The Final Talk with Themis

One night, Themis appeared before him, her form glowing beneath the moonlight of Epirus.

> "You have done well, Alexander. You have saved many."

Alexander looked into her divine eyes, his body old, his spirit weary.

> "But Rome still stands," he whispered. "I have not won."

Themis stepped forward, touching his forehead. A vision burst into his mind:

The rise of Rome as an empire.

Legions crushing kingdoms.

Millions enslaved.

A throne in Rome, where a single ruler controls the world.

Alexander gasped, his hands trembling.

> "Then what was the point? I fought. I bled. I killed. And still, they win?"

Themis's voice was gentle, but absolute:

> "No battle can end a war. No warrior can change fate alone. But you have shown the world that Rome can bleed."

A tear slipped from Alexander's eye.

> "And what now?"

Themis smiled.

> "Now, you rest."

The vision faded. Alexander closed his eyes… and never woke again.

His name became legend.

Rome would rise, but the spirit of rebellion would never die.

His name would be whispered for centuries.

He was the Last King of Epirus. The Prophet of Resistance. The One Who Fought Rome.