Year Three ThousandThe garden had one hundred graves now.One hundred heroes across three thousand years. One hundred people who died for democracy. One hundred believers who never stopped trying.The latest grave was fresh. A young woman named Chen. The twenty-fifth person to carry that name. She died at forty defending democracy against a new threat from beyond known dimensions. Died uncertain if her choice mattered. Died trying anyway. Died believing anyway.Just like Chen Feng three thousand years ago. Just like all of them.An old man stood before the hundred graves. He was the current keeper of the garden. Guardian of memory. Teacher of truth. His name was Fragment. Named after Fragment Three, the ancient Primordial who died protecting democracy twenty-four centuries ago.He did what every keeper did. What every keeper had done for three millennia. What every keeper would do forever.He told the story.C