Transcending Prologue

[@] Who would have thought of adding doses of Opium in the simple bowl of punch would be just enough to spiral down the the remarkable Santini Ball of the century?

None but the infamous Cassiopeia May Santini.

The Santini name had been the epitome of grace and family wealth since the rise of the common era; soft bars of classical music rung blissfully within the glazed chalk walls of their millennium old Basilica; flutters and folds of the grand ball gowns majesties the night air as a girl, nine years of age hid among the curtained round tables of guests.

No one noticed her for no one cared. Cassiopeia was only an upcoming heiress to the Santini fortune, she was only a figure for the future. With no power but her name, she would be just a blot in history, no more than a whisper of the wind.

And so the young girl laughed, a cup of powder, a voice within the back of her head buzzed, wouldn't be enough; but the stars have proved her wrong.

What ethereal barrier the guests had had long been gone. The classical music seemed but a cricket's tone in the bewildered shouts of dance and joy. Long gone were the boring sets of violins and oboes. Long gone were the courtesy and their manners.

'Welcome to the Santini's' Cassiopeia May grinned at the sight: gyrating bodies pounded, their etiquettes fading away with the night. Hairs once dutifully arranged like an ornament of flowers were now but a ruffle of blonde and brunette threads. The guests had been crazed out and Cassiopeia never had a better laugh.

"Look at that! Melisandre' of the Boliva family is--woah, I didn't see that coming", and so the highly esteemeed lady of the richest Romanian family wasted away into a torrid kiss with some mere waiter.

He is good looking though, she chuckle from the tunnel vision her sight had from under the isolated table.

Cassiopeia's Jose Buzeta' creation, a ballgown of carnation and embedded jewels were meant to be a showstopper yet stayed hidden underneath the tables. What a grimy place for a 1.2 million dollar ball gown, but Cassiopeia couldn't care less.

A shuffle, a swish of the tablesnl curtain and Nathan Maxwell crept underneath posing by Cassiopeia's side, "Cassie, what did you do now?", his tantalizing hazel eyes grazed on her grinning face for any hint of mischief.

"I did absolutely nothing wrong, Nathan. They did", her voice was rather hunching to the information as she gave him the odd look and tilted her head towards the scene ahead.

"They're not alcoholics, especially not Mr. Bennet. I know you did something, Cassie and how could you tell that they-", her palms cut him out mid-sentence. Nathan's eyebrows furred and relaxed moments after he sighed, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

She was at it again, his young mind thought.

"All I did, was to pour some--sugar in the I don't know, the punch?", her eyebrows furred like his then bith arched forming a smirk at Nathan.

"Oh Cassiopeia..."

"What? They drunk too much of the alcohol that's why they're all crazy"

"Right, by alcohol you meant alcohol with some drugs?"

"Whatever", and Cassiopeia's eyes rolled away to the side of her head. He was always the party pooper. He was always on the right never looking to the fun side of going left.

"Live a little, man!" Her voice accentuated every words to mock his. When Nathan glared at her and yanked her out from underneath the table.

Cassiopeia crossed her arms, fresh air came in touch with her porcelain smooth skin, it made her tingle and her eyebrows arch as she spoke through a gritty teeth.

"You're so boring Nathan. I don't like you"

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