by cid dario
Rome does not take Syracuse in a single moment. It is already inside when the city begins to understand it is lost. The walls still stand. The watch still holds its place. Nothing has broken—yet something has failed, and by the time the first answer is called, there is no one left to answer it. The enemy is no longer outside. It is in the lanes. In the houses. In the space between one step and the next. The fighting does not begin. It is discovered. An eleven-year-old boy is already inside it when it happens. Cidius does not see the breach. He survives it. His mother dies before she can move. The line closes over her and does not open again. His father holds what remains, buying time that does not exist. His sister is lost in the lanes as the city collapses around them. By morning, nothing remains of the life he knew. He leaves with a man who does not look back. And he learns—quickly—that what took everything from him is not something he can escape. Only something he can become.
