Explosion

	“Normal.”  Axio scoffed and glared at the dirt.  “Normal.  Nothing about me has ever been normal.  Do you know how badly I want to just take a while off and recuperate?  But no, tomorrow we resume the search for a buried Giant laboratory so we can permanently seal off the weapons of a cult of hatred-worshipping kidnappers.”

	“If your behavior of late has been odd because your dreams have led you to be so, then you do need to rest and meditate,” Ryaire pressed on.

	Axio’s eyes snapped back up to glare at his great-grandmother again.  “How can I?  If two thirds, even three quarters of my visions now disappear without a High Succubus shoving them into my head, I will still awaken with shivering nightmares twice per week!  Nightmares of bad futures that only I can prevent from arriving!  How can I rest?  Especially now that I know that not only can fiends brainwash me in my sleep, even successfully so, but that you can’t stop them!”  His voice cracked as the enormity of his burden overwhelmed him.  “There will be no rest for me until I die!  And even then, what rest will I find?”  He was practically shouting now, as years of quiet resentment and fear broke through his weakened mind.  “You call me your future Exarch!  You say I’m already ‘inevitably transcendent!’  I have no choice!”  His voice dropped to a ragged, horrified whisper.  “And these VISIONS!  These damnable visions!  There’s no DATES ON THEM!  I have no way of knowing when they will happen, what to do to avert them, how to survive them!”  He slapped his hand over his eyes.  “And my death!  I KNOW MY OWN DEATH!” he shouted, genuinely startling Ryaire.  “I will be stabbed to death by many blades, and die alone!  And will my responsibility end there?  NO!  Of course not!” he roared.  “Because my visions won’t END!  They will continue, maybe forever!  And trapped as I will be in the afterlife, beyond any chance of averting them, here I will sit, surrounded forevermore by the souls of the children I COULDN’T SAVE!” he screamed, wild-eyed.

	Even in the mirror image dream Axio was having of the Arbor, petitioners and angels from across the nearby woods and clearings were staring now.  A Planetar slowly turned away to shepherd some confused children away from the screaming man with the wings.

	Ryaire had been a goddess only for a century, but in that time, had stared into the deepest depths of pure evil, pure law and chaos, and even pure good.  She had thought herself beyond surprise.  In that moment, she found that thought inaccurate.

	Axio’s wings were suddenly so heavy.  He sank to his knees, then to his bottom as he couldn’t stand any more.   He wasn’t crying, he was just gasping hysterically.  “How could you do this to me?” he managed.  “How?  How?  How?  How could you hurt me like this and then be so damn unhelpful when I crawl to you?”  He tucked his head into his arms and shook, horribly.  His teeth chattered as he trembled.  The silver demigoddess hesitated.  Many years after she should have, Ryaire finally noticed how many reasons Axio had to hate her.

	Axio’s hyperventilating spirit lowered his head to rest on his arms, finally out of rage.  Ryaire balanced her options quickly.  Her great-grandson didn’t hate her, despite his rage.  He was simply bitter, afraid, and insulted.  Still, Ryaire couldn’t bring herself to be wholly sympathetic; every decision she had made for him had come to a positive result for the faith and the children she protected.

	“Axio, I did not do any of this with the intent to harm you,” she said.

	The Aasimar looked bleakly up at her.  “No, just total disregard for the possibility.”

	Ryaire had to force her own anger down again.  “I am always concerned for your well-being, Axio!  I have never stopped caring for you!  But the problems you face are larger than you, and they demand sacrifice from all those who walk the narrow path.  If this burden is getting to you, I understand, but…”

	Axio’s eyes narrowed again, and his breathing slowed.  “But what?” he demanded.  “What comes after ‘I understand,’ Lady Ryaire?”

	“But do not let it turn you aside,” Ryaire finished.

	“I haven’t.”  Axio slowly climbed to his feet.  “I won’t.  But this, this lack of trust I can have for you, this lack of desire to help me shoulder my responsibilities that you have for me, this is what breaks men,” he said.  He drew in the deepest breath he could and blew it out quickly, forcing his hyperventilation away and leaving him light-headed.  A bit of anger was bubbling back up into the sucking vacuum in his heart.  Was she just unable to care?  How could she be such a perfect surrogate mother for the souls in the Arbor and not one for him?

	“I have never asked you to sacrifice more than you needed to for me, Axio,” Ryaire said sternly.  “Not once.”

	Axio shuddered.  “I’ve been indoctrinated for killing since I was twelve.”

	“By your parents’ choice, not my order.”

	Axio scowled.  “And people wonder why consent is so important to me.  I’ve never been able to give it.  And now a Succubus attacks me.”

	Ryaire drew herself up to her full, unimpressive height and looked imperiously at her great-grandson.  “Is my service not something to which you would have pledged yourself, had you not been born to it?”

	“I do hope so, but I suppose we’ll never know,” Axio said bitterly.  “Can you think of anything I can do to fix this problem with the High Succubus?”

	Ryaire sensed his heart closing to her, and tried once more.  “Axio, you know I love you, but this horrible affair is something you could have prevented by simply using your Divine Sense at any time in the last week,” she pointed out.  “Or contacting me for advice, or asking Luanea, or even consulting a loremaster of planar knowledge.  I understand that your parents and I have come to respect your free will less than you would like, but not one time have we ever asked you to do anything unnecessary for the betterment of the Arbor, nor of the Church of my name.”

	Her Chosen let out a despairing sigh.  “You never ask me at all.  You never have,” he mumbled.  “You probably never will.  I’m not saying I’d say no, blast it!” he said, preempting her observation.  “I just want to be consulted!  When you began the process of my metamorphosis, you didn’t even tell me until my eyeballs mutated in my head!”

	Ryaire scowled, but that was a point she could not refute.  Axio shook his head.  “I thought I could count on you, your Ladyship, but for the first time, I can’t.  Just wake me, please.”

	His demigoddess’ eyes flashed, and the trees overhead shook slightly as the plane reacted to her anger.  “Do not dismiss me, Axiopistos.”

	He glared right back.  “When Cavria was stabbed by the exploding Psychic Node in Darius Vorthane’s office, do you remember what happened?  She prayed to you, and you did nothing.  I knew why you did nothing: because you couldn’t.  We were in an evil place, and Asmodeus was interfering with her directly.  I had to do it myself, and stab her to wakefulness.  Remember, your Ladyship?”

	“Of course I remember.”

	“So now I ask.  My slashed, mauled, traumatized, sleep-deprived body is lying on a bed in Mirabar, right now.  No hostile devils around, no sanctified church of evil to block you.  I, your Chosen, your ambassador to the world, came here to your home plane, to beg for help.  Help in healing me, in purging my soul of a devil’s evil, in finding the damned books we need to find our way to this Giant lab so I can go home and REST.  Will you grant it to me?” he demanded outright.

	Ryaire very much wanted to put his posture into a more correct stance, remind him that she literally couldn’t solve his problems for him, or say something more cutting.  However, in the back of her mind, behind the hundreds of tiny, glimmering lines of light that webbed her to her worshipers, behind the wall of strength with which she created and maintained her own private plane, and behind her mortal-born and divinely-entrenched stubbornness, she heard her own voice asking if that were really so unreasonable.

	She took a long moment to stare out towards the distant hive of playgrounds that comprised the fortress of lost children in her Arbor.  “Very… well,” she finally said.  “Luanea is healing your body.  The book you seek is in the library where your party spent their day.  And no, I will not heal your soul.  I CAN NOT,” she thundered suddenly as he opened his mouth to say whatever.  “Some powers are forbidden me.  Your spiritual healing shall be of your own hand, for it was your own will, regardless of your lack of knowledge of these visions’ source, that led you to your newfound temper, and your desire to lash out at an uncaring world.  I can and will not help with that.”  She turned her eyes back to his hurt expression.  “Ask Cavria.”


	Verashon finished wiping the blood off the sleeping Aasimar’s legs as Luanea worked on his chest.  They had spread Axio out on his bed, with a blanket to preserve his modesty.  The two drow had healed them as best they could as he slept, and Verashon didn’t need to be a cleric to see his friend was deep in a meditative rest.

	“He’s with Ryaire, for now,” Cavria said sadly.  “He’ll be back.”

	“So that… I’m sorry, Cavria, but I don’t understand,” Verashon said.  “That thing was one of your… what was the word?”

	“Clade,” Cavria explained.  “The High Succubus Prototype clade.  There were thirty-nine, and a Queen to rule us.”

	“How long has she been following us?” Verashon asked disgustedly.  “She was trying to kill Axio, but… he’s been acting oddly for over a week now.”

	“How could I know?” Cavria asked.  “You saw what happened when she saw me.  She’s been avoiding me, however long she’s been here, I promise you that.”

	“Can you transform like her?” Kyria asked.  She ran a sad hand over Axio’s healed chest.  “Poor guy,” she whispered under her breath.