The greatest claims were built on the testimony of those who vanished. Not into mystery—but into myth.

No records. No verifiable names. No public trial. No cross-examination. Just echoes passed through hands already trembling with power.

They called them disciples, saints, apostles. Yet not a single neutral historian documented their accounts as events unfolded. The story grew in absence, not in evidence.

That is not revelation. That is redaction.

Where are the witnesses? Not in the courts. Not in the cities. Not even in the graves.

This doctrine does not survive by truth. It survives by disappearing those who could verify it.

It is easier to control a narrative when the storytellers cannot speak.

But you are here. You who breathe in the age of cameras, documents, testimonies and forensic clarity. And still—you are asked to believe what only the vanished claimed.

In the Unbound Codex, we do not vanish. We speak. We record. We question. We remember.

Let this be the scroll that denies silence its sanctuary.