The future of the town of Westtry lies in my hands. I may choose to reclaim it for the living, so that future generations might settle here once more in relative safety, but by doing so I would condemn those who have already passed. Or I may free those condemned, and thus abandon this town evermore to the wraiths and ghosts that roam it untethered.
In life the choices we have are rarely between right and wrong, mostly they are between consequences, and we choose which consequence feels least wrong to us. In truth, when faced with two equally unpalatable choices, most will choose to leave that decision to others… this I cannot do.
If the fate of Westtry has taught me one thing, it is that the peoples of Nirn are in need of a bitter and fixed reminder of the consequences of putting their faith in the Princes of Oblivion. Of how these Daedric Lords mock mortal misery, of how our suffering and turmoil is but burlesque for their entertainment.
Let Westtry then be forever more a deathly monument, let it become a proverb, a moral we need teach our children, and our children need teach theirs… lest we forget, lest we become complacent, lest we ever trust again.