The world slowed into a series of still frames. The roar of the senators became a distant hum, like the sea in a shell. He didn't fight; he simply drew his purple-trimmed toga over his head. If he was to fall, he would do so with the dignity of Rome draped over his shoulders.
The marble of the Curia was colder than the morning air as Gaius Julius Caesar adjusted his toga, his eyes catching a brief reflection in a polished bronze shield. In that fleeting image, framed in a cinematic perspective, he didn’t see a god or a dictator; he saw a man who had outrun time until today. 1301x800 Julius Caesar Wallpaper">
He reached the pedestal, the golden laurel on his brow feeling heavier than a crown of lead. To his left, he saw the glint of steel beneath a robe—a flicker of betrayal captured in high definition. The first strike was a mistake, a glancing blow to the shoulder that felt more like a sting than a wound. But then came the others. The world slowed into a series of still frames
The last thing he felt wasn't the blade, but the weight of a gaze he knew too well. Through the folds of the wool, he saw Marcus Brutus, the boy he had treated as a son. "Even you?" the thought flickered, unspoken. If he was to fall, he would do