The air tastes like iron and lies. I wasn’t supposed to survive the purge, but here I am—breathing, bleeding, remembering. They erased our history, silenced the truth, and called it peace. But the scars beneath my skin still whisper their secrets. Now, the rebellion stirs in the shadows, and every ally could be a traitor. Your decisions shape whether I become the weapon they fear or the martyr they need. This is not freedom. This is reckoning.