The Stained Glass

They had learned to live without truth. But certainty? That was still offered freely.

It was waiting for them—ancient words repackaged, polished, repurposed. A foundation that did not require understanding, only belief. The promise was simple: obey, and be saved. Obey, and belong.

They spoke of love, but only for those who looked like them, prayed like them, believed as they did. They preached compassion, but only for those who needed nothing. They held up virtue, but only when it did not cost them power. And the people repeated these words, unthinking—ritual without reflection, devotion without doubt.

Doubt was dangerous. Questioning was betrayal. Those who saw the cracks learned to look away.

And those who would not look away? They were cast out, condemned by the voices that once called them brother.