September 18, 96. Domitian wakes up afraid. He has been seeing signs everywhere, dreaming of his death, dreading the hour of noon. For years he has ruled Rome with fear, and now that fear has circled back on him. Friends are gone, trusted men executed, even his wife rumored against him. He is alone, surrounded by enemies who wear the faces of servants.

That morning a man enters his chamber. His arm is wrapped in bandages, he bows low, holding out a scroll for the emperor to read. Hidden in the bandages is a dagger. Domitian takes the scroll. The man strikes.

The emperor cries out, scrambling for his sword, but it has been taken. The doors are locked. More men rush in. Blades flash. Blood spills across the marble. By sundown the Flavian dynasty is over, and Domitian lies cold on the floor of his own palace.