I remember the day they took him. Not because of the screams—though I still hear them in my dreams—but because he looked right at me as they dragged him out, calm like he already knew what I’d become. Grandfather stood for truth in a world that kills the honest. Now his blood is on my hands, not theirs. The Church calls it justice. I call it murder. And I won’t forget. This isn’t just about revenge. It’s about tearing down the lies they’ve built their empire on.