The Forbidden Land lay quiet, a desolate expanse of wilderness littered with the shattered husks of a forgotten civilization. At the center of this land stood the towering Shrine of Worship, and imprisoned within the shrine was the ancient god Dormin. Lacking form and existing only in voice, Dormin had renewed his ambition to regain his lost power, relying on a young man who would do anything to save his beloved, perhaps even taking on the entire world if it came to that.
Though he retained only a small fragment of his might, Dormin could still cast his gaze anywhere in the Forbidden Land, and all things between the mountains and the sea were known to him. He saw the young man fight the immense creatures that held the pieces of Dormin's power. Dormin had once despaired that the task could never be completed, for the thick hides and stone armor of the Colossi would never yield to any ordinary weapon. However, the man to whom Dormin had entrusted this mission held the old sword that was used to cripple and imprison the god long ago, and the sword's special properties made the slaying of the Colossi possible.
The formless god watched the giants fall one by one, and recalled that the mortals had a peculiar view of the ancient Colossi. Most of them, peasants and the like, did not know that the creatures served as a bulwark against Dormin regaining his lost power, but they revered the Colossi in mystical legends, and Dormin did not really know why. The young man who held the sword that slew the Colossi surely knew of the ostracism that he would most likely face when the task was done, and Dormin knew that the elites who knew the true nature of the Colossi would seek horrific retribution. Even Dormin would have to use the man's body and spirit to achieve his ends. That the young mortal would attempt the impossible and risk a torrent of suffering and irrational hatred at his own sacrifice said volumes about his unwavering courage and his dedication to his dearly missed loved one, and it was at least partially for this reason that Dormin fully intended to keep his word and restore the life of the deceased woman who that man loved so much.
Something stirred far to the north. Dormin strained himself to see what it was. Though his sphere of influence was greatly limited, he could discern the presence of a human leader of worship; one who would stop at nothing to ensure that Dormin remained imprisoned and powerless. The god sensed that he was somehow tied to the lifeless woman who lay on the altar within the shrine, and not in a good way.
So it was that Dormin saw before him two men who represented the best and worst of humanity, and he mused on why they might be considered good or evil. He was a god, far above humans, but mankind has always been fascinating to him. On a physical level, they were not much different from any other animal, but their minds held power that rivaled Dormin's. Alone among all the creations of the gods, they had the greatest capacity of reason, which Dormin saw as the most noble of attributes. In Dormin's mind, a creature's worth was directly tied to its ability to reason, such that the horses and dogs that worked with their human companions were of greater worth than the worms in the soil. Indeed, reason was the humans' only means of survival. Reason told humanity what was proper to life, and granted them morality, putting them above the amoral creatures of the world. The refusal to use reason was to the detriment of human life, so this was the true essence of immorality. In this sense, Dormin saw that morality was generally not an issue in interactions between humans and irrational animals, so long as they had the noble goal of benefiting human life.
Then came the matter of the Colossi, and whether the young man was truly terrible for slaying them. They certainly did not have the rational capacity that mankind had, and they had nothing to offer in any interaction with a reasoning creature. Dormin, for all his heavenly knowledge, did not even know if they were alive. Perhaps they were empty human constructs, and the pieces of Dormin's spirit that they held merely gave them the illusion of life. Regardless, their deaths had nothing to do with the young man's morality. Though they were great in size, their minds were far smaller even than that of the horse on which the man traveled.
Being a god, Dormin occupied the highest plane of morality, and he knew that he shared that plane with humans who made full use of their rational capacity. A living thing's worth was the result not of the size of its body, but of the size of its mind. To trade one fully rational human life for sixteen thoughtless behemoths and risk being destroyed for it was truly a sign of utmost courage and love, and though Dormin was only using the young man as a pawn, he had profound respect for him. The imprisoned god almost regretted what he would have to do to that poor soul to restore himself.
Author's note: This was written as a defense for Wander's actions. I've tired of seeing the irrational demonization of Wander, and I'll happily be the one person to jump to his defense. I have a rant on my profile explaining this, so go read that, because I'm not going to repeat myself here.