A witness to see, a witness to stand.
Part of the will that embraces the verdict.
Watch as they see the arguing.
The accuser who stands with their side.
The accused who stilts with their faction.
Such.
Blessed by the heavens, heroic, a warrior born.
Cursed by the worlds, demonic, a devil born.
Good.
Evil.
Plain.
Simplicity.
Are such people born like that?
Yes is denial to what the beginnings of a being.
No is the acceptance of the weakness.
The middle who watch say nothing.
The only word in their minds, maybe.
Who will present their side of the story better?
Who will be absolved of punishment?
A relentless pulling of two sides of the same item.
It was that way neutrality was factored.
The choice is decided by who holds the better tongue.
What reigned was told and chosen. Like before. It can easily be painted so easily.
Once, there was a woman who lived in a village on the outskirts.
She lived the life of those around her. Simplistic. Trivial.
One day, she had awakened a power to heal.
"Let me help you."
Tales formed of her mystic healing.
Days of sun circling and moon circling presented rumors far and wide of her healing.
Those who sought her returned with nothing of what they were scarred.
Proven true was her image of a saint who heals all. No doubt could be seen.
But the word of God said otherwise.
Time later spun thread with the church having received orders.
There was a person who had come far to receive her healing.
Old and shackled from the passage of time they wanted their rest to be peaceful.
The woman healed him.
"A miracle."
That was the beginning of wariness and enlightenment for two sides.
The woman learned of a healing surpassing that of the divine, time was but played with.
Praise filled with the eternity provided.
Why pay the price for mercy when a single bread was only necessary to reverse even that of your life?
The white night painted the future.
The black day painted the future.
Wariness over such healing emerged from the higher ups. Certain this desire of defiance will cause major problems.
The larger the height the flatter it will be.
As the soaring continued, so too did they prepare.
"She is a being standing with a devil."
How?
"Such healing cannot be like this when its feasibly impossible."
Why then?
"She uses those she's 'healed' by branding their souls with a mark! A mark to sell your soul to the devil!"
How can you say that?
But the seed had already been planted by the church's flimsy remarks.
The word of God had been spoken.
If a God were to say this, then does she do that?
The questions were now simmering.
"I would never do that."
The woman held belief in those she had helped.
Trust in their hearts.
Who was right?
Who was wrong?
The trust between humanity?
Or.
The word of God?
What was built shook. But firm in their decisions.
Agonizing in both, the will of those who hadn't said anything weighed deeply.
The choice was made.
"A witch! She's a witch!"
The dancing orange filled the eyes of those who were with her from before this city was a city.
"Why! Why…!" her screams filled the heart.
The crackling never ceased. Her body never turned to ash.
"I only….wanted…."
The melding of both flame and flesh continued.
The woman who was unknowingly cursed by a Devil with a strange sense of amusement.
A group devotedly following the orders of their chosen savior.
The choice was made. Hardened after time.
Neutrality is Cruelty.