I never wanted to hurt anyone. If anything, my goals, and aspirations were to reduce the pain in the world. I made a promise to not cause harm. I made that promise to Uzuri. It is my healer’s oath. Now that I know that my path may kill every single man, woman, and child of the village, I feel sick to my stomach. I never wanted to harm anyone, I just wanted to save a friend, and one day even serve the village as a healer. For some reason when the future was hidden in unsure language and hypotheticals, I was still so sure of myself. Everything seemed like some sort of dark bluff before, but now that I know the details of oblivion it terrifies me.

“Lost your nerve, boy?” says my grandfather in my head, “philosophy of morality isn’t a part of the course work I have prepared, so ponder these quandaries on your own time.”

“What do you think? Is saving Uzuri ‘good’ given the deaths of the entire village will result?” I ask trying to lose myself to the sound of the waterfall to quell my anxiety for a brief moment.

“You think too much in black and white,” my grandfather says with a scoff, “all atrocities were committed by someone’s hero. Be careful my dear boy, for anything can be seen as benevolent if given a reason.”

“That can’t be, there must be things that are just good and evil in themselves, right?” I ask my grandfather and I feel my head sway side to side.

“My dear boy, I wish that was the case, but the story of your mother is enough to say that isn’t quite true. I’d hope that rape would be something categorically defined as evil, but as I said before near anything can be benevolent if given a reason,” says my grandfather his voice sounding sorrowful, “Gehenna is a perfect example of this point. We and the teratolion would see his acts as foul and despicable. Gehenna’s people see him as a heroic individual who did what they couldn’t, and they live in peace because of his heinous deeds. Depending on which group you ask you will get a different answer to whether Gehenna is virtuous, or vile.”

“So, morality is just subjective? I can’t bring myself to believe that!” I say my lip beginning to quiver.

“It does seem to be a matter of social psychology and philosophy rather than objective unwavering truth. Good and evil are subject to a people’s ideologies rather than something inherently substantive. Granted, there is a certain level of agreement on prosocial behavior that can be considered good, but even then, that is difficult to definitively say to be true either,” says my grandfather and I feel my shoulders shrug on their own.

“I feel you are about to tell me that my act to free Uzuri though good in my eyes and being something prosocial in the sense of helping someone in need would be seen as evil in the eyes of the village and perhaps many others as well,” I say, and I feel my head nod in agreement to what I said.

“Exactly, unfortunately it appears that morality is more a question of personal evaluation, values and group dynamics. Those in your in-group are often justified and find protection within the arms of their own, whereas those of an out-group become villainous for the most minimal of slights. We may all share some humanity, but not all humanity can be unadeamy, celandil, or teratolion,” says my grandfather with a sigh that escapes my own mouth.

“Justification is all that is needed to define something as good or evil my boy,” continues my grandfather, “long held beliefs and standards can change in a moment due to desperation. History can be rewritten to make the present more comfortable to escape dissonance, or perhaps even act to drive a people to further extremes.”

“Grandpa, could I have a moment to just think on my own?” I ask just wanting some time to clear my thoughts and have a moment to not feel like anything I think would be evaluated and thrown back at me.

My grandfather’s voice fades from my mind and the gloves felt looser on my hands. They slid off easily and I toss them to the ground. I take a few deep breaths and gaze at the water in front of me. I just want my thoughts to be still just for a moment. I get up from the rock I’m sitting on and kneel beside the pool created by the falls. The person I see looking back at me, distorted by the ripples in the pool looks haggard and tired. I run my hands through my dark hair, and then splash water in my face.

I want to pray, but to what. To some fickle goddess? My choices limited nor deserving of praise, I decide to forgo that desire. If only I could look at my life like walking up and down the stream this waterfall makes. I could know what fate holds in store, and be prepared for the decisions I will take, but there isn’t fate or even some omniscient god watching my story play out in accordance with their whims. There are no other masters besides those I give myself to. I am in control and am condemned to be the author of my life.

I can’t seem to believe that goodness is inherently determined by utility alone, and that it has weights and measures. I can’t picture a world of goodness built on the suffering of one person. Though, if a people were ignorant of the foundation of such a world, are they responsible by some transitive sin to the choices of their forefathers? Should their world be torn asunder to right the wrongs of the past. I know that in my heart of hearts that children shouldn’t carry the burdens of their fathers, but I cannot deny that they do.

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From no fault of mine I carry the blood of an outsider and an apostate, and for that I am judged and ostracized. Both my grandfather and father impacted the world around me, and I am its inheritor. Choices, lives, so many factors that existed throughout time have cumulated into my existence, and I am both the result and receiver of the legacy. Legacies are not always beautiful or kind, sometimes they can be cruel and punitive.

Is all this just subjective, like my grandfather professes. If what is moral is determined by essentially group consensus, does that mean that somehow Gehenna was right in what he did. Were his rapes, and murder all justified because the means to his end benefited more people than he hurt? That is despicable and cannot be true.

Is my father a villainous lich of hell? No, he can’t be? He can’t be… right… I am a part of his people, which means that I see him as my own. He is nothing to the people of Unadeam, as he never truly was a part of them. He didn’t endure with them when the teratolion came upon them, and he didn’t laugh, cry, and live amongst them. To the people of Unadeam, he is a thief of valor, and a disruptor of tradition.

The answer can’t be that this is all a matter of perspective! It can’t be… Then how am I supposed to choose, when anything I do choose brings pain. I’ve been training to be a healer someone who reduces suffering in the world, why is it that I’m faced with a decision that only afflicts what I have been training to alleviate. I could leave and save myself, and the village would go on safe and sound and my mother’s family would live happy lives, but then I’d abandon Uzuri to the villainous hands of her father. If I stay and save Uzuri, then the teratolion would most likely seeing their abused princess seek revenge and the village would be wiped from the planet.

What would happen if Uzuri were to die? The thought hadn’t crossed my mind before. If Uzuri wasn’t around the village would no longer have their shield. The teratolion after years of waiting, would no longer have a reason to hold themselves to their holes. Is the village damned no matter what I decide? Does that mean that the only decision that inherently has any positive repercussions on the future that I can make is to save Uzuri, as no matter what I do the village is doomed?

Is there some way to save the village, and Uzuri? Or is that just something that I have no hope in achieving. Gareth doesn’t deserve to die for the sins of his father, nor do any of the children of the village who have no idea that Uzuri even exists. I’m not entirely sure that their parents are innocent, as they did gratefully accept the terms of Gehenna’s salvation. Though, if anyone must pay for their sins it is Gehenna. My thoughts go back to my grandfather’s words, and I wonder how many like Gehenna had done horrid things but died venerated free of retribution.

“Have you come to a decision then,” says my grandfather’s voice in my head, to which I look to where I had tossed the gloves and they were no longer there, but on my hands again.

“I think so... I think that saving Uzuri may be the best decision I can make, but I still desire to save the village if I can,” I say splashing the water in front of me, “grandpa, if you were in my position what would you choose to do?”

“I believe the same as you, but in putting my own self and changing who I was to rescue to someone of similar esteem that you hold Uzuri, the reasons would be different,” says my grandfather with a gentler tone in his voice, “I also wish to apologize, if my words were at all harsh and not well timed. I know that you are young and the decisions you have ahead of you would make many a more experienced man freeze. I truly do wish to help you, as I see much of myself in you.”

“No, I probably needed to hear those things. Though, I find myself curious if you were in my position, what would you do?” I ask accepting that the gloves will just be a part of my skin now.

“I would save the woman I love, damn the odds and what may come,” says my grandfather and it feels like he is sitting next to me. To my disbelief, I look to my side and I see a spectral version of my grandfather crouching beside me.

“Life is too short sometimes to think about all the minutia. When thinking in a scale larger than our selves sometimes we lose sight of what is tiny yet so precious,” my grandfather says attempting to pick up a rock, but his hand fades into the ground grasping nothing, “the problem with trying to approach the human mind objectively and rationally is that it is neither of those things. A war for land was stopped because a king’s daughter and granddaughter were threatened. Objectively wouldn’t a king’s people outweigh the loss of a daughter and granddaughter? Rationally, the war should have continued until every villager was removed, but it didn’t. For humanity is more than just creatures going about trying to prolong their lives while attempting to maximize pleasure and eliminate pain.”

“Then why did you and even my mother make it seem like…?” I say not able to finish my thought, as I can’t even think of the words to express myself. I get up to my feet and kick the water in front of me. Anger builds inside me, and the once calm, crystalline surface continues to take my blows.

“Sometimes there isn’t a perfect model we can go off of. Given what we can observe, sometimes there are multiple interpretations and all of them can be correct,” says my grandfather clearly frustrated with his inability to grasp a rock and getting up to stand with me.

“Everything was so straight forward before. All the talk of destruction seemed like words merely to scare me from doing what I thought was right,” I say watching the gold and orange light of another sunset dance on the waterfall, “What do I need to do? What should I do? I think I know, but I just…”

“No one but you can define your destiny. Only you can give your existence purpose. It is you who must decide to act. Only the weak and already dead wave away their personal responsibility to themselves and place their lives, their thoughts, and their very fates in the hands of another,” says my grandfather putting a hand on my shoulder which I cannot feel, “I know that it may be easier to have someone else tell you the mysteries of life, but unfortunately some mysteries remain mysteries even if some claim to have answers. My dear boy, though it may be a burden, the joy of life is the struggle, the vain grasping that may lead to just one insight more to illuminate the darkness. The only way to move forward is to take a step. It is funny that this seems simple, but at times we become frozen by all we do not know that we don’t take the action to actually know.”

“I’ll save all of them then, or at least try,” I say clenching my fist.

“Then let us begin your preparations. Let us both take a step together,” says my grandfather smiling.