When Waver and Alexander reached the palace, the soldiers were already gathering at the entrance.
Hephaestion in his armor, helmet on, directing everyone to go in their lines. Parmenion, Attalus and Ptolemy leading the civilians into the palace for protection.
"Prince Alexandros!" Attalus called when he saw the prince walking towards them, "we have been looking for you!"
Hephaestion turned to the prince as soon as he heard his name. His face of relief lasted only a few seconds until he remembered what was upsetting him.
"What is going on?", said Alexander, observing concerned how the people of Pella spead up their pace into the palace. A little boy tripped and fell right in front of him. He helped him up and signaled him to go inside the palace.
"Could somebody inform me what's the situation?" he repeated, turning to Hephaestion.
"You would know If you had been where you were supposed to be…", he replied, bitterly.
Alexander frowned at his friend's unusual sharp tongue.
"Sorry," jumped in Waver, standing in between them, gently resting his hand on Hephaestion's arm. "It's my fault, we were going to the temple and I-"
"It's fine", he lied, his eyes fixed on Waver's arm, wondering why he was wearing the exact same bracelet as Alexander. "You don't need to give me excuses…"
Alexander and Hephaestion exchanged an intense glare.
Ptolemy broke the awkward silence between them.
"The Persians have entered our perimeter, it is only a matter of minutes until they reach the city", he said.
"There is no time to waste, my Lord, please give the order", asked Attalus.
"And my father?" asked the prince
"The king has just left for Epirus to ask for more men to support our army," explained Parmenion, "those damned Persians… they must have known he left with half of our men, and waited to attack…"
"Half of the army! You must be joking…" claimed Alexander, although his face showed no sign of comedy. "In a moment like this…"
In the distance, a sudden sound of explosion grew louder and louder. Short, intermittent bangs made the earth shake underneath their feet.
"What on earth is that?" Asked Parmenion, confused.
Everyone went quiet for a moment. Everybody stopped, even the people on the streets.
A second later, a scent of sulfur and burning charcoal filled the air. Everyone looked around trying to find where it came from.
Then a little boy pointed up to the sky.
A black cloud above them.
Before anyone could move or say anything, a shower of lightning struck the city, followed by a loud bang.
Bodies flew in the air in all directions, along with the tiles and pebbles from the blown-up buildings. All in a second.
That was when chaos begun.
The people of Pella panicked, rushing into the palace in despair as they avoided the continuous explosions. Screaming, pushing, tripping over one another.
"Alexander!" called Waver managing to get up, removing a piece of a marble statue he had used as shield "Is everyone ok?"
The prince and the rest of the soldiers were already on their feet.
Waver observed astonished the limbs and bodies being disintegrated with every wave of explosions.
"This cannot be…" he mumbled in denial, "this is…"
"Magic?" asked Attalus, perceptive.
Waver gulped.
"We have to move! They are still coming!" said Hephaestion
"My Lord, what are your orders?" asked Attalus
Alexander knelt in silence. His face pale, his body in shock, shaking, unable to process the horror his eyes were witnessing.
"My Lord…?"
Another round of explosions fell upon the city, this time hitting the city walls.
"Prince! Your orders!" Yelled Parmenion, frantically.
Alexander showed no sign of response.
Hephaestion walked toward him and punched him on the cheek all of a sudden. Alexander instantly fell on his side, hitting the ground.
Everyone's eyes went from the Alexander to Hephaestion and back, staring and waiting for the prince's reaction after being slapped in public.
Alexander rubbed his cheek, then chuckled.
"Thank you…", he muttered, getting on his feet with some trouble.
Hephaestion sighed, his eyebrows rose as a smile appeared on his face. He extended his hand to help him up.
Their eyes met in a melancholic yet forgiving look, and suddenly the world stopped for a moment around them.
Hephaestion nodded.
Alexander nodded back.
Everyone else observed the scene puzzled. Everyone except Ptolemy, who smiled with relief.
The prince now stood tall and faced the soldiers.
"Soldiers of Pella!" the prince finally announced. "Get ready for battle!"
The men, confused and scared, slowly begun to recover from the shock and gathered their strength to stand by the prince's side.
"Hephaestion, you will lead. Parmenion, stay at the end, I'll leave the strategy to you. Attalus, you'll lead the second battalion. Waver, Ptolemy, you will lead the people safely into the palace and protect them there."
"But…" both Ptolemy and Waver opened their mouth to protest.
"I need someone I trust to protect the people I care about…", he gave Ptolemy a look. No more words were needed.
"I will protect them with my life", Ptolemy said, holding on to the silver amulet hanging around his neck.
"My lord, I understand your intentions, but I believe magic can only be fought with magic", said Attalus, turning to Waver. "Let's use the boy".
"I will not use magic for war", said Waver with determination.
Attalus was ready to argue, but Alexander ordered him to stop with his hand.
"I will still go with you…", defied him Waver. Alexander raised an eyebrow.
"…my Lord," Waver added. "I refuse to stay".
Alexander stood close to him, grabbing Waver by his shoulders. Waver's hand went immediately to Alexander's, feeling the bracelet on his wrist.
"Stay safe…", said the prince, then turned to Ptolemy.
Waver was suddenly smacked in the head by Ptolemy and dragged inside the palace.
"Soldiers of Pella!" yelled Hephaestion, and the men stood in their lines.
"Fear not…" Said Alexander, pausing to wait for the incoming explosion to pass. "Fear not, soldiers, for the gods are on our side! Even If we are to die today, we shall give those Persians a fight they will remember!"
The men cheered and raised their swords and spears, ready to put on their helmets and shields.
Alexander stood close by Hephaestion's side:
"And they will sing songs about us…", he whispered to his ear.
Hephaestion smiled gently, holding his hand.
"…and our names will become immortal".
Alexander smiled back, and with his other hand he whistled loudly.
Bucephalus galloped towards his master to march with him into war.
"Fire!" Ordered Parmenion from the end of the line, and the archers fired an arrow shower over the walls.
The explosions ceased for a moment, which they used to exit though the gates and secured them right away.
Outside the walls, the Macedonians were surprised to find only a few dozens of Persians, most of them already dead, pierced by the arrows. A trace of dark smoke clouded the air after the ceased fire.
Hephaestion continued leading the first line of the army into battle, putting an end to the remaining agonizing men in the battlefield.
They continued marching at a slow pace.
Hephaestion looked around, cautious. His throat tickling, his eyes itching with the smoke.
In the distance, a silhouette appeared in between the clouds. Once he was closer, Hephaestion could identify a couple of warriors. They wore no armor, but instead, a strange long robe and a bare chest. They carried no visible weapons.
"It's a trap" thought Hephaestion, hesitant, suddenly stopping.
He looked back. Alexander was watching him from the distance, waiting for him to move.
"I'll play it safe," he thought. He raised his hand to indicate the archers to fire one more time. Alexander passed the signal on.
"Fire!" ordered Parmenion again from the back.
The archers fired once more.
The arrows stopped in mid air, as if hitting an invisible wall between them and the Persians. The arrows all landed one by one in the rough, dry plains in front of them.
A moment later Hephaestion heard a roar coming from underneath his feet. The earth burst from within, the explosion wiped out half of the army in seconds.
"Hephaestion!", yelled Alexander, observing with horror how his friend was sent away several meters in the air.
Hephaestion got back on his feet as fast as he could, a cut bleeding in his forehead. He turned to Alexander, who was already riding towards him, followed by Attalus.
"Stay back!", he ordered the prince from the distance, still panting, "there are traps underground!"
Alexander instantly stopped.
Hephaestion turned to Attalus, who was staring at him with concern.
"You cannot afford to lose",
The general's words echoed in his mind,
"The prince already risked his life for you, don't ever let it happen again…"
And the Persians begun to move.
The odd-looking soldiers drew their daggers out of nowhere and marched against Hephaestion and his remaining men.
The Macedonians charged against the Persians.
Just before their swords clashed, the Persians daggers were glowing red, lighting on fire.
"M-magic…" observed Hephaestion, terrified, yet unable to stop now.
The Persians swung their daggers, emitting red embers that reached Hephaestion's men.
The Macedonians screamed in pain, calcined alive before they could even reach the Persians.
"No!" yelled Hephaestion, watching his men fall.
Despair took over his body and mind. He saw no way out.
Overwhelmed with agony, a frenzy invaded him. He rushed towards the enemy, screaming until his lungs ran out of air. The few remaining soldiers followed him into this suicidal feat.
More traps blew from beneath them as they advanced. Some men flew in the air, while others burned in flames. Only a handful of them were left alive now.
Hephaestion struggled to make his way through. Tripping, falling, dodging. Several times. An arrow pierced his thigh, but that did not stop him. A berserk fever running through his veins fueled him until he finally reached the enemy.
His sword slashed merciless the naked chests of the Persian warriors. One by one they fell, for in close combat they were no match for the Macedonian warriors.
Hephaestion put his sword through the last of his enemies, and the handful of soldiers that followed him cheered to their triumph. At that moment, his muscles relaxed, no longer injected with adrenaline, and he let himself fall on his knees.
"We did it", he chuckled.
But victory was too brief to even taste it.
The dark wall of smoke vanished now completely, revealing behind it an army of hundreds of Persians.
Archers, cavalry, infantry. They all marched against the Macedonians at full speed.
Alexander observed the scene with horror.
"Hephaestion!" he yelled, dashing towards him with despair.
A few meters ahead, an explosion sent Bucephalus flying in the air. Alexander could not react. He flipped backwards and landed on his face, lying unconscious in the ground.
Alexander opened one eye with trouble. His cheek numbed with pain against the rough soil. His ears beeped with the impact and his head wiggled from side to side, disoriented. He took a minute to figure out what happened.
"Bucephalus!" he cried, fearing the worst for his beloved companion, for the horse was nowhere to be found.
He tried to get up, but a sharp pain hit through his right shoulder like a knife.
His arm gave in and he fell flat against the soil again. He whistled with his other hand, calling his horse, struggling to turn and lie on his back.
His eyes met with those of a Persian soldier who awaited with a spear, looking down at him, ready to pierce his chest.
Alexander reacted quickly tripping him with his leg, and agile rolled to the side.
But the soldier grabbed his leg and pierced his ankle with it.
Alexander groaned, suddenly forgetting the feeling on his shoulder and his cheek. The pain was so great he even forgot how to breathe for a moment.
He crawled in all fours, panting, ignoring the stinging feeling on his shoulder every time he moved. His will to live was greater than any possible pain.
But his arms were weak, and his legs were tired.
He stopped, and looked up.
Defeated, his eyes searching for comfort, for a farewell.
"I'm sorry, Hephaestion…", he mumbled.
Piles of bodies spread along the plains. Macedonians, Persians, young, old. All lied awaiting to be eaten by the crows. A boy lied in front of him, his eyes wide opened. For a second, Alexander thought he was alive. He guessed he must have been around 12.
Among the dead bodies of his Macedonian people, he could see Attalus wandering in circles. Dragging his feet, his eyes lost, yelling something, as if looking for someone. Probably him, the prince thought, and the old general looked suddenly older to him.
He saw Hephaestion on his knees, swinging his sword recklessly in the air, Parmenion standing by his side and fighting away the soldiers that surrounded them.
"I couldn't keep our promise… I'll have to go first…" He though, closing his eyes and commending himself to the gods…
A sudden loud roar in the distance made him open his eyes again.
King Philippe and his Ionian Hetairoi rode into the battlefield, annihilating everything in their path.
The prince sobbed and chuckled, his eyes shinning with hope and tearing with gratefulness for being alive.
"Not so fast…"
The Persian warrior who had been following him grabbed him by his injured leg, dragging him closer to finish his job. But before he could raise his lance, he was kicked by a horse on the head, falling on the ground.
"Bucephalus!" Alexander called, and his horse came by his side. Alexander grabbed onto the animal's neck, and the horse pulled to help him up. He was too weak to ride, but he found the strength to hold his dagger.
Arrows fell upon the battlefield, the explosions continued. But the king and his riders did not stop. Watching this, the Persian army begun to hesitate, the troops started their retreat.
Alexander looked for Hephaestion. He was lying unconscious in Parmenion's arms, who had already started making his way back to the city gates.
Leaning on Bucephalus, Alexander followed them by a distance in between the sea of soldiers.
"My Lord!", Attalus called him, striking down the last few Persians around them to make his way towards him.
The Hetairoi chanted their victory, rising their swords and spears to celebrate.
Alexander took a deep breath.
"I'm glad you are alright", he said.
"You are alive, my boy…" said Attalus, crying tears of joy.
He scanned the prince from the feet to the head, and something caught his eye.
"What is that odd, glowing thing on your wrist?" asked the general.
"What?"
Alexander looked at his bracelet. A bright blue glowed on his wrist.
He looked around in haste, suddenly remembering what that glow meant.
From the top on a hill, a silhouette in a cloak stood there staring at the king.
Alexander watched it mumbling some words, an arm stretching forward, hand extended in the direction of the king.
His face slowly disfigured by the certainty of what his eyes would encounter next.
"FATHER!"
King Phillip lied on the ground with a flaming arrow through his chest.