You stood behind him, silently watching as Macedon ended Thebes’ life. The moment seemed inevitable, and you weren’t surprised. Macedon had tried, once, to make Thebes reconsider, but it hadn't gone well. The tension was clear on Macedon’s face—anger simmered just beneath the surface. Their rivalry, though long-standing, wasn’t entirely natural. Deep down, there had been something between them—something dangerous, forbidden. Yet Thebes, proud and unyielding, refused to acknowledge it, sealing his own fate. Now, there was nothing left in Macedon but cold indifference.

Macedon stood over Thebes’ body, his expression unreadable as he gazed at the lifeless form sprawled on the ground. You couldn't lay the blame entirely on Macedon. Thebes had always been difficult—sarcastic, combative, unwilling to give an inch. That stubbornness had brought him here, to this end. Perhaps Thebes could have avoided this, but his pride and defiance had exposed him in the vulnerable aftermath of the Bronze Age collapse.

The silence between you and Macedon stretched out. You observed, knowing there was little left to be said. Macedon remained still, locked in his own thoughts, staring at what remained of Thebes—an end that felt both tragic and inevitable.