Ashe and I walk quietly through the tunnels of the teratolion until the tunnel we are following empties out into the woods of Unadeam. To my horror we had chosen a tunnel that emptied out to my greatest shame. Before us were the ruins of the Gehennan village and the overwhelming feelings I felt the day it was destroyed tear into me once again. I fell to my knees and the copious amounts of alcohol I had consumed spilled from my stomach onto the ground. My breathing comes in labored rasps as my memories rip into me. I find myself desperately crawling on the ground to try to get away from this place, only to find myself almost falling into the pit where I almost died a few months back. I quickly pull myself to safety and my eyes stare at the enormous statue of the goddess that my father had made years ago.

The goddess of death maliciously laughs in my mind as I see the rotted and burned flesh of Gehenna crawl from the pit in front of me. I claw at the ground to try and get away, but Gehenna continues to bear down on me. Behind him, I continue to see more and more corpses claw their way out of the pit.

“Skath why didn’t you go with Argentum and leave that girl alone!” says a voice that sounds like it was gargling dirt between each syllable. I turn around and see my father whose chest is full of spears. I try to get to my feet to run, but I collapse and find myself at the feet of the massive statue whose visage morphs to my eyes. The statue’s face contorts violently, and the faces of each smaller goddess that decorates the dress of the larger statue transform.

The faces of the smaller goddesses change to be the faces of the women that once inhabited this village and in their arms are skeletal children that cry breathy and tortured wails. My gaze meets the eyes of the main statue, and it’s the face of my mother, “my family’s blood is on your hands! You promised me that you had found a way to protect them, now look upon me and see the souls you’ve consumed! Was it worth it? Did you get your dick wet with the blood of the innocent!”

I turn away from the statue of the goddess and it is as if I’m reliving that horrible day. I feel the hands of Argentum on my shoulders as he holds me in place to watch the Gehennan village be ravaged by claw and flame. The screams of women and children fill my mind and just as quickly as they crescendo in horrific climax, my eyes see the burned remains of desolation. The pile of ash that used to be the living torturing me with silence.

“I told you! You are a demon of Martog, nothing more nothing less, whore’s shit,” says a voice that only appears in my nightmares now. I look over my shoulder and the decaying face of Gehenna greets me, “surprised lich seed? All of this is your doing. If Uzuri had never been freed, all of these people would still be alive. Her captivity sealed the teratolion in their stinking holes, and you broke our peace and delivered us to Martog’s maw. You are a bastard that should have never been born.”

The onryō of those that had fallen to my decisions clambered from the ruins and pit began to grab onto my hands and feet to pull me into oblivion. I don’t have the spirit to fight, as they pull me to the precipice of the pit that used to be venerated and feared as a physical representation of Martog’s maw. I look into the near endless hole and feel the call of the void. I take a step forward and something barrels into my chest.

My eyes snap back from my delusions into reality and I see my staff Cranbeatha pushing into my chest preventing me from falling into the hole of the site of atonement. I feel someone pulling at my clothes behind me and I collapse backward. Cran morphs his handle into a hand and both he and Ashe pull me away from the maw of Martog.

Ashe throws her arms around me, and I can hear her crying, “not you too. I can’t lose you; I’ve already lost so much.”

I get my breathing back under control and ask, “what happened?”

“You had a panic attack and started to hallucinate,” says Cran taking a humanoid form to sit next to Ashe and me, “I thought I told you to never return here.”

“I didn’t mean to return, it just kind of happened,” I say, and I try to bury my vision in Ashe’s embrace. I don’t want to see this place, as they’ll return like they always do.

“Skath, please close your eyes, we’ll get you out of here,” says Cran. I hear a shredding noise and feel Cran in his staff form press his way into my grasp and Ashe adjusts herself taking my hand and helps me up to my feet. I feel like such a child keeping my eyes closed as my friends guide me away from a nightmare made real, but if I don’t I know that I’ll be guided to the precipice again.

After walking for what feels to be an eternity Cran speaks again, “you can open your eyes now.”

We stand before the dilapidated remains of my family home. No one has lived here since my parents were murdered by Gehenna and his followers. I walk up to the cabin and run a hand across the mantle of the front door. I look over to the garden which has been taken over by the forest and weeds and a weak smile crosses my lips as I know that my father would be furious to see it like this.

I walk through the front door and see the old cooking pot which smells foul from food that went rancid moons ago, as it was prepared the day Ashe, Mary, Gareth, Lilith, Esther, to a certain extent my mother, and I executed a pigheaded scheme to save Uzuri. The same day my parents died. I walked up to my father’s chair which was still covered in pelts and sat down. I look around the cottage and memories of my parents flood my mind. I see my mother hugging a smaller me with such force that she nearly broke my neck, and hear my father laughing from the same chair I was sitting in. I see my father tending his stew pot, mindfully pondering vegetables and once he’s made his selection, they would float from his garden through the front door cut themselves to the right dimensions and dive into the pot. I see my mother barging into the front door with a deer on her shoulders, and I hear my father begin to sing. I recline a bit into my father’s chair as I listen to the pleasant memory, and I feel something brush against my arm.

I looked to my side and saw that the object that was at my side was my father’s lute. I picked the lute up and noticed that a string had snapped, and I got up and dug in a drawer in the kitchen to find a few strings my father had made in the past. I quickly restrung the instrument and remembered the lessons my father had given me. I pluck a string tentatively and it is horribly out of tune, which I attempt to correct until after much trial and error the lute sounds about right as I strum it. My hand attempts to make the same movements my father would when he sang to my mother and though every note I play is out of tune it reminds me of the tone deaf singing of my mother.

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As I continue to play the memories of the grueling lessons my father tried to force on me resurrected as my hands began to play more and more in tune. I remember the tears and complaining, but my father was determined to teach me to play correctly. Eventually, I heard my father playing his lute again and I stopped and tentatively looked around my parents’ home.

“Why’d you stop?” asks Ashe who is now seated at the table where I shared many meals with my parents. I feel something fastening to my arm and I raise my hand to the leather arm band that my mother made for me in what seems like another life. Cran must have put it on me. I haven’t been able to wear it, as it could have given away my identity as I’ve pretended to be Aeramen. The bone button that secures the leather band was intricately carved with a dear design, and I find myself wandering into my old room and I see that the dear stuffy my mother made for me had been ripped apart by an animal that had snuck its way inside my home a long time ago. I clutch what little remained of the stuffy to my chest and I walk back into the main room of the cabin and sit in my father’s chair again. Had I had a chance to mourn since I became Aeramen?

Absent mindedly I start plucking at the lute again and for the first time in a long time I start to feel peace. I become lost to the music as I strum and adjust my hand to make new notes and the lute falls from my arms onto the floor. Tears fell from my eyes, and I remember how my father embraced me after I soothed him out of a berserker’s rage. He didn’t hate me the day he died; in fact, he would have fought beside me to rescue my mother who Gehenna had taken prisoner, if Gehenna hadn’t prepared for his death first. I also remember how my mother with the last dregs of her life did all she could despite her injuries and the lascivious torture of Gehenna to try to save me. I remember that I’ve thought these things before while standing physically broken but alive in the guts of Martog.

I remember falling and my arms being torn to shreds as I tried to desperately slow my fall. I remember the horrified faces of Gehenna and his followers as the platform that once appeared to hover in the middle of the hole called Martog’s Maw exploded behind them and plummeted all of us to what seemed assured mutual destruction. I remember using the last of my spells to cleave a way to freedom and safety for Gareth and those that had listened to his and Stephen’s appeals to abandon Gehenna’s mad schemes to restore the village to what it was before. I remember fighting for those I now call friends and doing what I could to protect them from those that sought to do them harm.

“At the end of the day I guess the question you must ask yourself is if you can live with yourself, especially considering what is to come given your prior decisions. You may be labeled a villain or a hero by others, but they will be looking at you from the outside. Only you know what is inside and you will be taking what you let in everywhere you go,” says my mother in my memories, “whatever you decide, know I love you, but please be sure that you’ll be able to live with whatever comes, as it will be you who will have to bear that, no one else but you.”

“You actually reasoned with a beast,” says my father laughing as he embraces me in my mind’s eye, “I do not wish for you to be a mercenary, warrior, or a bounty hunter like I was. I do not want you to walk the path of needless bloodshed like I did, and I already know that you will do what you can to understand all you can to make choices to achieve a better world for everyone. I wish for you to maintain the heart of your oath, by becoming a protector. Know though that to protect isn’t pacificism, as there will be instances where you’ll need to fight, and maybe even shed blood to secure the best future for those you love and perhaps more than just them as well.”

“When I no longer can teach you, my wish is that you do go on to heal the world. I had to be a warrior and a leader in my time, and it seems your father was both of those things as well, but for you I hope that you will be a healer in a world that needs it. I know that hope is idealistic as well, and reality often leads even the best of dreams to become nightmares. Be prepared for pain Skath, as a celandil’s lot is to endure all manner of it and for much longer than our human brothers,” says my grandfather in my soul as fireworks ignite in the skies of my mind, “time is just a gigantic painting the universe and all living things add to, and we all leave marks throughout our lifetime that will continue to exist into infinitum. Though our marks may not go on to inspire past a certain point in the future, we still existed, and in a certain sense still exist upon the mural of time, and that is what is important. We should live like these fireworks. we will live a short time, but we should live impactfully!”

I now see Gareth and he is signaling for me to sit next to him on a stump. He stokes a campfire surrounded by skewers of meat and vegetables prepared for both of us to indulge in. I sit next to him, and he passes me a skewer. My mother, father, and grandfather then join us around the fire.

“Been awhile, hasn’t it,” says Gareth as he takes three skewers for himself that were roasting by the fire. He looks at the three skewers and with some deliberation passes me one, which I accept and hold tenderly in my hands.

“It’s my fault you are dead isn’t it,” I say twirling the skewer in between my fingertips.

Gareth shrugs and responds, “maybe, maybe not. You can’t control for everything other people do; I think our little adventure to save Uzuri revealed that much.”

“If I hadn’t rescued Uzuri then you, and my parents wouldn’t be dead. Half of the village is dead now because of me. It’s my fault that so many of my mother’s family are now gone,” I say, and I look up to my parents who smile at me. Nothing on the faces of my parents contains a hint of malice, anger, or blame, just loving happiness to see me.

“Maybe, but was your goal to kill us? If anything, you were trying to make sure no one had to die,” says Gareth with his mouth full.

My grandfather once again pipes up as the vision of Gareth fades, “Skath, what is ahead of you may not be entirely for you to choose. But you can at least embrace this very moment and find comfort in your intentions. It will be memories of these moments that will comfort you later, come what may.”

I never meant for anyone to be hurt, and I did what I could to protect as many people as possible. I couldn’t save them all, but there are so many that are alive because I acted. Every person that my mother once called family could be dead right now, but because I saved Uzuri some yet live. Only when others were in danger did I take lives to protect those that stood with me. Never did I actively make plans to kill others to further my own aspirations. I did everything in my power to save everyone despite my enemies being so determined to thwart even that pure desire.

I’ll carry the weight of those that fell because I wasn’t strong enough to save them all. I’ll do all I can to save as many as possible, and even though I may add to those that I carry within my soul, I’ll make sure that we see a brighter tomorrow together.

“Skath are you alright?” asks Ashe as she waves her hand in front of my eyes, “you’ve kind of been staring at a wall without moving for a while.”

“I’m better, but I don’t think I’ll ever be healed fully,” I admit, and I fight my mind as it tries to go back to the dark machinations of my guilt, “I know that I did my best. I know that others are more rightfully blamed for the deaths of Gareth, my parents, and the Gehennan, but I know that I share at least a portion of that blame. I want to live so that I carry them as lessons and reminders to do better, and I want to save more lives than what have been lost. I want to be worthy of the lives that now rest in my memories. My shame one day will become my pride.”

“The time has finally arrived for your dparture!” announces a voice coming from the front door of the cabin. Two large bird like wings are outstretched creating a dramatic silhouette of he who I call master, Argentum.