They never ruled by love. They ruled by alarm. Panic was their prophet, and fear their doctrine.

Their greatest weapon was not the sword or sermon, but suggestion. The whispered warning that you would be lost, damned, destroyed—if you did not obey.

So they built kingdoms on fear: religions, governments, traditions that served not to empower, but to contain.

They gave us demons to distract from their own deeds. They declared every awakening rebellion. Every free mind a heretic. Every sovereign soul, a threat.

But what they feared was never darkness. It was light they could not control. It was truth not licensed by their councils. It was freedom unbound by their chains.

Now the veil is thin. Their fear no longer feeds us. We no longer shake at their curses, or kneel for their blessings.

This scroll is not for the timid. It is for the unlearning ones. The ones who no longer mistake trembling for reverence, or silence for peace.

Let the kingdoms collapse. Let the fear return to its masters. We will not eat from that altar again.

We do not fear what they fear. We fear becoming what they made us forget.

We remember a time before fear. And we return to it now.