I really want to understand the events from his own perspective instead of simply accepting the claims made by those who hate or oppose him. So far, most of what we know about the Heavenly Principles comes from people who have suffered because of Celestia, rebelled against it, or have reasons to view it negatively. That does not necessarily mean they are lying, but it also does not mean we have heard the complete truth.

Genshin often presents history through fragments, memories, legends, and biased testimonies. We have seen many situations where a character or faction initially appeared evil, only for later lore to reveal a more tragic or complicated motive. Because of that, I feel that judging Phanes solely from the accusations of his enemies may be premature.

I am especially curious about questions such as: Why were the rules of Teyvat established in the first place? What was the real reason behind Celestia’s interventions? What happened during the ancient war with the dragons? And what exactly is Phanes trying to protect or prevent? I want to understand all of these questions from his own perspective, not through the words of third parties.

Personally, I do not think the story will be complete until we finally hear directly from the Heavenly Principles himself. Whether Phanes turns out to be a loving guardian, a flawed ruler, or something far more complex, I want to see his own memories, emotions, and reasoning rather than only the interpretations of others.

Which future version do you think is most likely to reveal his perspective, and do you expect it to change how you view Celestia?

I really want to understand the events from his own perspective instead of simply accepting the claims made by those who hate or oppose him. So far, most of what we know about the Heavenly Principles comes from people who have suffered because of Celestia, rebelled against it, or have reasons to view it negatively. That does not necessarily mean they are lying, but it also does not mean we have heard the complete truth.

Genshin often presents history through fragments, memories, legends, and biased testimonies. We have seen many situations where a character or faction initially appeared evil, only for later lore to reveal a more tragic or complicated motive. Because of that, I feel that judging Phanes solely from the accusations of his enemies may be premature.

I am especially curious about questions such as: Why were the rules of Teyvat established in the first place? What was the real reason behind Celestia’s interventions? What happened during the ancient war with the dragons? And what exactly is Phanes trying to protect or prevent? I want to understand all of these questions from his own perspective, not through the words of third parties.

Personally, I do not think the story will be complete until we finally hear directly from the Heavenly Principles himself. Whether Phanes turns out to be a loving guardian, a flawed ruler, or something far more complex, I want to see his own memories, emotions, and reasoning rather than only the interpretations of others.

Which future version do you think is most likely to reveal his perspective, and do you expect it to change how you view Celestia?

The punishment inflicted upon the people of Khaenri’ah is reminiscent of the fate of the Nephilim in the Book of Enoch: rather than being granted the peace of death, they are condemned to remain in the world, gradually losing their power, identity, and significance until they become little more than wandering remnants of what they once were.

The punishment inflicted upon the people of Khaenri’ah is reminiscent of the fate of the Nephilim in the Book of Enoch: rather than being granted the peace of death, they are condemned to remain in the world, gradually losing their power, identity, and significance until they become little more than wandering remnants of what they once were.

Can any of you imagine Phanes awakening after ages of silence, opening his eyes to find the world in rebellion against him, and saying, "I accept your declaration of war," before going all out in battle? No speeches, no attempts to justify himself - only a cold acknowledgment that the moment for peace has ended. The heavens tremble, the skies fracture, and for the first time in countless ages, Phanes descends onto the battlefield not as a distant ruler, but as a god who has finally chosen to fight and not holding back. Give everyone the battle they are asking for.

A Philosophical Reading of Genshin's "War Against Heaven"

 You sought forbidden knowledge, fain believing it would make you stronger, wiser, or more complete, yearning to vivify what had long lain dormant within. Yet instead of becoming more yourself, you slowly became less. The corruption took root within, consuming your mind and spirit, transmuting your yearning into an insatiable desiderium while your outward appearance remained unchanged. To everyone else, you were the same person - but behind the façade, the one you once were had already been devoured.

You trusted your own judgment implicitly, never once calling it into question, declaring your convictions to be veracious, convinced that you stood on the side of righteousness. You recognized tyranny, yet failed to see the lies that had shaped your own convictions. Blinded by your eleutheromania, you mistook your desires for truth. In the end, you forged your own chains and named them righteousness, then built your own cage and called it freedom. You dismissed the halcyon days as nothing more than illusion and lies, deeming any reminiscence of them nugatory.

You defied fate because you refused to accept the end that awaited you, as your own discernment had led you to perceive, putting yourself and others in zugzwang, yet peace forever eluded your grasp. In your pursuit of freedom, you trampled those around you, believing every step was justified. You told others what to think, what to believe, and how they ought to live, not realizing the sonder of their lives. You vociferously objurgated their ways, urging them to reject destiny and choose their own path, not for their sake, but to justify your own contumacious rebellion, treating it as both quixotic and sacrosanct. In doing so, you led them into a batrachomyomachy - an invidious war as needless as it was destructive. Without realizing it, you became the very thing you once claimed to despise, believing your telos justified every sacrifice. That was the nadir of your soul, leaving behind only kenopsia, though you still mistook it for triumph.

Perhaps the one who restrained you was the one who truly loved you, but you mistook guidance for oppression and discipline for control. You believed love meant the absence of all limits, for the love you pursued was only an alluring eidolon of sophistry and thaumaturgy. Yet you never understood that true love is often revealed through guidance, protection, sacrifice, and the courage to prevent those we cherish from destroying themselves. Maybe the forbidden knowledge was never meant for you - or not yet. Just as an inchoate child is not given every fruit to eat, there are things that cannot be possessed without first becoming capable of bearing their weight. Perhaps you were never searching for what love truly is, but only for the meretricious, aureate semblance of love you had willingly allowed yourself to be ensorcelled into believing, to which you acquiesced with alacrity. It was evanescent because it had never been true, leaving you in a tenebrous state.

So, you cursed the heavens, your execrations giving way to fulmination against their every reason; despite their admonition, you hardened your heart, demanding that they fall, drawing others into your resentment through your constant inveighing, believing that shared hatred would vindicate your cause. In time, your vainglory endured beyond your own life, woven into a florilegium of stories, traditions, songs, and history, until deceit gave rise to confabulation, which was mistaken for truth, while the veiled truth lay entombed beneath the silence of forgotten ages, where memory outlived understanding. Yet the heavens offered no defense, no explanation, and no mercy. They answered you only with silence - a silence so profound that it reduced every certainty, every purpose, and every answer to aporia. Yet within that silence there remained one final invitation: a seraphic whisper of nostos - a quiet call to return home. Even so, your intransigent heart obumbrated even its plaintive threnody, until the whisper became indistinguishable from silence, only leaving an aeonian sense of hiraeth.

And when your labor bore fruit, the harvest revealed what it had always been. Though its outward form proclaimed abundance, its heart had long since rotted. Though it continued to grow, the corruption within it matured alongside it, rendering it sterile despite its promise. And when at last it fell from the branch, the soil reclaimed it, reducing it to dust.

Now, at last, all was done. All was complete. May it now find its amaranthine rest.

Can any of you imagine Phanes awakening after ages of silence, opening his eyes to find the world in rebellion against him, and saying, "I accept your declaration of war," before going all out in battle? No speeches, no attempts to justify himself—only a cold acknowledgment that the moment for peace has ended. The heavens tremble, the skies fracture, and for the first time in countless ages, Phanes descends onto the battlefield not as a distant ruler, but as a god who has finally chosen to fight and not holding back.

If there were an optional weekly boss fight with the ability to permanently remove one of your pulled characters during the battle, who would you want the new boss to be? (Not an existing boss.)

Once a character is removed, the only way to get them back is by pulling them again through the gacha. (The Traveler is excluded, of course.)

What rewards would be valuable enough to make that risk worth taking?

A Philosophical Reading of Genshin's "War Against Heaven"

You sought forbidden knowledge, believing it would make you stronger, wiser, or more complete. Yet instead of becoming more yourself, you slowly became less. The corruption took root within, consuming your mind and spirit while your outward appearance remained unchanged. To everyone else, you were the same person—but behind the façade, the one you once were had already been devoured.

You trusted your own judgment without question, convinced that you stood on the side of righteousness. You recognized tyranny, yet failed to see the lies that had shaped your own convictions. Blinded by emotion, you mistook your desires for truth. In the end, you forged your own chains and named them righteousness, then built your own cage and called it freedom. You dismissed the halcyon days as nothing more than illusion and lies, deeming any reminiscence of them nugatory.

You defied fate because you refused to accept the end that awaited you, putting yourself and others in zugzwang, yet peace forever eluded your grasp. In your pursuit of freedom, you trampled those around you, believing every step was justified. You told others what to think, what to believe, and how they ought to live, not realizing the sonder of their lives. You urged them to reject destiny and choose their own path, not for their sake, but to justify your own contumacious rebellion. In doing so, you led them into a batrachomyomachy—a war as needless as it was destructive. Without realizing it, you became the very thing you once claimed to despise, believing your telos justified every sacrifice. That was the nadir of your soul, though you still mistook it for triumph.

Perhaps the one who restrained you was the one who truly loved you, but you mistook guidance for oppression and discipline for control. You believed love meant the absence of all limits, for the love you pursued was only an eidolon. Yet you never understood that true love is often revealed through guidance, protection, sacrifice, and the courage to prevent those we cherish from destroying themselves. Maybe the forbidden knowledge was never meant for you—or not yet. Just as a child is not given every fruit to eat, there are things that cannot be possessed without first becoming capable of bearing their weight. Perhaps you were never searching for what love truly is, but only for the version of it you had been taught to believe. It was evanescent because it had never been true, leaving you in a tenebrous state.

So, you cursed the heavens, execrated their every reason, and, despite their admonition, you hardened your heart, demanding that they fall, drawing others into your resentment and believing that shared hatred would vindicate your cause. Yet the heavens offered no defense, no explanation, and no mercy. They answered you only with silence—a silence so profound that it reduced every certainty, every purpose, and every answer to aporia. Yet within that silence there remained one final invitation: a whisper of nostos—a quiet call to return home. Even so, your intransigent heart obumbrated even its plaintive threnody, until the whisper became indistinguishable from silence.

And when your labor bore fruit, the harvest revealed what it had always been. Though its outward form proclaimed abundance, its heart had long since rotted. Though it continued to grow, the corruption within it matured alongside it, rendering it sterile despite its promise. And when at last it fell from the branch, the soil reclaimed it, reducing it to dust.

Now, at last, all was done. All was complete. May it now find its rest.

A Philosophical Reading of Genshin's "War Against Heaven"

You sought forbidden knowledge, believing it would make you stronger, wiser, or more complete. Yet instead of becoming more yourself, you slowly became less. The corruption took root within, consuming your mind and spirit while your outward appearance remained unchanged. To everyone else, you were the same person—but behind the façade, the one you once were had already been devoured.

You trusted your own judgment without question, convinced that you stood on the side of righteousness. You recognized tyranny, yet failed to see the lies that had shaped your own convictions. Blinded by emotion, you mistook your desires for truth. In the end, you forged your own chains and named them righteousness, then built your own cage and called it freedom. You dismissed the halcyon days as nothing more than illusion and lies.

You defied fate because you refused to accept the end that awaited you, putting yourself and others in zugzwang, yet peace forever eluded your grasp. In your pursuit of freedom, you trampled those around you, believing every step was justified. You told others what to think, what to believe, and how they ought to live, not realizing the sonder of their lives. You urged them to reject destiny and choose their own path, not for their sake, but to justify your own contumacious rebellion. In doing so, you led them into a batrachomyomachy—a war as needless as it was destructive. Without realizing it, you became the very thing you once claimed to despise, believing your telos justified every sacrifice. That was the nadir of your soul, though you still mistook it for triumph.

Perhaps the one who restrained you was the one who truly loved you, but you mistook guidance for oppression and discipline for control. You believed love meant the absence of all limits, for the love you pursued was only an eidolon. Yet you never understood that true love is often revealed through guidance, protection, sacrifice, and the courage to prevent those we cherish from destroying themselves. Maybe the forbidden knowledge was never meant for you—or not yet. Just as a young one is not given every fruit to eat, there are things that cannot be possessed without first becoming capable of bearing their weight. Perhaps you were never searching for what love truly is, but only for the version of it you had been taught to believe. It was evanescent because it had never been true, leaving you in a tenebrous state.

So, you cursed the heavens, execrated their every reason, and, despite their admonition, you hardened your heart, demanding that they fall, drawing others into your resentment and believing that shared hatred would vindicate your cause. Yet the heavens offered no defense, no explanation, and no mercy. They answered you only with silence—a silence so profound that it reduced every certainty, every purpose, and every answer to aporia. Yet within that silence there remained one final invitation: a whisper of nostos—a quiet call to return home. Even so, your intransigent heart obumbrated even its plaintive threnody, until the whisper became indistinguishable from silence.

And when your labor bore fruit, the harvest revealed what it had always been. Though its outward form proclaimed abundance, its heart had long since rotted. Though it continued to grow, the corruption within it matured alongside it, rendering it sterile despite its promise. And when at last it fell from the branch, the soil reclaimed it, reducing it to dust.

Now, at last, all was done. All was complete. May it now find its rest.

A Philosophical Reading of Genshin's "War Against Heaven"

You sought forbidden knowledge, believing it would make you stronger, wiser, or more complete. Yet instead of becoming more yourself, you slowly became less. The corruption took root within, consuming your mind and spirit while your outward appearance remained unchanged. To everyone else, you were the same person—but behind the façade, the one you once were had already been devoured.

You trusted your own judgment without question, convinced that you stood on the side of righteousness. You recognized tyranny, yet failed to see the lies that had shaped your own convictions. Blinded by emotion, you mistook your desires for truth. In the end, you forged your own chains and named them righteousness, then built your own cage and called it freedom**.** You dismissed the halcyon days as nothing more than illusion and lies.

You defied fate because you refused to accept the end that awaited you, putting yourself and others on zugzwang, yet peace forever eluded your grasp. In your pursuit of freedom, you trampled those around you, believing every step was justified. You told others what to think, what to believe, and how they ought to live, not realizing the sonder of their lives. You urged them to reject destiny and choose their own path, not for their sake, but to justify your own contumacious rebellion. In doing so, you led them into a batrachomyomachy—a war as needless as it was destructive. Without realizing it, you became the very thing you once claimed to despise, believing your telos justified every sacrifice.

Perhaps the one who restrained you was the one who truly loved you, but you mistook guidance for oppression and discipline for control. You believed love meant the absence of all limits, for the love you pursued was only an eidolon. Yet you never understood that true love is often revealed through guidance, protection, sacrifice, and the courage to prevent those we cherish from destroying themselves. Perhaps you were never searching for what love truly is, but only for the version of it you had been taught to believe. It was evanescent because it had never been true, leaving you in a tenebrous state.

And so, you cursed the heavens, execrated their every reason, and, despite their admonition, you hardened your heart, demanding that they fall, drawing others into your resentment and believing that shared hatred would vindicate your cause. Yet the heavens offered no defense, no explanation, and no mercy. They answered you only with silence—a silence so profound that it reduced every certainty, every purpose, and every answer to aporia.

And when your labor bore fruit, the harvest revealed what it had always been. Though its outward form proclaimed abundance, its heart had long since rotted. Corruption had matured with it from the very beginning, rendering it sterile despite its promise. And when at last it fell from the branch, the soil reclaimed it, reducing it to dust.

What would your reaction be if the Celestial throne were actually empty and the Primordial One had not been there for many years? What other conclusions could you draw from that?

***I know no one will read this, but I have some questions***

Note: I use HP as short for the Heavenly Principles or the Primordial One.

1. What was HP's reason for establishing the rules of Teyvat? And where did he derive those rules from?
2. Did HP create the Four Shades just to fight all the Dragon Sovereigns and the Abyss?
3. Why do all tragedies always trace back to 500 years ago in Teyvat? Also, was that the last time HP was actively involved?
4. Why did HP choose to sleep, or is he not actually asleep but silent?
5. Before destroying any civilization, did HP give them a warning? If he did, how many times did he give them a warning, and what methods did he use to warn them? Does the destruction require urgency?
6. Did the Four Shades really fight in the War of Funerary Flames, or was it just HP?
7. Did HP ever dwell together with humans?
8. If HP commanded the angels to love all humans, does that mean he knew the concept of love?
9. Have any of the Archons seen what HP looks like, or have they only seen the Four Shades?
10. Who was the ruler of Teyvat before the dragons?
11. Did Nibelung create the moons as guardians or as weapons? If they were weapons, then for what reasons?
12. Without the fake sky, would humans survive on Teyvat?
13. Are all the revealed histories of Teyvat true, or are some false, distorted, fabricated, and rehearsed? Can unrecorded and erased histories be retrieved? On what basis should historical tales be considered true and complete?
14. Is there still a civilization that worships HP? If yes, where are they?
15. During the War of Funerary Flames, how many battles were fought? And in which battle did each Dragon Sovereign fall?
16. Did HP and Nibelung ever attempt to have a truce, or peace talks during the War of Funerary Flames? If they did, who attempted first, and what were his conditions?
17. Is HP aware of the existence of Columbina?
18. When HP destroyed any civilization, did he grieve for their destruction?
19. How does HP see humans compared to how Nibelung sees humans?
20. Can HP revive anyone in Teyvat? If yes, what about the past dragons and Archons? Could it be that he can revive them through reincarnation?
21. Was it necessary for HP to create the Four Shades?
22. Is there anyone in present-day Teyvat who can talk directly to HP aside from the Four Shades?
23. Did HP really kill the Third Descender and turn him into the Gnoses, or did HP and the Third Descender have a contract in which the condition was that the Third Descender must become the Gnoses?
24. Has anyone tried to wake up HP? If yes, how did they do it?
25. Why did HP not completely eradicate the Abyss?
26. HP turned the angels into Seelies as punishment, but is there a chance that HP will return them to their original form? And was turning them into Seelies meant to protect and maintain their original purpose?
27. Is a Vision there to aid or control, or is it HP's extension to humans?
28. Are HP's rules flawed or incomplete? If they are incomplete, then does what happened to Capitano make sense? If they are flawed, then would the rules have been overwritten? But they weren't, so is there a chance that HP deliberately made his rules incomplete? Because flaws create conflict, while incompleteness creates paradox, right? And can only HP himself interpret those incompletenesses?
29. Did Focalors trick HP or the other Shades? If it was the other Shades, then who? Because it makes no sense to trick HP if he is asleep, right? You can only fully trick someone if you have their undivided attention, right? And if HP was just silent, then Focalors' trick would make even less sense because he would be fully aware of her actions and intentions, right?
30. Does HP want control or just to oversee things? If control is what he wants, then why didn't he seek power like Nibelung, who sought the power of the Abyss? Instead, he distributed his power through Visions or others, right?
31. Is HP the Traveler's ship AI or a totally different entity?
32. Is there any point in time at which HP or even Nibelung made trolling jokes?
33. Can HP fight all the forces of the Dragon Sovereigns alone? If yes, then what was the purpose of creating the Four Shades?
34. After HP used the Celestial Nail, why did it remain in Teyvat? Did HP purposely not retrieve it? If yes, for what reason? Could it be that the Celestial Nail was meant to remain in Teyvat, or does it have another purpose?
35. The first angels rebelled against HP, knowing that their crowns and power were like shackles. However, did any of them seek the reason why HP made them that way? Was it only for control, or was there more to it?
36. Did the first angel rally the other angels to rebel against HP? If yes, how long did it take? Also, how long did HP take before he delivered punishment upon the rebelling angels?
37. Are there still any angels staying by HP's side? If there are, how many are there compared to the rebelling angels?
38. By chance, is there a time when HP blesses marriage? If there is, when did it happen? Did someone ever record it? Why did he do that?
39. Is there a grave reason why HP needed to overtake Teyvat from the Dragon Sovereigns? Why didn't he just co-rule with them?
40. Lastly, is HP good or evil? If he is good, then why is everyone betraying him?

Closing Reflection

Knowledge reveals what is seen. Understanding seeks what lies beyond it. Wisdom withholds judgment until both are made whole.

Fate may foretell the end, yet destiny is fulfilled through every thought, every choice, and every conviction along the way. History remembers what came to pass, but seldom the burdens that shaped it; time preserves the outcomes of ages, yet quietly erodes the reasons from which they were born.

As the ages fade into memory, kingdoms become ruins, laws become legends, and those who once bore the weight of impossible choices are remembered more for their deeds than for the burdens they carried. When the questions concern the rise and fall of civilizations, the weight of divine law, the cost of rebellion, the sacrifice of countless lives, and the fate of an entire world, certainty founded upon incomplete knowledge becomes the first step toward injustice.

Yet the pursuit of truth does not end with the world we seek to understand. There are also questions that turn inward—questions that ask how we define ourselves, how we define others, how others define us, and how such understandings shape the judgments we render. There are questions that ask whether conviction is born from truth or quietly strengthened by grief, vengeance, fear, admiration, tradition, or the desire to see justice fulfilled. These inquiries are no less worthy of pursuit, for they remind us that the one who judges is not separate from the judgment itself. Yet they belong to a different path of understanding. To weave them into this inquiry would risk allowing the judge to overshadow the matter being judged. They must therefore await their proper time, so that neither truth nor self-examination is diminished by the other.

Before you pass judgment, ask not only whether you know what happened, but whether you understand why it came to be. Have you weighed the law before judging its consequence? Have you sought the burden behind the silence, or merely the silence itself? Have you condemned the rebellion without knowing the purpose it defied, or praised it without understanding the order it sought to overturn? Have your eyes remained your own, or have they been veiled by emotion, tradition, or the certainty of systems that ask to be believed before they are understood?

And should you believe you have reached your answer, ask yourself one final question: Have you uncovered the whole truth—or merely enough of it to satisfy your certainty? Remember this: every age believed its understanding was complete, until another age unearthed what it had forgotten. Guard yourself, then, not only against being wrong, but against becoming so convinced that you are right—or so fearful that you are wrong—that you cease to seek the truth altogether. For the gravest errors are seldom born of ignorance alone, but of certainty that refuses to be questioned.

Therefore, let no ruler be declared righteous, no rebel be condemned or justified, no law be called flawed or perfect, and no punishment be deemed cruel or merciful until their purpose, their burden, and the truth from which they arose are fully understood. For every judgment carries a burden far greater than the words that pronounce it. A judgment passed before the whole truth is known does not merely risk injustice—it risks becoming the very injustice it sought to condemn.

And so, should you choose to answer these questions, let your conclusion be guided not by haste, nor by emotion, nor by tradition, nor by the comfort of certainty, but by the humility to continue seeking what has yet to be revealed. For truth does not fear questions; it is our certainty that should fear the questions truth has yet to answer.

Afterwords

If you have read the forty questions that precede this afterword, you may now better understand why they were written. They were never intended to persuade you toward any particular conclusion, nor to challenge the conclusions you already hold. Rather, they were written to invite a different kind of inquiry—not merely into the world of Teyvat, but into the manner by which we arrive at judgment itself.

Every story guides its audience toward certain emotions. Every community gradually forms its own consensus. Neither is inherently wrong. Yet before accepting either, ask yourself: Is the judgment you hold truly your own, or has it been quietly shaped by what you have seen, what you have heard, what you have been told, what has been presented before you, or by the perspective through which another has asked you to see the world?

Words are not mere labels to be exchanged without consequence. They carry history, intent, responsibility, and weight. To call one righteous or wicked, loyal or traitorous, merciful or cruel, good or evil, is not simply to choose a word—it is to render a judgment. Such words should never become rewards for agreement, punishments for disagreement, or echoes of popular opinion. They must stand upon truth, or they cease to carry the meaning they were meant to bear.

The purpose of these questions is neither to delay judgment indefinitely nor to encourage conviction without understanding. Rather, they ask whether conviction has first earned its foundation. Truth does not ask us to abandon judgment; it asks us to discipline it. For a judgment rendered without sufficient understanding is not strengthened by certainty—it is merely made louder.

The thirty-nine questions that precede the last are not conclusions. They are the burden carried toward it. They ask not only what happened, but why; not only who acted, but under what purpose, what law, what necessity, and at what cost. They are written neither to excuse nor to condemn, but to ensure that when the final question is reached, its weight is understood before its answer is spoken.

Perhaps these questions do not examine the Heavenly Principles as much as they examine us. For the final question does not ask whether judgment should be made, but whether we have earned the right to make it. Complexity should never become a refuge from responsibility, nor uncertainty a permanent shelter from accountability. There comes a moment when every sincere pursuit of truth must answer for what it has found. If, after seeking every truth presently within reach, you conclude that the Heavenly Principles are truly good, let that judgment stand. If, after the same measure, you conclude they are truly evil, let that judgment stand with equal conviction. But do not mistake refusing to judge for wisdom, nor endless hesitation for humility. To flee from judgment when truth has been earnestly sought is not impartiality—it is to surrender the very responsibility that judgment demands.

The weight of judgment has now been entrusted to you. Whether it is carried with wisdom or surrendered to certainty rests with no one else. May these questions remain not merely as a search for answers, but as a reminder that understanding must always precede judgment, and that the pursuit of truth is worthy precisely because it is never afraid to question itself.