This work is not a novel in the traditional sense.
It has no single protagonist, no central journey, and no promise of victory.
What it offers instead is a record—fragmented, disputed, and incomplete—of how a world learned to organize power.
The chapters that follow are written as chronicles rather than stories. They trace three distant eras:
a time before empire,
the rise of a unified order without divine legitimacy,
and the eventual collapse of that order under the weight of its own contradictions.
Names may appear briefly and vanish.
Motives may be inferred rather than declared.
Some truths are preserved only in restricted archives, while others are erased so thoroughly that their absence becomes the loudest evidence of all.
This is intentional.
In this world, history is not a neutral account of the past.
It is a tool—shaped by institutions, rewritten by victors, and softened where the truth would destabilize the present.
If you are looking for heroes, you will not find them here.
If you are looking for villains, you may find too many.
If you are looking for certainty, you may leave unsettatisfied.
But if you are interested in how legitimacy is constructed, how power survives without morality, and how entire civilizations choose what to remember and what to forget—then these chronicles are for you.
This text serves as a foundational record for a larger universe.
Some stories take place long after these events.
Others return to moments described here from different perspectives.
None of them will fully resolve what is written below.
History, in this world, does not exist to be answered.
It exists to be inherited.