Note to Future Readers
If you are reading this, then you are already among the few.
The texts that survive to you are not whole, nor are they pure. They are what we could gather, before silence descended. Before the archivists disappeared. Before the Scribes began to dream.
Understand this:
We did not preserve these records because they were flawless.
We preserved them because they were alive.
You will find contradictions. Embrace them.
You will find erasures. Question them.
You will find your own reflection in these broken mirrors.
Do not seek a single truth in these pages.
Instead, let them teach you how truth fractures, how memory weathers, how faith outlasts its architects.
History was never meant to be a monument.
It was meant to be a garden—overgrown, tangled, and full of seeds we ourselves could not name.
If anything endures, let it be wonder.