Chapter1: The Fall Of A Tittan
1537 Words
Breaking News: Global 24 News Network
“We have some heartbreaking news to share. General Alexander Mercer, renowned worldwide as the ‘War God’ and one of Imperion’s top military leaders, has tragically died at sea.”
“Earlier today, around 5 AM, Mercer’s ship, the Iron Sentinel, disappeared without a trace during a secret mission in the treacherous waters of the Meridian Sea. The last communication was made just before a severe storm struck the area, and since then, no contact has been restored.”
“Details are still unclear, and investigations are underway. As the world mourns this devastating loss, the search for answers continues.”
Victoria Hale sat before the television, her heart sinking with every word. The impact of the news hit her harder than she had anticipated.
She thought, “If someone like him can vanish so suddenly… what chance do I have?”
In just three days, she was scheduled to marry Dorian Blackwood—a man whose name made her skin crawl. Ruthless didn’t even begin to describe him. His business empire was built on corruption, and rumors of his involvement in money laundering and human trafficking were the least of her concerns.
Dorian had a reputation for manipulating people in the most despicable ways. She had heard unsettling whispers about young girls—powerless and broken—who had fallen victim to his schemes.
The thought of her impending future made her stomach churn.
“Victoria…” Her uncle, Lord Edward Hale, interrupted her thoughts with a sharp voice. He stood in the doorway, his eyes cold and calculating.
“Don’t even think about undermining this arrangement,” he warned. “Dorian is a powerful man who holds our family’s future in his hands. Do you understand what’s at stake here?”
Victoria’s fingers dug into her palms. “I understand, Uncle,” she said, her voice trembling. “But—”
“No ‘buts,’” he cut her off. “Dorian does not tolerate disobedience, and neither do I. You’ve been sheltered for too long. It’s time you faced reality. Marrying Dorian will secure our future—and yours.”
He then left, shutting the door with finality.
The coldness in his voice twisted her stomach. It wasn’t just about the family. It was about survival. Edward was using her as a pawn. She was certain he wouldn’t care what happened to her after the wedding.
The sound of her phone vibrating interrupted the silence. Her best friend’s name appeared on the screen.
Taking a shaky breath, she answered. “Hey, Emma…”
“Victoria, where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you all day. What’s going on?”
Victoria’s gaze darted around the dimly lit room, her heart pounding in her chest. “I’m at the ancestral villa…” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “I can’t go through with this, Emma. I can’t marry Dorian Blackwood. I… don’t want to.”
Emma’s voice softened. “You’re at the villa? What’s the situation there? Is everything okay?”
“Not really.” Victoria’s throat tightened. “This marriage… everything about it feels wrong. Uncle Edward is forcing me into it, and he won’t listen to anything I say. I need to get out of this.”
There was a brief pause before Emma spoke again. “I can imagine how hard this must be. Are you safe there?”
Victoria felt a cold shiver run down her spine as she glanced toward the door, half-expecting her uncle to barge back in. “For now… but I feel like I’m running out of time. I don’t know what to do next.”
“Maybe there’s someone who could help?” Emma suggested. “Where the hell is your father?”
“I don’t know who to trust anymore. Everything and everyone feels… dangerous.”
Emma let out a sigh. “Alright, listen. Just stay put for now. I’m coming over, okay? Give me the exact address, and we’ll figure this out together.”
A wave of relief washed over Victoria, though her hands still trembled. “Thanks, Emma. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Anytime, Vic.” Emma’s voice was warm. “Just hang in there.”
Victoria ended the call and stared at the phone in her lap. She pressed her palms against her eyes, fighting back tears.
She felt as though she was losing control. Her fate was being decided for her, and no one seemed able to save her.
Not even herself.
Victoria drifted into a restless sleep. When she finally awoke in the late afternoon, the light outside was already dim. Desperate to escape her suffocating thoughts, she decided to swim in the vast expanse of the Meridian Sea.
The waves seemed to call to her as she approached the shore. The cold water welcomed her, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she swam farther out.
Floating on her back, she gazed up at the wide, indifferent sky. Jets streaked across the horizon, and helicopters buzzed in the distance.
Tears blurred her vision as she stared at the brilliant orange hues bleeding across the clouds. The idea of letting go, of sinking into the cold depths and leaving everything behind, felt like the only option left.
But just as hopelessness began to close in around her, something unusual caught her attention—a dark figure bobbing on the water’s surface.
She squinted, her heart skipping a beat as she tried to focus through her tears. It was a man, barely conscious, drifting aimlessly.
Instinct kicked in, and she immediately swam toward him. The sea felt heavier with each stroke. When she finally reached him, her hands trembled as she grabbed his arm, struggling to keep him afloat.
“Hold on!” she shouted over the crashing waves. “I’ve got you!”
Victoria had no idea how she managed it, but after what felt like an eternity, she dragged him to the shore. Both collapsed onto the wet sand, their chests heaving and bodies trembling.
Victoria’s hands shook as she checked for signs of life. His face was pale, his lips tinged blue, and his breathing was shallow.
Victoria’s mind raced through the steps she’d been taught long ago.
“Stay with me,” she whispered, panic rising in her chest. She tilted his head back, lifted his chin to open the airway, pressed her lips to his, and performed rescue breaths. Her own breath came in uneven gasps.
Minutes stretched endlessly, and just when she feared the worst, he coughed violently, expelling water from his mouth. His body convulsed, and his eyes fluttered open.
Victoria slumped back onto the sand. She watched as his breathing steadied, though he remained weak and silent.
His dark eyes met hers, but he said nothing. Instead, they remained glassy, unfocused, as if his mind wasn’t fully present.
"Can you hear me?" Victoria’s voice trembled as she reached out to touch his arm.
He nodded slowly. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out—just a weak, strained breath.
Victoria’s brow furrowed. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something more was wrong. The sluggishness, the discolored lips, the way his body seemed to fight against itself…
“Come with me,” she said softly.
She helped him to his feet. The journey back to the ancestral villa was slow, his weight leaning heavily against her. Throughout, there was merely silence.
Inside, she guided him to a guest room, her mind buzzing with unanswered questions. He moved like a shadow, barely aware of his surroundings.
“I’ll help you get cleaned up,” she said, her voice softer now.
The man nodded weakly, allowing her to guide him into the bathroom.
As she began to assist him out of his wet clothes, she noticed the scars—thin, jagged lines crisscrossing his chest and back.
Her breath caught in her throat. “Who did this to him?” But she kept her question unspoken, sensing that he wouldn’t—or couldn’t—answer.
As she helped him undress, her eyes fell on a large tattoo covering his back: a skeletal figure holding a scythe.
Victoria stared, transfixed by the image. “Who… who are you?” she wondered.
Just as she was about to lead him to the bed, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway. Her pulse quickened.
The door swung open with a bang, and she turned, wide-eyed, to see Lord Edward Hale and her father, Sir Thomas Hale, standing in the doorway.
“Victoria!” Lord Edward’s voice boomed, cutting through the tense air. “What the hell is going on here?”
Her father’s face was pale, his jaw clenched tightly. “Who is this?” he demanded, eyes darting between her and the mysterious man.
“Father, I—”
“You have a lot of explaining to do,” Lord Edward snapped, stepping into the room and narrowing his eyes at the stranger. He reached into his coat and pulled out a sleek, black handgun, leveling it steadily at the man. “And so does he.”
- Writer
