"Shall we begin anew?"
The candle flickers.
I could feel the heat of their gaze, the intensity of those eyes that demanded more than just the truth. Delivering the clarity was to be easy enough. Yet it never was. They twisted all that I spoke of, painted it with their own darkness, and now they demand for more.
Truth is not the healer the world believes her to be. She is the mirror that shows you who you truly are. But oh — How you recoil at your own reflection! Truth stands, serene, untouched by the darkness she calls forth.
The ones who claim to be honest—they dress their lies in the finest clothes, thinking they’ve outsmarted the world. They speak of morality, of clarity, of truth, and I can almost hear the echo of their hypocrisy as they claim the mantle of righteousness. And the others, the ones who follow, who claim they live by truth alone—they will come to me, too. I will allow them to drink from the cup they think holds purity, and when they swallow, they will choke on it.
Afraid, you say?
Afraid of what, precisely? Of myself — The one entity that promises no betrayal? But dearest, I am a brutal lover. I give you no lies, no false promises. I wish to show you the world as it is—raw and unfiltered. Your fears, your regrets, your flaws, all laid bare.
You believe you wish to seek me, but you do not seek the Truth, merely something to hold on to. Lies are the balm to your wounds, while I am the wound itself.
But beneath the sanctity of honesty, what lies hidden? For in Truth’s grasp, nothing remains unscathed.
I do not remind them, having grown rather weary of the monotonous journey. What good would it do to remind them of the truth they have long abandoned? They speak as they do, and I Listen as I have Always. I feel no anger as they fabricate my essence. There is no wrath — None to be deemed comparable to the abyss which only takes with no end at seams. Only a deep, abiding sorrow one cannot quench. I am not here to punish them. I am only here to exist.
The absurdity of human struggle is my muse. The fervent cries for justice, the self-righteous claims of righteousness—how they amuse me. I care not for them. I am Truth — and she is but ruthless. I do not rush to expose lies, nor do I shield any from the inevitable exposure of their falsehoods.
What matters to me is that I exist, unchanged and eternal, regardless of what people believe. I do not serve humanity; humanity serves only its need for myself, bending their lives around the fragile shell of truth that they hope will justify their actions. They don’t understand that the truth is not theirs to mold, they simply grasp at her as though they could tame her.
She has no qualms about how the world rots with corruption, how ideals are turned into hollow words and morals twisted into convenient tools. The truth needs no defenders. It will outlast everything. She allows humanity to pretend, to uphold systems, to speak of virtues and justice, knowing that in the end, all the lies and pretenses will simply melt away in my presence. When they realize that their so-called honesty was nothing more than a veil they wore to protect themselves from the chaos I bring.
The world calls to her, asking for salvation, for answers. But Truth, as always, remains silent. She doesn't care for their pleas. They can rage against the falseness around them, but their efforts are only as fleeting as the lies they tell. I know their deceptions will crumble, and the world will continue to turn, unchanged. In that, I am both the most cruel and most freeing force: For though the lies will unravel, they will be replaced by new ones, and the cycle will continue, like a serpent eating it's own tail.
I am the virtue that reveals the depth of their own corruption, yet offers no consolation. Not a pure ideal. Not a virtue to be revered. I am the darkness that lurks behind the light. There is no honour in me. No purity. No justice. I am not here to save them for I am no ally but a predator, here to destroy them. And when the last one has fallen, when their cries have faded into silence, I will be left standing alone.
They will know my name. They will know what it is to stand before me and feel their very souls split open under the weight of what they cannot deny.
But until then, I remain a silent witness, hearing them speak in my name.
The truth, as it always is, had been silenced.
"Shall we begin anew?"
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