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 scouts arrived at dawn, their horses foaming at the mouth, their faces pale with fear.

Demetrius II had crossed into Epirus.

He came with 20,000 men, a force large enough to wipe Alexander's kingdom from the map.

Inside the great hall of Ambracia, Alexander and his generals stood over a map of Epirus, the weight of war heavy in the air.

Lysandros spoke first, his voice cautious. "Demetrius has more men than we do. A direct battle would be suicide."

Lysandros shook his head. "We force him into a battle on our terms."

Alexander's gaze drifted across the mountains of Epirus on the map. His father had once used these lands to his advantage.

Alexander traced his finger along the Aoös River, where the mountain passes narrowed into treacherous valleys.

"If we face Demetrius in the open, we are lost," Alexander said. "But if we force him into the highlands, his army will be trapped. The terrain will break his formations."

Alexander turned to his captains. "Send word to the villages. Empty the farmlands. We will lure Demetrius deeper into Epirus."

One of the younger officers hesitated. "And if he burns the land behind him?"

Alexander's eyes hardened. "Then we will burn him with it."

By the time Demetrius's army arrived at the Aoös River, they found empty villages and abandoned fields.

The Macedonian king sat atop his black warhorse, his expression twisting in frustration.

A general beside him, a grizzled veteran of Macedon, shook his head. "No. They are leading you somewhere."

The Macedonian banners moved forward, marching straight into the lion's den.

As Demetrius's army entered the mountain valleys, Alexander watched from the cliffs above, his Illyrian warriors hidden among the rocks.

Drakon stood beside him. "They march as if they own these lands."

Alexander smirked. "Then let us remind them who does."

The first boulders crashed down, crushing the Macedonian front lines.

Then—the Epirote archers rained arrows down like a storm.

Screams echoed through the valley as Demetrius's men fell into chaos.

Alexander drew his sword, his voice like thunder.

He charged down the mountain, his warriors roaring behind him.

The Storm at the Gates