The stranger's voice, low and heavy, drifted through the cold air.
"You asked me about my story," he said, staring into the fire that crackled between them.
"I will tell you... but understand this: it's not a tale of heroes or miracles. It's a story of blind faith, of people who kill in the name of gods they barely understand."
Sunny listened silently, the flames dancing in his tired eyes.
The stranger began.
"Once, there was a village. Small, forgotten by kings and kingdoms. But its people clung to their faith like drowning men to driftwood. They had a holy book... or at least what they believed was holy. They twisted its words, reshaped its meanings, until every fear, every hate, every death could be justified."
He closed his eyes, as if reliving every scar.
"They spoke of purity, of cleansing the 'corrupt'. They pointed at a girl—Aira. Gentle, kind, innocent. But she was different. And to them, different meant dangerous."
Sunny tightened his fists.
"They called her a witch. Not because she harmed them, but because their fear needed a target. Because their priests said so. And because no one dared to question it. They dragged her out one night... chanting verses they could not even understand fully... and burned her alive."
The stranger's voice broke slightly.
"All in the name of their god. All for salvation. And they cheered when her screams ended."
"They thought they had saved themselves."
Sunny felt his heart clench painfully.
"You know the worst part?" the stranger whispered. "No one even remembered her name by the next winter. She became just another 'necessary sacrifice' in their history."
Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.
Then the stranger opened his eyes, filled with a storm that had never settled.
"It's no different today, Sunny. People dress differently, they talk about 'progress' and 'enlightenment'... but they still find enemies to crucify. They still kill... in the name of something they don't understand. Religion. Nation. Race. Pride."
He leaned forward, his voice low and cold.
"Blind faith isn't dead. It just wears a newer mask."
Sunny said nothing, the truth settling into his bones like a slow, cruel poison.
He felt a weight inside him — a weight he hadn't realized he was carrying all along.
And somewhere deep within... a crack formed.