When the boy stalked his prey, he would always find himself thinking back to bygone and better days.

He trailed a beast as large as a house with no fear, yet his memories pulled him back to a time when he found himself standing before a desk.

The young boy he was back then held a knife in one hand.

There was a fish in front of him, fresh caught from the lake about his woodland home.

The creature flailed, for it was not yet dead.

He turned his head to face the woman at his side.

Glossy black hair and skin like snow, she was a woman as tall as a titan to him, she was his mother, Beatrix of Fenrir.

She also held a knife and with it in hand she severed the head of a separate, second fish.

He shivered when that helpless creature’s life was thus casually ended.

Beatrix did not turn to face him, she continued to chop up the now dead animal into slices for the bowl.

Only when she finally finished did she turn a glance his way.

When she saw that the boy hadn’t managed to do the task she set for him, she shook her head and stepped over to him.

He looked away, somewhat ashamed, and then he gently felt her hand upon his own.

He looked up at her, saw her firm gaze, and then a low thud filled the room.

He turned his head to find that the knife in his hand had severed the head of the fish under the control of her grip.

He stared towards it blankly and in total stunned silence.

Beatrix sighed, then knelt down to his level.

“You have to learn,” She said to him.

The boy trembled, he faced the dead animal and tightened his grip upon the knife in his hand.

Beatrix shook her head, she seized his cheeks and then turned him to face her.

After that she closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his own.

“I will not be around forever,” She told him, “that’s why, you need to learn to take care of yourself.”

The boy’s trembling died down slowly in her embrace.

She opened her eyes and then parted from him.

She stood tall and faced the window, from where howls of great beasts echoed into the room.

Back to himself, back in the present, Rapture’s trident, born of Manifested Ash, penetrated the flesh of the house sized titan boar.

The boy from back then had long been baptised in blood.

He hunted and foraged, he survived.

The beast struggled fruitlessly and then fell dead upon the earth.

He killed it in a single strike, for no matter its strength it could not salvage a severed spine.

The princess of Jupiter, Lucretia, walked into the clearing then.

She trod the soil in silence as dawn’s first light emerged from the eclipsed crimson sun.

She saw the boy, Rapture, sitting on the fallen body of a mighty beast the likes of which she would’ve bid to send a full squad to subdue in safely.

“Is this what you’ve been doing every night?” She asked the boy.

Her tone was chastising, his recklessness astonished her, even more than the astonishing fact that he’d succeeded without a scratch.

The boy did not bid to answer her, he pulled his Ash from the body of the beast and then leapt to the waiting ground.

“I thought you liked animals?” She said, half in jest.

“I prefer them to people,” The boy replied as his Ash dispersed into the atmosphere around them, “With animals, you at least know where you stand.”

She chuckled, there was no arguing with his logic on that one.

Humans could lie to your face with a smile, beasts were rarely so conniving.

Predators were predators, prey were pray, and that never did change.

She watched him raise a knife, watched him turn to carve up his kill.

Black blood dripped from her fingertips.

She scowled and turned to face the lake that lay nearby.

That had been her objective at this time.

“Those markings, what are they really?” Rapture asked her.

She glanced upon him, he who faced her through the corner of his eye.

She realised then that he’d seen it long before it was illuminated by the morning light: The black blood dripped from her metallic tattoos.

“They’re a symbol of honour to my people,” She explained as she stared at her naked forearm, “In the garden behind Jupiter’s Platinum Palace there are sacred trees bearing golden leaves. Legend has it that the garden is sacred. We take the sap from those trees to mark ourselves...though only those respected few earn the right to do so.”

“Why is it bleeding?” He asked her.

She did not answer, just took the time to glance upon him and then watch him work in silence.

He removed the skin of the beast, then set to work bleeding it dry, all with a practiced hand.

“The markings are black initially. The sap itself is golden, but it turns black upon absorbing the impurities in our bodies. Once those impurities are purged...the markings are left silver,” She explained it all concisely.

Indeed the boy could see that there was a hint of silver in the otherwise pitch black markings on her forearm.

He glowered at her for a time, then returned to his work.

“I still have some of the sap left if you want to try it out,” Said the Princess, a hint of cunning in her brow, “Fancy becoming a man of Jupiter, Rapture?”

The boy’s knife became still for a moment.

He peered off into space with a daunting gaze.

That day, he remembered the god that took his mother away.

Things that were “sacred”...he did not trust them.

“I decline,” He replied, “With respect, of course.”

The Princess scoffed.

She turned her back to him, feigning her rage.

After a moment then she glanced back at him, peered over her shoulder to find him still hard at work.

“Of course you’re not interested,” She said, “You’re thinking of running off first chance you get, isn’t that the case?”

The boy scowled, once again his knife came to a halt.

Indeed he’d confessed it once already; his plan was to travel north and find the homeland of his mother.

Lucretia knew of it, so too did the people of Venus, in fact he’d redoubled his resolve to do so after the city fell to Cain’s hand.

After all, they attacked that place because he, a child with the blood of the Immortal Clan, happened to be living there.

“Do you not think you’d be better off if I was gone?” He asked, his tone sincere.

The Princess glanced upon the boy’s troubled figure.

She let loose a solemn huff, turned away and brushed a lock of hair over her right ear.

“You and Rusalka really are similar,” She said, musing aloud.

The boy shot her a bemused gaze.

He did not know why she brought that up, all he saw was the melancholy in her eye.

“The two of you always put the blame on yourselves when things go wrong, it’s impossible for others to convince you otherwise either.”

She chuckled a little as she faced the heavens on high, the sun peeked through more and more beyond the shadow of the moon.

“There was a time when we were kids, I’d always play the prince and she’d always play the princess...I even said I’d marry her once or twice, all in the spirit of playtime of course. I don’t hate people like her...people like you...rather, I really think I want to help you.”

The boy stopped, he turned a glance upon her as she finally finished saying her peace, “But you never let me help you...not you...and not her either.”

The boy’s knife came to a halt.

He looked towards his carved up quarry with a lost and wandering eye.

He felt it was a total waste but...he just couldn’t find the energy to finish his work this time.

His shoulders slumped down.

Ash coated and cleaned his blade before he sheathed it with an exhausted huff.

“The sun’s out,” He said, “it’s time to go back.”

“Please wait a moment,” Said the Princess pointing at the lake.

She lifted her wrist and then let the blackened blood glisten with a metallic hue under the light of the dim red sun.

“I need to wash...could you stand guard for me?”

“Why didn’t you ask someone else?” He said with a glare of frustration, “Aside from me our entire retinue consists purely of women, why would you pick the only man?”

The Princess did not answer.

She stepped into the lake.

Her clothes, formed from Mutation, unravelled into threads on contact with the water and coated its surface like a shroud.

“You really are clueless aren’t you?” She muttered in reply.

Now it was the boy's turn to say nothing in return.

He left his back to her, though he need not have, and stood in silent vigil.

Her mere existence couldn’t seem to help but mess up his routine, it felt like the daily order he’d established for himself was being uprooted by her pace.

Lucretia leaned her head back in the water, her sizeable chest pressed against the shroud that bathed the lake as she floated on her shoulders.

“I don’t trust them...and the same is true of them to me,” She remarked.

The boy didn’t seem to react to her words, not even in the slightest.

The princess scoffed, she opened her eyes and glanced upon the dull red sky.

“I received a letter. When we get to Jupiter...I’m going to be shipped off to Mars, as quick as can be, so as to marry the future heir of that city.”

The boy turned to spy her through the corner of his eye.

He was not politically savvy, as can be expected really, but even he had to question the timing of this arrangement.

“Why so soon?” He asked her.

“Who knows, there could be several reasons, though it does seem recent events have accelerated the pre-existing terms of the deal,” Said the Princess with a cold chuckled.

“Why are you telling me this?” Asked the boy.

The Princess pondered, briefly pouting her lips in a thinking manner, and then she glanced his way anew.

Indeed, there was a reason she had to tell him this truth above all others.

“The Ladies of Venus have through the ages escorted young brides to their waiting husbands...that means that our companions will be coming with me."

The boy at last began to realise where the problem seemed to lay.

Once they reached Jupiter he would then truly be alone.

“You’re a mortal blessed by a God, there are those who seek to make use of you...and those who seek to destroy you.” Said Lucretia.

They’d had this conversation before, he’d had it with others too. He was not in truth too sure which category Lucretia fit into.

Would she be happy to see him leave her country? Or did she seek to make use of him like the rest? This question must also be on the minds of the women who were guarding the both of them.

“If you have any problems, any at all, then go to my sister in law, Sibyl. She can be trusted to look after you.”

“What about your brother?” Rapture mused aloud.

He then turned to face the brush.

His gaze pinpointed the women of Venus hiding all around them.

Lucretia shot a glance upon the spots he inadvertently pointed out.

She couldn’t detect them without using her Ash, but he could, and that was a fact to marvel at.

“Perhaps they think I’m going to try and seduce you,” She said with a cheeky chuckle.

The boy turned to meet her joke with one of his own in turn.

“More likely they think you’re going to try and kill me,” He mused.

“The thought did occur,” The princess confessed.

Indeed, she didn’t mind admitting it, nor was he surprised to hear it.

The lad scoffed as the lass hence turned her gaze upon the heavens on high.

“You must be careful around my brother,” She told him, “I can’t vouch for what he might do...and my grandfather...don’t trust him, never trust him.”

The boy listened, very attentively, for her words rung with genuine concern.

He shot her a glance and saw her staring into the ether with melancholy eyes.

She was deep in thought, but he did not know what about.

Were it he could read her mind, then he might know.

When a woman marries into the City of Mars, she would be expected to surrender all of her political power, just the same as it is for any man marrying into Venus.

Lucretia knew from the start that this was a blatant attempt by her Grandfather to get rid of her in a civil manner.

She was born knowing a political marriage was inevitable, she had no mind to fight that future, it was her fate as a member of the royal family.

Still though, the way this had been so hastily forced forward made her cautious all the more.

Her grandfather was clearly scheming something again, too bad there was next to nothing she could actually do about it.

She parted from the water and stood up on her long slender legs against the muddy lakebed.

The clothing she once wore soon enveloped her once more.

Her boots were the last to take form as she stepped onto the lakeshore.

“Come along then,” She said as she gleaned the auras of yet more prying eyes from the brush, “It’s high time we head back.”

The boy scoffed, he told her that some time ago, or had she perhaps forgotten?

The prying eyes kept watching them, Lucretia most of all, with a great degree of concern.

Like she said, it did not appear that she was trusted by the ladies of their retinue.

That was why she let them listen, that they might clearly understand her thoughts and feelings, as well as her plight.

She let them pry so that they might learn to trust her just a little.

_________________________________________________

Year 5515...Day 82...

In the North-Western Region of the Muspelheim Continent, Rusalka and her ilk walked free of Crux’s gates.

When the maiden's heels hence clapped down upon the dry arid earth, her sole thought was to prepare her people for the war that was soon to dawn.

Hands on her hips, she took in the sights of the wavy and mirage ridden landscape.

She closed her eyes to recall Lucretia’s words to her, then opened them once again with a cold but quiet fury.

Venus’ ilk consisted of only six hundred survivors, most of whom were women, it didn’t even need to be said how poorly such a force stood up as a war asset and yet Jupiter law would not allow them to back out of it.

That said it was true that as far as said law was concerned it was Venus’ own ilk who caused this war to begin with, so it's not as though she couldn't understand why it was so.

Even so, every time she thought about this truth, it all frustrated her to no end.

Sadly, fate and wit had as of yet offered no solutions other than to face the threat head on.

That was the real reason she was forming this army, in truth, it was all to give her people a fighting chance.

Her iron boots clapped against the soil as she turned to see the man who was behind her, her husband, Alexander, who struck as ever a great and imposing figure.

She finally bid goodbye to the City of Crux and its newly risen ruler.

Her footsteps trod a march, the march towards war.