A King Without a Kingdom

The halls of Ambracia were colder than Pyrrhus remembered.

He had returned home, but it did not feel like home anymore.

His kingdom was weakened. His people resented him.

Lanassa was gone.

His son barely knew him.

Pyrrhus stood on the royal balcony, staring out at the city below. Once, they had cheered his name.

Now, they whispered of his failures.

Echecrates entered. "The nobles are gathering."

Pyrrhus sighed, running a hand through his unkempt hair. "To welcome me back?"

Echecrates hesitated. "To demand answers."

Pyrrhus gritted his teeth.

He had given them everything.

And yet, it was never enough.

He turned. "Then let us give them answers."

But deep down, he knew—

He was no longer the king they had wanted.