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Golden hour must be eternal here. The sunlight cascading from the temple’s windows bathes Khun’s body in its powerful warmth, like thick honey on cold marble. Intense. Sedating. Much like the eyes of the god he’s come to see.
It is a strange experience, waiting. As god of the universe it is always the other way around, everyone as subject to his beck and call as they are to his whim at the moment of creation. He is the one who decides what time means and what is worth waiting for.
Viole... is definitely worth the wait.
A thousand years, in fact – or maybe it’s been several; time moves differently for the gods and Khun can’t care to count – at least a thousand years since he’s seen Viole last. It was a brief passing-by in the halls of Heaven, the home of the gods, but the vision of Viole had seared itself into Khun’s mind: the streams of satin spilling onto the staircase, the halo round his head from the ever-setting celestial sunlight, the pools of liquid gold that met his gaze in a silent promise that they’d meet again.
This was not the first time they’d met, as they’d known each other many times in the millennia of being; but those were past lives, and the memories were locked behind the vault of every Armageddon past. Upon every rebirth, the inherited roles are the same, but the souls behind the divinities are ever changing.
After their awakening in the new era, Khun set to creating the galaxies as Viole began his reign as lord of Heaven. Holy messengers and other lesser gods sufficed for dissemination of divine business, and there was never need for direct contact between the two.
Until... the festival. Khun had completed his creations, the lesser gods had settled into their domains, and Viole wanted to commemorate their newly established reign. All were invited to celebrate in the courts of Heaven, a chance for many gods whose rank would otherwise banish them from ever standing before the lord of the gods.
Khun had not been keen on fraternizing with the only god who held power over him; why tempt fate by opening himself to close-range attack? But this was also his opportunity to scope out the other gods, to observe details and chinks in their armor that his holy guards and messengers might miss. And, as always, Khun’s curiosity found a way to slip past his mind’s pragmatics.
While most gods bent over backwards to make their entrance to the inner halls of Heaven as grand as possible, Khun had studied the layout of the venue to ensure he could navigate the palatial grounds without being seen. He would appear at strategic moments to prove that yes, he came, and no, he wouldn’t dare decline an invitation from their lord Jyu Viole Grace; but at all other times, he would maintain his privacy. There was power in being an unseen god, something that Khun wanted to hold over the lord of Heaven who was making the mistake of befriending his subjects. He did not understand Viole, nor his intentions behind the festival.
Everything had gone according to plan: Khun dazzled the lesser gods with his silvery grandeur and sleeves of galaxies, made a well-crafted homage to the host of Heaven, and disappeared right before Viole entered the room. Just before sun would set – a rare thing in Heaven, he’d heard, as Viole seems to be too fond of the sun – he’d slipped away through the back corridors to the main entrance. There was no other way to return to the universe except by the enormous golden staircase, but as Khun had calculated, everyone else would still be inside the halls because he’d left during one of the main events.
They should have been inside.
He’d almost missed it in his rush to leave, that gilded figure leaning against the elaborate railing.
They noticed each other at the same time – the two greatest gods, aghast at the violation of what they both thought was their own private moment.
Khun’s instincts were quicker, his knees sinking to the stair he’d been standing on before Viole could react. “My lord.” The quickening beat of his ageless heart reminded Khun that immortality was no insurance against the violence of a power-hungry god. The silence that stretched grew into a noose around his neck, and Khun was on the verge of risking a look at the god before him, if only to see the face of Heaven before he was sent to hell.
Viole relieved him of the looming insolence. “Stand, stand.”
Khun rose.
The subtle sweep of silk was the only sound that followed, but the gentle warmth of Viole’s voice still rang in Khun’s ears. He was panicking, because a violent god would have been easier to understand than the unmistakable humility that this lord embodied.
“Must you go?”
There was an implication behind those words that sent Khun into a cold sweat. An implication – an invitation – and something... forlorn. He dared not look up, because for once Khun’s fear was greater than his desire to know.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Now?”
“Now”...? “It is urgent business, my lord.”
Viole did not even try to hide his disappointment. “Can you at least tell me your name?”
Khun had every reason to say no, but that didn’t matter. He was standing before the lord of Heaven. “It’s K –”
“Please... look at me when you speak.”
That tone. Pleading. It was improper for a god of any upper rank, let alone Viole himself.
There was a shift in Khun’s gut. He’s weak.
He looked up, and the power of the gaze that met his nearly brought him to his knees again. The full strength of the sun at midday, the glory of its rays before twilight, the truth of its light at dawn.
And in his awe, he had nearly forgotten his name.
“Kh...un.”
“Well,” Viole bowed his head, an impropriety that made Khun’s head spin. “Don’t let me keep you...”
His body moved like a spring, robes flying like wings as he descended the final steps of the staircase.
“...Khun.”
Khun spun around in the same moment he crossed the barrier to that final vision of Viole illuminated by the setting sun; their eyes met, and Khun took that unspoken promise with him as he returned to the world he’d made.
And thousands of years later, their eyes shall meet once more. That was the promise.
Viole is halfway down the stairs leading to his throne by the time Khun’s reverie is dispelled, and now the full reality of this deity falls upon the creation god like the meteors he’s sent to so many planets.
Unlike last time, however, Khun’s pride is not cratered and crushed. He’s grown as a god. The muscles between his shoulders tug together as he kneels, straightening his posture in a subtle act of smugness; he’s the one who came back first, after all.
“My lord.”
“Khun.” The lord of the gods’ voice is closer than Khun anticipates, and his body stiffens slightly to prevent himself from looking up without permission. “You can look at me.”
He obeys, searching the eyes that study his.
“I’ve spent a lot of time studying the Earth.”
“Is that so, my lord?”
Viole holds out his hand, inviting Khun to rise. “It reminds me of your eyes, that blue planet. I’ve been curious.”
“Well, then, my lord.” Khun smiles and stands on his own. “Allow me to show you what you seek.”
“Please... call me Bam.”
A moment passes, two gods gazing into each other’s eyes as they did millennia before. The only difference is that Khun is upright, on even standing with the god in whose image he made his favorite creation.
“Bam.”
“Khun.”
“Allow me to show you the most beautiful, and perplexing, beings I’ve made.”
Khun places one foot into the barrier, waiting for Bam to follow.
The golden god follows his lead. “And what do you call them?”
“I call them –”
The barrier closes, and the universe opens before them.
“Humans.”