The torches dimly illuminated the dense and mysterious air inside the tomb of Alexander the Great. The echoes of his footsteps echoed, and at his side, Caesarion walked in silence, his gaze lost on the remains of the great conqueror.

—Sometimes I think about him and what he left behind, you know? —said Caesarion, with a soft voice, almost whispering, as if he feared awakening Alexander's spirit.

There was a strange calm in that place, one that seemed to come from centuries of history and broken dreams. Reaching out to one of the walls, he touched the ancient inscriptions and imagined Alexander, a young man like them, looking at the world with the same hunger for greatness.

—And what will we leave behind? —Caesarion asked with a half smile, which hid some sadness.