Forgotten Chronicles

For three thousand years, we have always believed that history is written by the victors. We were wrong. History is erased by the victors. Ah Chen is the last gravekeeper in the Western Gobi Desert. He has no name and no past. For twelve generations and twelve hundred years, he only did one thing: burying the unclaimed bones scattered among the sand and stones in the wasteland outside the wind-eroded city one by one. No one knows who these bones belong to. No one could remember that there had ever been a civilization that could talk to the stars. They built seventy-two cities reaching the sky, mastered the power flowing in the blood of the earth, and then disappeared completely overnight. There were no wars, no natural disasters, no records. It's like they never existed. Until the shovels of the Dasheng Dynasty dug up the gray land that had been cursed for three thousand years. It's not that the devil has awakened. It's the memory coming back. The water from the Lethe River poured into the Grand Canal, and three thousand years of suppressed memories swept across the entire continent like a flood. People began to dream about strangers, began to speak long-lost languages, and began to see the truth that had been erased from history books. The order of the dynasty collapsed overnight. Ah Chen finally understood the meaning of guarding his tomb. He is not burying the dead. He is waiting for the dead to return. And the secret that had been sealed by the star civilization with the existence of the entire race was slowly opening its eyes as the first memory surfaced. This is a story about forgetting. About how much we are willing to pay for peace. About whether you still have the courage to choose the truth when everything you believe turns out to be a lie.