her breath. Her atmosphere then transformed. He didn’t grasp the words she spoke, for he could not read lips, but he figured from her frowning look that something had displeased her.

Then, in a flash, with movements too fast for Rapture’s eyes to even perceive their traces in the air, Amelia cut something down. The boy’s eyes fixed firmly in shock upon that something. He saw its true form, which was that of a tiny black creature, a winged insect that had been split in twain by the woman’s swift and ruthless blade.

The woman scoffed and then raised her foot high upon the first steps of the manor’s decking. The awestruck boy could do nothing but stand rooted to the spot as he watched.

Amelia had power, skill and technique, all far beyond his own. Could he truly be at that level someday? Was such a thing possible? He dared to hope, dared to wonder.

Amelia kept on walking like nothing had ever bothered her. Her boots clapped loud upon the creaking wooden decking. Then, at last, she reached the manor’s door.

She paused, then glanced back to look upon Rapture through just the corner of her eye. All this time she had noticed his staring, his awe. The cause was a petty thing, she had bid only to show off, to sate her sense of being lesser than him.

Now that he was like this however, now that she could see the admiration in his eyes, she felt a little bit guilty and so showered some words of guidance upon him. “Would you like to learn more about this world? Or about the gods? Or maybe more about your mother?” She asked him. The boy blinked once, but she could tell that her words were as thunder going of inside his ears.

“My brother, Rudolph, I’ve told you of him, as has Misss Ru, has she not? Go there and seek him.” She raised her hand and pointed to the west where just beyond the manor lay the city library. “I was to Ru only her mentor on covert subjects not to meet the public eye, such as stealth and assassination, skymaster stuff. My sister in law, Melany, meanwhile was her mentor in many things such as overt war and politics. Yet it was my brother who taught her everything purely academic. He is a scholar, a wise man, you see, and you can learn a great many things from him you'd never learn from me.”

“Thank you,” Rapture said, nodding his head, “I will do as you say.”

“Very good,” Amelia replied. The boy then watched in silence as his mentor turned away. She reached her hand out towards the manor door. With a click and a creak, it was open and shut, she stood there no more.

The boy turned his eyes away. He aimed them next upon the place that Amelia’s words had set him upon as his next goal; the city library, where Rudolph of Mars did lay.