Fall of House Marcelo

The night was still and cold. The manor, typically a symbol of power and prestige, was now shrouded in a foreboding silence, as if the walls themselves anticipated the storm that was about to break.

In his study, Grand Duke Marcelo sat hunched over his desk, his face illuminated by the soft glow of candlelight. He was engrossed in reviewing a stack of documents, unaware that the darkness creeping through his estate was far more menacing than the night outside.

He had grown complacent, confident in his power and the fear he commanded, never suspecting that the foundation of his household was about to be ripped from under him.

In her chambers, the Duchess reclined on a luxurious chaise, absently stroking the embroidered cushion in her lap. Her daughter, Isla, burst into the room with a smile that lit up her entire face, a rare sight that instantly piqued her mother's curiosity.

"What's got you in such a good mood?" the Duchess asked, her tone as indifferent as ever.

Isla's grin widened. "I've eliminated that bastard."

The words were barely out of her mouth when the Duchess's expression changed from curious to alarmed. She shot up from her seat, her voice a harsh whisper. "Shhh! Are you out of your mind? Do you want someone to hear you?" She looked around the room as if expecting the walls to have ears. "Killing a noble's child, even a bastard, brings a punishment you cannot even imagine."

Isla's face faltered slightly. "But, Mother..."

Before she could finish, the door to the chamber flew open, and Mira, the head maid, rushed inside. Her face was pale, and her breath came in short gasps. "My lady, Elian is missing. I can't find him anywhere."

The Duchess exchanged a knowing glance with Isla, a smirk tugging at the corners of their mouths, but they quickly masked it. The Duchess feigned annoyance, waving her hand dismissively. "And why are you disturbing me with such a trivial matter?"

Mira's voice trembled with emotion. "My lady, Elian isn't the type to sneak out at night. His room… it looked like he was taken by force."

Isla let out a cruel laugh. "Perhaps he went to meet one of his lovers. After all, a whore's son will always be a whore."

The Duchess joined in the laughter, the sound echoing through the room like the cackles of witches. Mira, however, was too concerned to notice the malice. "But, my lady, there were signs of struggle… there was blood…"

Her words were cut off by a scream that ripped through the air, loud and filled with terror. The three women froze, the color draining from their faces as more screams followed, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of swords clashing and slicing through flesh.

The Duchess sprang to her feet. "What in the world is happening?" she demanded, her voice betraying the panic she tried so hard to conceal. She grabbed Isla's hand, and together with Mira, they rushed out of the chamber and into the hallway.

What greeted them was a scene of utter chaos. The courtyard, once serene and orderly, was now a battlefield. The Royal Guard, clad in their imposing armor, moved with lethal precision, cutting down anyone in their path. Servants, soldiers, and members of the household fell like wheat before the scythe, their cries of pain and terror filling the night air.

The Duchess's heart pounded in her chest as she watched in horror. "What is the meaning of this?!" she screamed, her voice cracking with fear.

At that moment, Grand Duke Marcelo burst out of his study, his eyes wild with rage. "Do you know whose house this is? How dare you?!"

A figure stepped out from the throng of soldiers, his presence commanding immediate attention. Izan, the Crown Prince, stood tall and proud, his gait sure and steady. There was no sign of weakness, no hint of the frailty that had supposedly left him crippled. He looked every inch the warrior, and the sight made Marcelo's blood run cold.

"Crown Prince…" Marcelo stammered, disbelief etched across his features. "You… you can walk?"

Izan's lips curled into a sneer. "Yes, and no thanks to you."

Before Marcelo could fully process what was happening, Izan closed the distance between them. In one swift motion, he drew his sword and drove it through Marcelo's chest. The Duke gasped, his eyes wide with shock as he looked down at the blade protruding from his body.

"This is for my mother," Izan hissed, twisting the sword for emphasis. "And don't worry, the Empress will be joining you soon."

Marcelo's mouth opened and closed as if he wanted to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he collapsed to the ground, his life extinguished in an instant. The expression on his face was one of utter disbelief, as though he couldn't comprehend that his life had ended this way.

The Duchess's scream pierced the night as she saw her husband's lifeless body crumple to the ground.

She staggered back, her hands clutching her chest as if she could somehow stop her own heart from breaking. Before she could react further, one of the guards stepped forward and, with a single, brutal stroke, sliced through her neck. She slumped to the ground, her blood pooling around her as life left her body.

Isla watched in frozen terror as her parents were slaughtered before her eyes. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she fell to her knees, shaking uncontrollably. Tears streamed down her face as she looked up at Izan, who stared back at her with cold, unfeeling eyes.

Nearby, Vecto, Isla's brother, was dragged out by two guards. When he saw the lifeless bodies of his parents, his face contorted in panic. He struggled against the guards, his movements frantic and desperate. But it was futile. They forced him to his knees, a sword hovering just inches from his throat.

Suddenly, Vecto lunged forward, trying to break free. The guard didn't hesitate. With one swift motion, he brought the sword down, ending Vecto's life in an instant. Isla's scream echoed through the courtyard, a sound so filled with despair that it seemed to linger in the air long after her voice had died.

She didn't move, didn't dare to. The sword pointed at her neck was a constant reminder of how close she was to sharing her family's fate. Her wide, terrified eyes darted around the courtyard, taking in the carnage.

The bodies of the household servants lay strewn across the ground, their blood soaking into the earth. Even Mira, who had served her family faithfully for years, was dead, her throat slit.

Isla couldn't understand any of it. How had everything gone so wrong? One moment, she had been on top of the world, and now she was kneeling in the dirt, surrounded by death.

Izan watched it all with a cold detachment, his expression unreadable. He had waited for this moment, planned for it, and now that it was here, he felt… nothing. There was no satisfaction, no relief, only a deep, yawning emptiness.

He turned away from Isla, his gaze sweeping over the courtyard as he gave orders to his men. The execution was to be swift and thorough. No one associated with Marcelo was to be left alive.

House Marcelo, once one of the most powerful in the empire, was now reduced to ashes.