The Duke's Household (2)

Elian's breath came in ragged gasps as he stumbled through the dense thicket of trees, their gnarled branches clawing at him like desperate hands. He broke free of the woods, emerging onto the cobblestone path that led to the Duke's estate. The grand structure loomed before him, its silhouette stark against the twilight sky. His heart pounded with a rhythm that seemed to echo the foreboding tension in the air.

The estate, which had seemed imposing in the fragmented memories he'd inherited from this body, now stood like a sentinel of doom, an ominous shadow of the unfamiliar world he had been thrust into. His pulse quickened as he neared the entrance. Something was wrong. The absence of guards outside, where there should have been at least a few stationed, sent a chill down his spine.

What should have been a symbol of power and authority now felt like the mouth of a beast waiting to swallow him whole.

Reaching the heavy front doors, Elian paused, his hand hovering over the iron handle. His heart raced, a mix of dread and unease clawing at his insides. Steeling himself, he pushed the doors open with a creak that echoed ominously through the vast, darkened hall.

The sight that met him on the other side shattered whatever remnants of composure he had left.

Chaos. Bloodshed. The grandeur of the estate, with its gleaming marble floors and opulent furnishings, was marred by the horror that had unfolded within its walls. Blood smeared the floors, a grotesque contrast to the once-pristine tiles. The air was thick with the stench of smoke, copper, and death. Elian's heart leapt into his throat as his wide eyes swept across the gruesome scene.

The bodies of servants and nobles alike were strewn across the hall, their lifeless forms twisted in grotesque angles. The once-elegant interior was now a macabre display of violence, the grandeur of the estate reduced to a blood-soaked battlefield. The faces of the dead were frozen in expressions of terror, eyes wide open, staring blankly at the ceiling, their final moments etched into their features.

Elian's stomach lurched at the sight. The overwhelming scent of blood and death assaulted his senses, and he fought back the urge to vomit. His breath came in short, panicked gasps as he tried to process the horror before him.

His gaze caught on the crumpled form of the Duke himself, sprawled lifeless on the ground, his ornate robes stained with dark, congealed blood. Beside him lay his wife, her body cold and still, and not far from them, Vecto, the Duke's son, lay in a similar state, his life cruelly ended. The estate's grandeur had been obliterated by the massacre, its halls now echoing with the clamor of the unspeakable violence that had taken place.

Soldiers in dark uniforms, their faces set with grim determination, moved through the chaos with their swords drawn and stained with blood. Their presence made it clear how much danger Elian was in. His heart raced, and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

Elian struggled to comprehend the scene before him. This wasn't what he had expected, not what the memories had shown him.But the reality was far more terrifying than anything he could have imagined.

His thoughts turned frantically to Mira, the head maid who had been the only one privy to this body's secret. A new wave of fear surged through him as he scanned the room, his eyes darting from one lifeless body to another, desperate to find her. He dreaded what he might discover, but the need to know overpowered the terror gnawing at his gut.

Finally, his gaze landed on her. Mira lay near the Duke's body, her form small and frail in death. The stern features that had once commanded respect were now slack, her mouth slightly open, as if she had died mid-scream. Her eyes, once so sharp and calculating, now stared blankly at nothing, devoid of the life that had made her so formidable.

A cold, numbing fear gripped Elian's heart. The one person who had known, who had understood even a sliver of what he was going through, was gone. The realization sent a jolt of terror through his veins, and he felt as if the world was closing in on him.

Before he could make sense of the madness, a figure emerged from the chaos, a man who seemed to command the very air around him. His elaborate attire signaled a high status, and his presence was almost suffocating in its authority. He cut through the carnage with purpose, his dark eyes locking onto Elian's with an intensity that made the breath catch in Elian's throat.

There was something unsettlingly familiar in the man's gaze, but Elian couldn't place it. Was it pity? Contempt? Disdain? The emotions in the man's eyes were unreadable, fragmented like a dream slipping through his fingers.

"Who are you?" the man demanded, his voice cutting through the thick air like a blade.

Elian opened his mouth to speak, but his voice failed him, strangled by the terror constricting his throat. Before he could form a word, a soldier stepped forward, his voice carrying a weight of authority that added to the already oppressive atmosphere.

"Your Highness, he's the Duke's bastard."

The words hit Elian like a physical blow, the title "Your Highness" reverberating in his mind. Confusion and panic swirled together, making it hard to think. "Was this man the emperor of this world Or perhaps a prince?" The implications of the title made Elian's head spin. His vision blurred as he tried to process the rapid unraveling of his new reality.

The man addressed as "Your Highness" regarded Elian with a hardened expression. The moment he learned of Elian's parentage, any hint of curiosity vanished, replaced by cold disdain. "Seize him," he ordered, his voice filled with a finality that made Elian's blood run cold.

Wait... What?

Panic surged through Elian's body, his mind spiraling into a chaotic mess of fear and confusion. Why? Why was he being arrested? His eyes darted frantically around the room, searching for answers that refused to come.

His gaze landed on Isla, his step-sister, who was kneeling on the ground, a soldier's sword pressed to her throat. Her eyes were wide with shock as she saw him alive, but her own dire situation kept her frozen in place.

Everything around Elian seemed to spin out of control. The soldiers moved toward him with mechanical precision, their hands gripping him with an unyielding force. He struggled weakly, but his resistance was futile against their strength. Despair washed over him, a cold, suffocating wave that left him gasping for breath.

As they dragged him toward the exit, Elian's mind went blank, unable to comprehend the nightmare he had walked into. The weight of the horror, the bloodshed, and the cold orders of the man who held his fate in his hands pressed down on him like a physical force, crushing any hope of escape.

The soldiers' orders filled the air as they prepared to transport Elian and Isla.

The chaos of the estate faded into the background as Elian stared blankly into the distance, his mind lost in a fog of terror and disbelief.