my father’s final message

That was my father’s final story. Maybe it was my father’s final message. I wonder if that was the reason I am here; to change that which has already been written. It was sad to be fair. I had always been able to understand the meaning in the Storyteller’s myths, but this had no grand dragons or wayward ghosts, no story of chivalry and champions, only sacrifice. But sacrifice for what? Was this man with my eyes just a warmonger, or a tyrant tired of peace? Was this to be my destiny? I hate the word destiny. It is merely propaganda to forgive a fool for his travesties of victory and an excuse to ignore the suffering world around him. We make choices, some simple, some difficult; but they are made by us alone. The greatest gift a man possesses is free will.