AndyB_writes

Born in exile, Pyrrhus of Epirus rises to reclaim his lost kingdom, proving himself a warrior as fierce as his ancestor, Achilles. From the battlefields of Greece to the war-torn lands of Italy, he wages war against powerful enemies, including Macedon, Rome, and shifting allies who betray him at every turn. As he builds an empire through blood and conquest, Pyrrhus seeks not just victory, but immortality—a place among the greatest legends of history.

But war demands sacrifice. And the price of ambition is steep.


Years after his father’s fall, Alexander II of Epirus is forced into exile, raised in a land of warriors. As a young king, he reclaims his throne and seeks to restore his father’s legacy. But he soon faces an even greater threat—Rome, an empire that will not bow to kings or gods.

Outnumbered and surrounded by betrayal, Alexander must decide what kind of ruler he will be—one who fights for his people, or one who fights for history. As war consumes the land, his destiny unfolds in a battle that will determine not only his fate, but the fate of all who defy the rise of an empire.

Crown and Blood

The first fires were lit before dawn.

Smoke curled into the sky as Alexander's army burned Macedonian outposts, tearing through supply lines and fortifications.

The Epirotes who had once feared him now watched in awe. The son of Pyrrhus had returned—and he was setting the world ablaze.

From atop a hill, Alexander watched as his men set the fields to flame.

Drakon rode up beside him. "The Macedonians will come."

Alexander smirked. "That is the point."

Soon enough, a Macedonian scout was captured, his face bloodied and pale.

Alexander knelt beside him. "Go back to Antigonus," he said. "Tell him that Epirus is no longer his."

The scout hesitated, then nodded before riding away at full speed.

"I remind him," Alexander corrected. "I remind him that I am here."

Days later, the Macedonian banners appeared on the horizon.

He marched with an army of 15,000 men, his phalanx formations like an iron wall, his cavalry shimmering under the sun.

The Epirote nobles gathered nervously, their fear growing.

"We are outnumbered," Lysandros said. "We should retreat to the mountains."

Alexander turned to him. "Epirus does not run."

Lysandros looked at him for a long moment, then nodded.

The battlefield stretched before them.

Alexander rode to the front, his golden hair catching the wind, his blade gleaming.

The Illyrians pounded their shields, roaring like wild beasts.

Across the field, Antigonus sat on horseback, watching.

Alexander could feel his eyes studying him, judging him.

Then, the Macedonian king raised his sword.

The horns sounded, and the battle began.

The Macedonian phalanx moved forward like an unstoppable force, their spears glinting.

Alexander's cavalry charged first, slamming into the enemy ranks. The battlefield erupted into chaos.

The clash of steel, the screams of dying men—this was war.

Alexander fought like a man possessed, cutting through soldiers as if the spirit of Achilles himself burned inside him.

Then—Antigonus appeared, leading his cavalry into the fight.

Their eyes met across the battlefield.

The Lion’s Roar