Miracles

Nineteen years have passed since Karkaul was blessed, and her son has grown into an able, popular priest of the faith. But now his father rumbles and the boy, who’s always seemed so human, must dive into the depths of his father’s molten core and seal that rift guarded only by faith in his heritage.

https://peakd.com/fiction/@internutter/challenge-04710-l326-pray-responsibly -- Deathshead419

Karkaul's son was named Nalani, and was almost typical of a demigod. His skin was as dark as basalt, his muscles firm as granite. His hair was like the clouds that his father threw into the sky. His eyes blazed in the night with the volcano god's fire. Just like his father, Nalani could have a temper. Quick, explosive, and often laying waste to a lot of things around him. But also, like his father, creating something new and useful in the process.

Of course Karkaul taught him how to sing to his father, how to make the proper offerings and say the proper prayers. And once Nalani reached a certain age, he brought in a lot of young women that Karkaul could preach to. Not that they were paying a lot of attention to the sermons.

Nineteen years to the day after Karkaul prayed for a miracle, Nalani woke in the middle of the night.

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"Greatfather Langeven is a childhood god. He only sees that which is good in the world, and so comes for the children who believe they have been good. Which is terribly unfair to those who've been told they're wicked their entire, brief lives. But that's a different story for a different time."

The youth had always been kind, had always done their best to help others, even though they, themselves, were constantly being told they were evil, wicked, and, sadly, thoroughly believing