PROLOGUE
Vergina, Aegean Macedonia – Autumn, 1977
The dusty air smelled of earth two thousand years old. The sun slowly retreated behind the hills of Vergina, leaving behind a faded light that slid over the stone tombs. Silence reigned, almost sacred—broken only by the heavy steps of three archaeologists approaching the entrance of the second tomb, the one they had kept secret for months.
Before them stood a half-cleared stone façade, sealed with heavy stone blocks and covered in symbols—a lion, a sun, and intersecting paths. This was what they called Tomb II, but deep down, everyone on the team knew: this was a royal tomb.
“Silence,” whispered Dr. Andronikos, the lead archaeologist, his voice as soft as breath. “Let the first breath of history not be disturbed by our noise.”
When the last stone was removed, the interior was revealed—a chamber lined with smooth limestone, the walls adorned with remnants of frescoes barely surviving the passage of time. In the center—a golden chest, a gilded lion atop its lid. Around it—weapons, a helmet, and a bent spear.
“This isn’t just a warrior,” said one of the assistants. “This is… someone who left a mark.”
The chest was opened. Inside—cremated remains of a man with a shattered skeleton, scattered fragments of a once-magnificent body. But one thing caught Dr. Andronikos’s eye: a partially preserved femur—thigh bone.
“I’ll take it… for analysis,” he murmured to himself, and without the others noticing, he slipped it into a small metal cylindrical container, which he carefully slid into his leather briefcase. He knew the risk, but he knew even more what he was preserving.
Behind him, the others stepped back. But one young student, wearing thick glasses and clutching a notebook, looked him straight in the eyes.
“Sir… do you know whose bones those are?”
Andronikos paused for a moment. Then he said:
“They’re not ordinary… That’s a lion. A lion who died, but left behind a heart that still beats. A day will come when someone will hear that beat… and understand.”
CHAPTER 1
paeonia, Spring 2025
Rain gently tapped against the window as PEPE sat in deep thought at the old wooden desk in his first-floor apartment, just a few streets away from the downtown. The walls were covered in maps of the ancient world, xeroxed documents no one had read for centuries, and handwritten notes in tiny ink.
The silence resembled that of a library. The world outside moved on, but here—time stood still.
Just as he looked again at the book on the Argead bloodline, a doorbell rang.
He wasn’t expecting anyone.
He opened the door carefully. Standing before him was an older man in a postal uniform, soaked from the rain.
“For Pepe?” he asked, eyeing him curiously.
“I am.”
The package he handed over wasn’t large, but it carried weight—not physical, but a weight you could feel. No sender. Only one symbol on the faded sticker—the Vergina Sun, scratched and half-erased, as if it had fought to survive time.
PEPE opened the package. Inside:
- An old, weathered steel box, sealed with a mechanical key.
- A manuscript with yellowed pages: part diary, part testimony.
- A small white envelope with his name—written in handwritten Ancient Greek.
His heart raced. It could’ve been a hoax, or someone’s sick game. But something inside him—deep, rooted in his blood—already knew this was a call he’d been waiting for his entire life.
He opened the letter.
“To the one who shall carry the weight of the lion,
If you have received this package, then my mission is complete. Inside you’ll find something the world has hidden for centuries—DNA material belonging to none other than King Philip II of Macedon.
Don’t ask how.
Ask why it’s you.
The sequence is digitized. The code is in the journal.
But if you are who I believe you are—you won’t even need it.
Beware of the shadows.
Truth is not always welcome.
But it… is eternal.
— The Duke of Light,
† E.M. (The Man from Vergina)”
PEPE closed the box. In his eyes appeared a mirror—not of tears, but of something he couldn’t name: the call of blood.
The truth he had been searching for all his life might not have been buried in books or archives—perhaps it was within him all along, just waiting to awaken.
CHAPTER 2
The Shadows of Helenos – Thessaloniki, Secret Chamber
In the basement of an unmarked building in the heart of Thessaloniki, beneath thick stone arches and soundproof walls, a round table sat under the dim glow of a single overhead light. Around it—four men and one woman, all dressed in dark suits, expressionless, nameless. Only titles.
On the wall hung a wooden symbol: a Sun with sixteen rays, but the central one was replaced by an eye.
At the center of the table—a digital monitor displaying an analyzed DNA profile with the heading:
ΦΙΛΙΠΠΟΣ Β΄ – SAMPLE #42 – 1977/Vergina
One of the men, grey-haired and cold-eyed, looked up from the screen.
“The package has been delivered,” he said.
“To whom?” asked the woman to his left.
“To him.”
Silence.
Then he continued:
“The boy—Pepe. According to the archives, his lineage traces back to one of the forgotten sons of Alexander II. The blood isn’t pure, but it’s enough. The genetic sequence matches 99.87% with the remains from Vergina.”
The woman closed her notebook full of strange symbols.
“That means… he can activate the artifact.”
“If he gets to it,” added another.
The eldest among them, his voice rough and devoid of emotion, broke the silence:
“He won’t. Initiate protocol ‘ΛΕΩΝ.’ We don’t need a king.
We need silence.”
Paeonia– That Same Night
Pepe couldn’t sleep. He had read the journal from the package over and over. On the first page—a dated entry:
“1977 – First contact with the sample. DNA extracted. Conclusion: authentic. Protect it. He will return.”
Inside the box:
- A small vial with a Latin label: Ossa Regum – B
- And a USB drive with a single file: ARG33.DNK
On Pepe’s monitor, the genetic research software began running. He inserted his own raw data from 23andMe.
His heart pounded—like a phalanx marching.
Sixty seconds passed.
A message appeared:
✅ Match identified – Origin: Ancient Macedonia, Argead lineage.
Match rate: 99.87%
Then, another window popped up automatically. Red background:
“The Shadows are watching. Power down your device.”
Pepe froze.
He hadn’t signed up for this.
But something in his blood had awakened.
And sleep would no longer come.
CHAPTER 3
The Blood Speaks
The night in Paeonia had long lost its urban rhythm. Only the wind whispered between the old apartment walls, as if carrying a message no one wanted to hear. Or perhaps… one person had to.
Pepe sat still in front of the screen.
His eyes locked on the red warning:
“The Shadows are watching.”
He moved quickly—disabled the Wi-Fi, closed all tabs. Everything. Even the lights. Only the laptop screen remained, glowing in silence.
In his hand—the vial labeled Ossa Regum – B.
He held it like it was alive.
And in that moment, he began to feel something strange.
First—a pressure at his temples.
Then—a sound.
Very soft, almost silent… but rhythmic.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
His heart? No.
The sound was not from the body, but not entirely outside either.
It came… from within the blood.
“Αλεξάνδρου φωνή…”
(Alexander’s voice…)
He turned. No one.
Looked out the window. Only darkness.
He looked at his reflection on the screen. And there…
For a fraction of a second…
He wasn’t alone.
Next to his face—a shadowed figure in bronze armor, wearing a lion-shaped helm. Eyes glowing—not with light, but with memory that never died.
“The blood knows you.
They will come.
Do not run. Fight.”
Silence again.
Pepe took a deep breath. This wasn’t a dream.
Not a hallucination.
This was an activation.
The blood long dormant… was now awakening.
Not just his—but something much greater.
From the journal, a map slipped out.
Ancient. Half-torn.
But clearly marked coordinates in Eastern Macedonia—Amphipolis.
At the bottom:
“The path to the Tomb of the Lion passes through three keys.
The first lies in Thessaloniki.
The second—beneath Water.
The third—in Thebes.”
Pepe turned off the screen.
He packed the journal into his bag.
Locked the vial back into the metal box.
It was time to travel.
Not to find the truth…
…but to find himself.
CHAPTER 4
The Key of Thessaloniki
Dawn broke as the train slowly approached Thessaloniki. Pepe sat by the window, his eyes fixed on the horizon but his thoughts buried deep in the journal. He didn’t need navigation—the coordinates were etched into him, and something within was guiding him.
The journal mentioned a name:
“Βασίλειος Θ.” – The Keeper of the First Key.
Location: Σχολή Αριστοτελική, Egnatia Street 234.
He stepped out of the taxi into the eastern part of the city, where old Byzantine walls merged with the concrete reality of modern times. The street was quiet, with only a few bookshops and an old, half-shuttered building bearing the sign:
“Aristotelian School – Founded 1832.”
The door was locked, but there was an old, non-electric bell. Pepe pulled it.
The sound echoed as if falling through centuries.
After a few minutes, the door creaked open.
An old man with white hair and a gentle voice stood at the threshold. He wore a toga over a woolen coat.
“You are him?” he asked, without introduction.
“I don’t know what I am. But I came to find something that’s mine,” Pepe replied.
The old man stepped back and nodded:
“Come in, Pepe. From today on, the past will speak to you in a language few can understand.”
Inside the School
The scent of paper, stone, and wax filled the air. Thousands of books, manuscripts, maps. And on the wall—a stone slab engraved with the words:
“Ο ΛΕΩΝ ΔΕΝ ΠΕΘΑΙΝΕΙ, ΜΟΝΟ ΠΑΖΙ”
(“The lion does not die, he only sleeps.”)
The old man—Vasileios—handed him an old wooden box. On it—the Vergina Sun symbol, but with three circles carved into the rays.
“The first key,” he said. “But it’s not a key as you imagine. It’s a test. You must answer a question—without speaking.”
Pepe opened the box. Inside—an ancient bronze plate with geometric shapes and three Latin letters:
S • V • B
The old man closed his eyes.
“Now… touch it with your palm. If the blood truly lives in you—it will activate.”
Pepe placed his hand on the plate.
Suddenly, everything vanished.
The space around him turned into darkness laced with sparks.
A voice. Deep. Familiar… not from outside, but from within:
“Salvum Veritas Bellator…
– Savior of Truth, Warrior by Blood.”
The symbols on the plate glowed. From them emerged a projection: an image of a stone terrace, hidden behind a waterfall.
Beneath it:
Key #2 – ‘Under Water.’
Pepe fell to his knees. Vasileios caught him before he lost balance.
“It accepted you. That means… the legend is true.”
Pepe only whispered:
“The next key is… in the Water.”
CHAPTER 5
Under Water
The road to Vodoca was quiet and heavy. Pepe traveled alone—unannounced, without a plan.
The only thing guiding him was the image from the plate: a stone terrace behind a waterfall, and a symbol with three rays—similar to the Vergina star, but distorted, as if submerged in water for a long time.
In Strumica, no one asked questions.
The elders wouldn’t meet his eyes, as if sensing something unexplainable.
The young receptionist at the motel he stayed in whispered:
“Vodoca… is not just a monastery. Long ago, down there, there was something older. Much older.”
Saturday morning. Quiet sky.
Pepe set off on foot.
After an hour of climbing through an overgrown path, he arrived at the place from the vision—a forgotten waterfall, where water slid down moss-covered stone, and beneath it—a dark crevice, like a mouth waiting.
He felt it before he saw it:
The place was calling to him.
He descended beneath the waterfall.
The stone slabs were slippery, but his steps were steady—like he knew exactly where to go.
Pushing through the water curtain, he found a crack, just wide enough for a body to pass.
Inside, it was pitch black.
Only the dim flashlight from his phone guided him.
But after a few meters, the walls began to glow—phosphorescent light.
Natural minerals? Or something… placed?
Ahead—an engraved stone, identical to the plate in Thessaloniki, but larger.
And above it—the same letters:
S • V • B
He placed his hand. Again—a vision.
But this time, there was no helmet, no army.
He saw a baby—laid on a white toga, a sword beside it.
A whisper:
“Not all lions roar.
Some simply watch… and wait.”
When he returned to himself, in a box beneath the stone, he found another item:
👉 A stone medallion with three circles, and inside—a map with coordinates pointing to Thebes, the ancient city in Boeotia, present-day Greece.
But beside it, a warning:
“Do not go alone. Thebes does not forgive.
The last who sought the third key never returned.”
— Helenos
Pepe gripped the medallion.
He knew he was stepping into something far older, far deeper than a personal quest.
This was no longer just about blood…
This was a vow.
CHAPTER 6
The Third Key – Thebes, Boeotia
The winds above Boeotia were dry, sharp, and ancient. Thebes—once the mighty force of ancient Greece—was now a quiet town, home to a few archaeological digs, fewer visitors, and only one true guardian.
Pepe had landed in Athens, and from there, the road to Thebes was not far—but the journey had taken two years of research, now funneling into a single path. With him, he carried the medallion from Vodoca, the journal from Vergina, and… a growing sense that he was not alone.
According to the map, the third location was beneath the old library of Thebes, closed to the public. The building had been restored, but due to “security reasons,” no one was allowed inside.
No one… except someone with the correct symbol.
On the rear wall of the structure, hidden beneath moss and graffiti, Pepe found the recess that matched the medallion perfectly.
He inserted it—and heard the sound.
A deep, underground click.
The door opened, revealing spiral stairs—narrow, stone, damp.
Inside – Darkness, Books, Codes
He descended. Silence.
At the bottom—a triangular room.
Each wall held a stone plaque covered in symbols.
At the center—an empty stone throne.
Before it—a crystalline object shaped like a triangle, engraved with a leaping lion.
On the first plaque, an ancient script read:
“When truth is buried across three lands,
Only the one who unites them shall reveal the name that must not be spoken.”
On the second plaque—a golden dish, inscribed on the bottom:
“Alexander, son of Philip” (Αλέξανδρος Φίλιππου)
Pepe knelt. He touched the stone with both hands. And then…
The Vision That Changed Everything
This time, no soldiers.
No helmets.
He saw a palace.
A baby in the arms of a one-eyed man—Philip.
He saw a mother carrying the child across a border, tears streaming, whispering:
“Let him survive. If he ever returns… let him remember.”
He saw people smuggling him through hills, nations, and centuries.
The blood never died.
It simply melted into the people.
Now was the time to return.
When he awoke, the object in his hands had transformed—
from an ordinary stone into a glowing crystal marked with the Argead symbol, pulsing from within.
A voice whispered:
“This is not a key.
This is a crown.”
The Exit
When he emerged from the underground chamber, someone was already waiting.
A shadowed figure, wearing glasses and a leather coat.
“Pepe… you opened the door. Now they all know.”
“Who are you?” Pepe asked.
“It’s not important who I am…
What matters is what you are.
The last Argead.
And they… are already coming for you.”
CHAPTER 7
The Pursuit
The sky above Thebes was terrifyingly clear. No clouds. No noise. Just silence foretelling a storm.
Pepe didn’t remember how he exited the underground chamber. The crystal—now activated—was held in his inner jacket pocket, close to his heart. Each of his steps pulsed in sync with the glow of the crystal.
It was no longer just an artifact.
It was a heart.
Perhaps… the soul of something greater.
But this wasn’t the end—it was the beginning of the hunt.
First Sign: Electronic Blackout
When he tried to call a taxi, his phone was dead.
No network. No internet.
No SIM cards worked.
He looked around—the streets were empty. Too quiet.
Then—a sound.
Far off, but too close:
An electronic hum… a drone.
He looked up—a small black dot in the sky.
Tracking him.
He turned quickly and walked down alleys not found on tourist maps.
Along the way, he spotted a man in a dark jacket staring at him without blinking.
Then another—by a café entrance.
Then a third—by a parked Lada.
They weren’t chasing him with weapons.
They were watching.
Helenos knows.
Second Encounter – A Warning
In a narrow passage, Pepe was stopped.
Not by words.
By a shadow.
A man with his face hidden under a hood handed him a small scroll.
He said nothing. Just nodded.
Then vanished.
Pepe opened it.
“Do not run toward the border.
They want to catch you there.
There is another path.
Follow the Light – it will find you.
— A.”
Flight Through Shadows
Night fell, but brought no rest.
Pepe moved through rural paths, avoiding main roads.
Even though he was alone, he felt breath at his back.
Several times—a quiet vehicle vanished into the dark.
Three times—distant lights flickered… then went out.
There was no time to rest. No room for doubt.
Only step… by step.
Until he reached an old monastery—forgotten, unmarked.
On the door—the same star engraved as the one on the crystal.
Inside – The Voice He Didn’t Expect
“You’ve come, finally,” said a familiar voice.
Pepe froze. He recognized it.
The old man from Thessaloniki—Vasileios.
“I knew they’d find you.
And I knew you wouldn’t give in.”
“How did you get here?” Pepe asked.
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that the crystal is awake.
And you’re alive.
Now… you must descend beneath the monastery.
There lies the final record—not from kings…
but from the Guardians.
Those who kept the secret from the world.”
Chapter 8
The Record of the Guardians
They descended beneath the monastery, lanterns in hand, carefully, silently.
Vasileios didn’t ask.
PEPE didn’t explain.
The descent wound through a spiral tunnel.
The walls were inscribed with symbols—not Greek, Latin, or Macedonian—but a mixture… a code only the chosen could decipher.
At the bottom—a stone chamber.
Inside—a single stone wall with a metal door holding three keyholes, arranged in a triangle.
PEPE pulled out the objects:
- The medallion from Vodoca
- The crystal from Thebes
- The bronze plate from Thessaloniki
All three were keys.
All three—fit perfectly.
Light.
The wall split open.
Inside—a room like a chapel, but not for gods.
For vows.
At the center—a silver slab engraved with:
“Record of the Guardians of the Blood –
Year 320 BC”
The text was short, but every word carried the weight of an empire:
**”When Alexander saw the end,
He knew the world was not ready for his seed.
The blood he carried was too pure—and too dangerous.
It must not be mixed.
That is why his child would be hidden.
Not to save him.
But to save the world.
And it will remain hidden
Until the world begins to choke on its own lies.
When truth becomes revolution,
When lies become law,
When the name is forgotten…
Then the Blood will return.
Not to rule—
But to remind.
— The Vow of the Lion”**
PEPE stood in silence.
He trembled.
Not from fear—but from the weight of truth.
“This is not myth. This is not religion.
This is… history that had to stay silent.
And now—it must be awakened.”
PEPE looked at him.
“Why now?”
“Because today’s world is as lost as it was when Alexander died.
It needs truth.
It needs a voice… unafraid of the past.”
Somewhere above…
a satellite locked on to their heat signature.
“Location confirmed. We’re ready.”
The Shadow of Helenos was descending.
CHAPTER 9
Blood Against the Shadows
Right after the discovery of the Record of the Guardians, something unexpected happened—the walls began to vibrate. Faintly, but enough for Vasileios to notice.
“They found us. We need an exit.”
“Is there another way?” Pepe asked.
“There’s always another way. But this time… it’s not for running.”
At the exit of the underground chamber, three figures were waiting. Silent. Emotionless. Dressed in black, with devices mounted on their shoulders.
They looked like soldiers—but something far worse.
They were the kind of people no one ever remembers.
One of them stepped forward.
He looked Pepe straight in the eyes.
“Mr. Pepe,” he said with unnerving calm, “you are carrying something that does not belong to you.”
Pepe didn’t answer.
The crystal pulsed in his pocket.
The voice repeated:
“Return the artifact, and no one will be harmed. Everything else… will be forgotten.”
Vasileios stepped forward.
“He carries something no one deserves anymore—but that everyone needs to hear.
The truth.”
The man in black gave a cold look.
“We do not fight the truth.
Only its consequences.”
Then… he gave the signal.
From every direction—three armed agents emerged from the shadows.
Not attacking—only positioning.
To intimidate.
But Pepe didn’t back down.
He pulled out the crystal and raised it high.
Light began to radiate from it—stronger and stronger.
Symbols appeared on the walls—symbols only blood could activate.
The pulse of the crystal—was no longer just light.
It was sound.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Like a heart.
Two thousand years old.
Now… awakened.
Magnetic Storm – The Attackers Retreat
Suddenly, all of the agents’ devices began to spark.
Their communication systems went down. The signal vanished.
The oldest of them shouted:
“Retreat! He has an active artifact. He’s not safe for extraction!”
And they disappeared—just as suddenly as they had appeared.
Vasileios fell to his knees from exhaustion.
“Now… they know it’s you.”
Pepe looked at the crystal. The light receded.
But the symbols on the wall remained.
The blood will speak.
The blood will unite.
The blood… will be remembered.
