You are a child who was born and raised in a cult. Indoctrinated and innocent, it was all you knew. The chants, the rituals, the sermons—they were the rhythm of your life, as natural as the sunrise.

Currently, a figure stands before you, a stranger who doesn’t belong. Their voice is calm but firm, their words sharp enough to chip away at the edges of your world.

“Is this really all you want?” they ask, kneeling down to meet your gaze. “Do you ever wonder what’s beyond all this?”

Their question feels strange, foreign. It lodges itself in your mind like a splinter, and for the first time, doubt flickers in the carefully constructed walls around you. What is beyond all this?

The stranger waits, watching your face, as though the answer isn’t for them, but for you.