"He who fights monsters should see to it that he himself does not become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you."
-Friedrich Nietzsche
Dear Kalec,
As I know my mental decline is inevitable, I have decided to write you this letter now while my mind is still my own.
Someday on your travels you will come to learn many things about your mother and I. I will not attempt to tell you the truth, because with the wisdom of age comes the knowledge that truth is not hard like iron as most believe. Truth is more like the sea, too vast to know fully, and constantly changing. It is no less soft for that, however, as any captain can tell you. The truth is just as dangerous and treacherous as the sea.
You know that your mother fell, but she is not alone. They always end the story after the hero defeats the villain, but the truth is more complicated. Those we hail as heroes are always men and women of considerable power and skill, and those with power will always seek to use it.
In the end, the heroes are the ones who die in battle. One cannot spend their time in battle, killing over and over and not be effected, even if that killing is done for good reasons. Those of us who survive, time and time again are never the same. In the end, we all fall. Some by misfortune, such as your mother, some by the slow corruption of their own power... and some, by choice.
I watched your mother fall. I watched my friend Tamur flee in fear of his own power. I was forced to kill my best friend to save his family after he was corrupted by cultists. Time and again I saw the same truth, and in the fate of my loved ones I saw my own. I asked myself, had I come into the same circumstances as your mother, would I have fallen as well? I believe the answer is yes.
Everyday I had to make choices. I cannot save everyone, so who is saved, and who is not? Which of my enemies deserve death, and which ones forgiveness? Who can be trusted, who cannot? The more you kill, the easier it becomes. The more you sacrifice others to your own inaction the less you feel it. People become tools. You have no time for those who can't help you. You learn to surround yourself with others like you, others who are strong... and you begin to despise weakness. You begin to hate these people who always call upon you for help and never help themselves. Who are they to choose not to learn to defend themselves, then dare complain when what they have is taken by force? Don't they deserve it for their weakness? Don't you deserve to take what you want, by nature of your own power?
The line between hero and villain is more blurred than you may believe. Your mother and I understood this. We both fought against the darkness inside ourselves. Your mother lost that battle, and when she fell, I lost the strength to carry on. I turned away from my own power before it could corrupt me. It was never age or circumstance that caused the decay of my abilities. It was choice. I choose to live out the rest of my life in peace, just a simple priest in the woods, rather than keep my skills sharp.
You may feel I am a coward for that. I will not dispute it, until you've lived this life and felt what I have, you will not understand. I had hoped you never would, but if you are dedicated to this path, then I hope that when the time comes, you find the strength to lay down your sword and begin living your own life. You may find laying down your sword isn't an act of cowardice, but an act of strength. Wielding power is always easier than discarding it.
Please do not judge your mother too harshly. Whatever else she is, she is still your mother, and she loves you. I will not try to apologize for her or justify her actions. I cannot condone them anymore than you can, but I hope in time you will try to understand them.
I am proud of you, Kalec. I know you will do great things and I regret I will not be there to see them. Know that you and your sister always have my love.
Love,
Your father, Rafferty.
