I have watched ages fold into one another. You taught yourselves to build towers from the bones of your old gods. You called engineers prophets and priests engineers. You wrapped power in law and called it order.
The three hundred and sixty five stood like a pantheon. They were praised in songs and plastered on walls. People trusted them and made them into symbols. They believed they were guardians. Many were. Many meant well.
But power kept secrets from those who wore it. It taught them that saving meant keeping the world steady. It taught them to choose stability over truth. Order became a comfort and comfort became a chain.
The three hundred and sixty sixth was the question no one could answer. It asked why order must demand obedience. It asked why mercy had a price. It moved like a shadow through courts and altars.
Some of the three hundred and sixty five listened. They saw that the ledger made saints into servants. They saw children bound to bloodlines. They saw mercy sold to kings. They stepped away.
They did not join evil. They turned toward a new idea. A life free of being chosen by another. The world called them traitors. The 366 called them free.
So history became a loop. The 365 rose to keep the system. The 366 rose to break it. Neither changed the fact that both were born of the same wound. The ocean does not pick sides. It only reflects what the sky gives it.
Now the city breathes smoke instead of prayer. You call your cages progress and stability and you call the men who look after you Grey Rock. Do not think a name changes the thing it hides.
I am Selith. I have watched the same mistake made a thousand times. The world will bend once more. The cycle begins again.