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DEATH

I was caught off guard to put it mildly. I ventured twenty-two thousand miles in twelve years. I led men with conflicting loyalties over the entire known world. I suffered wounds and maladies, yet I survived while I was abroad.

Yet shortly upon my return home to my capital, I fell ill and died. Is this natural? Is this normal?

On June 10th, 323 BC, roughly one month from my thirty-third birthday, the Gods took my life away. Some blame poisoned wine, others complications from the flu and others yet that I was murdered by some of my men.

I never thought I would die. Perhaps deep down inside I knew that I would eventually leave the world I knew for another one.

But I was keen on accomplishing so much, touching so many people and leaving so much behind that no one would forget my legacy.

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