2 CHAPTER ONE

Eighteen years. She's lived for eighteen years; again. You might ask what happened to the babe. Did her shit stain her clothes? Was the smell enough to knock down a grown ass man? Maybe or maybe not. Eighteen years is a very long time to ponder what of her life and her old one. And that was her dilemma.

The two moons had risen from their grave; shining brighter than the sun. An ice storm was brewing in the west. Eager to freeze the young blood; who's now had enough time to summarize her situation. Now, eighteen years in the world she's lived in now is longer than 'normal'. There were fifteen months in a year in their world, 26 days in each month and she happened to be born on the 13th month. The least welcoming of the fourteen.

Booming dragon breath* lit the periwinkle horizon. Kaleidoscope wonders blasted through the thick air, giving it a certain warmth.

"Black sheep! You still alive, aye?", said the same rumbling voice, cutting through the festive air.

"Uncle Broodwick, must you interrupt my silence?", her smooth and silky voice uttered in despair.

"Aye, I must! You look like a sod on yer birthday, lass!", he chuckled as he sat next to the young woman, leaning against his chair, he puffed a cigar.

Passing the little booklet of nicotine to her. A large ring of smoke left his lips.

"Why are you here? You know this is my balcony, right?" She pushed away the booklet and stared at her uncle's eyes.

Now the man looked like a fisherman in fine clothing. Embossed gold traced his silk coat. Emerald eyes losing its color. Her uncle had always been next to her since the day she was born. Hell, he was the one who witnessed her first shit and has never failed to remind her of it.

"Are you here to remind me of my first shit?"

"Nope. I'm here to drag yer bullocks down the bloody staircase to your 'party'. Yer da'* organized this so called it." Her uncle looked like he has had enough of this 'celebration'.

"It is a party. Just without me." The young woman's sterling eyes shone dangerously. One would mistaken her as a predator; top of the food chain. Which, she kind of is, having invested in many companies by the time she could talk. Genius, they would say. After all, she is...

"Ophelia Napolitano get down here and greet the guests! Your dad spent years planning the perfect birthday for you! And tell your Uncle if I smell a whiff of his cigars, I will throw him in the hound's pit!", Ophelia's mother called out.

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A symphony of strings accompanied her through the marbled hallways of the Napolitano estate. Passing servants ruled the hall as Ophelia weaved her way through the crowd. The day has finally arrived for her to execute her 'grand escape'. Royal savants and renowned prophets have gathered in the ballroom mingling with blood relatives and distant kin. All eager to strike a deal with her, every single one of them a greedy glutton, no matter how fine their silk coat was. Exchanging contacts with them was the easy part of her dreadful night; holding a conversation wasn't. She wasn't one to entertain boring and useless nobles. She'd much rather investigate them.

"Information is power". She learnt this the day her uncle swindled a man's freedom and life. The terror and despair in the man's eyes, if she looked closer the tears would be visible. That was also the day her uncle bought her a crystal necklace.

"Salamander Tears, milady," someone offered, snapping her back to the conversation at hand.

"I must decline, I do not drink such alcohol." Drew Peacock, a rather large man. One of the many savants eager to ask her to become their scholar. Napolitano a name to be feared and respected. Peacock was one to challenge such powers, often finding himself with a dagger to the throat. Lucky him, it wasn't his time yet. At least, that's what rumors say. She was feeling rather merciful this eve.

"I insist, it's your birthday milady. Why, when it was my party. I drank till the golden eye rose from its slumber." A hearty laugh bellowed from his mouth. She swore the shirt he wore was about to burst. He continued to insist for her to drink, eyes clearly roaming her body. It was enough to spark her anger, raising a brow. She snatched the lavender liquid, raising her glass in a toast with the noble.

"See, it's greet to relax and have a dri-" Before Peacock could finish his toast, the young woman gave his face a good wash of the fiery drink. Everyone was at shock at the exchange. Eyes glued at the scene before them, the melodies came to a halt.

"If you have time to stare at me, you have enough time to leave. All of your petty deals will be declined. No matter who you are or what you are. I, Ophelia Napolitano, will be the one to decide my future." Walking away from the disgusting slob before her, she headed towards the comfort of her parents who were near the magnificent steps. All she could think was, "So much for a royal savant."

A good few savants left the party knowing well that they would never have her as their scholar. The prophets whispered among themselves, laughing at the scholars and the fumbling Peacock scurrying away tail in between his legs.

Lin and Atticus Napolitano, proud parents of fierce Ophelia. Rumor has it that she spoke the day she was born. Unfortunately, it was her first shit. Not her first day of speech.

"Ah, my beautiful stardust. Did you have fun mingling with the guests?", a mischievous grin pulled at her father's lips.

"You invited him on purpose, didn't you father?" The air between them was quite thick, she was not in the mood for her father's antics.

"Why of course. I'm glad you met the old perv, he was quite the entertainment." A chuckle escaped his lip. Atticus Napolitano, a clever man indeed. At the age of 7 he had seized control over the family business following the dying wish of his great grandfather. His father was outraged at the time, cursing the boy for being the head. Whilst his mother was quite proud of him, supporting her son in his endeavors in the world. His father treated him poorly for the rest of his life for it, and on his eighteenth birthday he banished his own father. Stripping him of his title and giving the money to his mother. The day after that his mother divorced him, and continued her life as a single mother. Always there for him.

Ophelia loved her grandmother, she would give her an allowance that wasn't needed. Baking her favorite Ikronian* sugar tarts.

"Where's lola*? Did she miss my party?" A sinking feeling fell in her stomach as she thought her grandmother not attending. Just as she was about to retreat to her room, the oak doors burst forth presenting her beloved grandmother.

"Did you miss me, pumpkin?" A soft smile tugged on her fragile lips.