A Crown of Thorns

The Child’s question was a seed of doubt that took root in the fertile ground of their new silence.

For the first time, their internal dialogue was not a symphony of shared purpose, but a cacophony of conflicting truths.

The Thinker and the Strategist, who had voted against the un-writing, now felt a sense of vindication, a cold comfort in their foresight.

The Leader, the Empath, and the Child, who had cast the deciding votes, felt the weight of their decision settle upon them, a crown of thorns.

The unity that had been their defining characteristic was fractured, perhaps irrevocably.