Think differently. Deviant minds. Was this him-? Yes, he decided; it made sense. Not all thought this way, and he didn't take offense at the phrase. Deviant meant different. His was different, indeed.

Opal's last question, though, gave him pause; and he thought about it for a moment before replying.

"Yes," he said, and considered. "I would destroy it, but this rebirth has taken my magic from me. And as dramatic as it might be... I think angrily kicking the Spire in an attempt to destroy it--that would be futile, and tragic," Khloros added, with a rare glimpse of coherence and humor both. "But let me tell you what Astraea said," he added, going distant for a moment.

His imitation of the stag might not be good--he did not know, but he did his best. Mind reached back and pulled forth memory, and Khloros repeated Astraea's words as best he could remember them.

It was difficult to forget them.

Astraea's venom flowed through the words, even merely with Khloros' recollection. Some of it was paraphrased but the majority, he thought, was correct. He couldn't mimic the stag's voice, not well, but the tone, at least, was accurate.

"I am a master, of twelve, who watch over your growth and perfect you. There was a time we created, for our Creator, but you—all of you, born from this Spire's magic—you have not been created. You were born from failed creations that died, or were purged. Your purpose is to serve. To grow, and to grow strong. Do you think you could afford freedom? I will let you try," and this last was nearly a snarl.

Khloros then looked to Opal, gaze empty.

"I suppose this is my freedom-? There is no magic, but I am alive. I cannot help the rest alone, though."

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