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Seonghwa was a very old god, but being old did not mean he had much power.
Gods required followers, worship, and the love and devotion of mortals to be powerful. While many mortals loved the stars, few were devoted to them.
Seonghwa understood that most mortals only had so much love and worship to give, and they gave it to the gods of things that were most important to them, such as fertility and harvest and the weather. He didn’t begrudge them that. He had been around longer than all of those Earthly gods, and he would be around long after. His was an old, steady power, one that did not interfere often, but stayed constant and reliable for those few that needed him.
He did have a soft spot for sailors. No one depended on the stars more, no one thanked him or prayed to him more, and no one was more devoted to him than those that lived their life on the sea and used his starlight to find their way home. He did his best to shine bright when they asked it of him.
One night, as he was quietly shining, he heard the pleas of a young voice. Most of the sailors that spoke to him were older, having learned their respect through experience, but this prayer was coming from a boy no older than fifteen. Seonghwa looked down at him and saw a young sailor lashed to a board, adrift at sea, and felt his desperate plea to the stars for help.
Seonghwa didn’t have a lot of power, but he didn’t want to abandon a boy who asked for his help so earnestly, so he did what he could to gently push him towards a nearby island. He was sorry he couldn’t do more for the poor boy, who would probably starve on the island anyway, and a small streak of light came down in the sky as he shed a tear.
…
When the privateers had started shooting their ship, Hongjoong had known almost immediately that it was a lost cause. He’d been on ships basically since he was old enough to walk, and his whole job was making sure that everything stayed in working order. He’d seen the first shot hit them dangerously low on their hull and punch right through, and he’d known right then that they were going down.
He was too low on the pecking order to be afforded room on a lifeboat, so he hadn’t even bothered to try sneaking his way on. A teenage swabbie wasn’t worth the space. So instead, he’d cut a length of rope from the rigging, grabbed a spare plank of wood that was big enough for him to lay on, and lashed himself and his pack to it.
It had been an insane gamble. It was dusk when they’d spotted the other ship, and full dark by the time Hongjoong found himself adrift at sea. He’d thought more than once that he was going to drown as he bobbed and twisted on his tiny raft, but his knots were flawless and he always managed to right himself. Once he was out of the pull of the sinking Galleon, things had settled.
He’d never prayed before, always feeling as though his problems weren’t worthy of the gods, but as he laid on his board and drifted on the dark, endless ocean, he looked up and prayed to the stars. They were the one thing that had always led him true, after all.
He didn’t really know how to pray, but he did his best. He saw how beautiful the stars were, really appreciated them, and started talking.
“I don’t know if you can hear me, but I don’t want to die out here. I don’t really need much, just a little push in the right direction. I don’t really have anything to offer you, but I’ll find a way to make it up to you, I promise.”
Suddenly, he felt the current change, and saw a shooting star come down moments later. He lifted his head just in time to see it disappear behind the faintest smudge of a treeline.
Hongjoong was a tough boy. He’d grown up around sailors and had started working on ships before he’d even hit puberty. Even so, alone on his board and drifting towards a small sliver of an island, he cried.
…
Hongjoong wasn’t a fool. His mother (gods rest her wretched soul) had taught him to recognize when the work of the gods was afoot, and she’d also taught him to always keep his promises. So, when he finally washed ashore on the small spit of land half an hour later, he wiggled free of his lashings and immediately began scouring the sand.
He gathered every shell, rock, and piece of driftwood he could carry, and hauled them back to where he’d first landed. He didn’t really know how one made a shrine to a god, but he thought maybe whichever god had saved him was kind enough to appreciate that he was trying his best.
He made a circle of stones, and tried to arrange the driftwood to look like the band of milky stars that reached across the night sky on a clear night. He carefully placed shells about where he thought his favorite stars were, occasionally looking up to double check. He was working in the dark, barely having enough light to see by, but somehow he felt that lighting a fire would be disrespectful, since it would blow out his eyes and make it harder for him to see all the stars of the god that had saved him.
Finally, Hongjoong leaned back to admire his handiwork. It felt like it was still missing something, and he grabbed his pack and rummaged around to see if he could get any inspiration. He found his stash of earnings from his few weeks on the ship, and without hesitation he pulled out the shiniest silver piece he could find.
“This is the most valuable coin I have right now. I’m sorry it’s not gold, but maybe silver looks more like the stars anyway?” he said out loud, placing the coin right in the middle of his small tableau. “Thank you for saving my life. If I live through this, I’ll never forget you.”
A warm breeze rustled the trees and tousled his still-damp hair, making him shiver slightly. He hugged his pack to his chest and felt exhaustion starting to overtake the adrenaline of the night’s events.
He didn’t light a fire that night, instead using his sodden pack as a pillow and laying on the warm sand, looking up at the stars until he fell asleep.
He woke hours later to the sound of sails flapping in the distance.
…
Hongjoong kept his promises. He never forgot the star god that saved his life that night, and he took every opportunity to show his gratitude.
At every meal, he threw his first bite into the fire as an offering, or if there was no fire, he threw it out to sea. He sometimes had to do this in secret so the other men didn’t see him throwing out precious rations, but he always felt like it was worth it.
At port, before drinking with the crew, he would find the tallest building he could feasibly climb - often bribing his way into the clocktower of a church, though one time he did try to climb the tower of a castle and nearly got himself shot - and he would leave the shiniest coin he had on the highest ledge he could reach.
On clear nights, he always looked up at the stars and whispered his gratitude with a smile on his lips.
Seonghwa heard him, and as the years passed and the man’s devotion only grew, Seonghwa began to love him for it.
He made Hongjoong’s life easier whenever he could. In the dead of night, he steered away those who meant his loyal follower harm, but always sent Hongjoong and crew safe to port and to prosper.
Over the years, whispers of Hongjoong’s uncanny luck became local legend, and he went from a swabbie to the captain of his own loyal crew of pirates who sailed only by night. Somehow, they always seemed to just barely miss the devastating storms that ravaged the tropics, and illness never touched Hongjoong or his men. They became the bane of local lords, and found themselves growing rich.
Hongjoong recognized the work of his star god, and remained grateful and devoted.
He often spoke to his god, though he never expected any answers back. He wondered why a god would be so kind to such a wicked pirate, and if there was anything he could be doing better. He made a promise to his stars that one day he would build a proper shrine, maybe even a temple, where people could worship properly.
Seonghwa wished he could answer, but stars rarely spoke. He didn’t care about human morality or politics. Humans always killed each other, it didn’t really matter to him why one group or another chose to do it, so Hongjoong’s questions seemed rather silly to him. He enjoyed the conversation anyway. He so rarely got more than the wishes of children or the vague gratitude of other sailors that Hongjoong’s direct and near-constant worship and offerings were like a drug, filling him with more raw power than he’d felt in millenia. He knew that it was barely a drop compared to the thousands of worshippers that the younger, more relevant gods had, but that was fine. It was all he needed.
…
After more than fifteen years of sailing and growing rich off the gold of spoiled princelings and fat lords, Hongjoong decided it was time to keep his promise. He swaggered into the throne room of the king himself, dressed in stolen finery and precious jewels, and struck a deal. He’d become a privateer for the king in exchange for safe port, steady pay, and a prime parcel of land (which had conveniently belonged to a lord Hongjoong had run through with his sword only the other day, but those were minor details). The king was suspicious at first, but Hongjoong simply grinned and said he wanted a place to settle down, and safety for his crew.
It was a common enough reason to go from pirate to privateer, and no king would pass up the opportunity to have him and his men on their side. The king agreed with almost no bargaining.
Hongjoong let his crew run off and have their fun in port while he bought himself a fine new horse and rode out to his new manor house. He’d never quite gotten the hang of horses, much preferring the swaying of ships, but she was a calm old mare who was patient with him, so he couldn’t complain much.
When he reached his house, he stabled the horse and handed the decree from the king to the steward. The man had about fainted in shock, and Hongjoong had told him to take the night off and continue his duties in the morning. He didn’t know how to run a manor, and he didn’t particularly care, he was only here for the land itself.
He wandered about the property, not sure exactly what he was looking for, but knowing he would find inspiration eventually. It finally came in the form of a small, lonely pond tucked in a grove of trees.
This area of the grounds hadn’t been as well-maintained as the others, and there were brambles and reeds blocking any direct access to the water. However, as Hongjoong explored, he discovered the pond was formed around a bubbling spring head, and because of this, there was no algae on the surface, and the water itself was crystal-clear.
He smiled to himself, knowing he’d found the perfect spot.
…
Hongjoong was no architect. He was a pirate captain, so he knew how to tie excellent knots, swing a sword, fire a musket one-handed while hanging from rigging, and navigate using incoherent maps scribbled by madmen. However, Hongjoong was stubborn, and he was clever. He was determined to build every inch of this shrine himself, for reasons he could never quite articulate whenever someone tried to ask why he wanted to learn how to build a bridge instead of just hire someone to do it for him.
The questions didn’t matter. All that mattered was that someone was always willing to teach him if he threw enough coin at them.
Things didn’t go as fast as he would have liked, since his deal with the king did mean he was required to sail occasionally, but he always talked to his star god, assuring him that he wouldn’t forget, that he would come back and build him the most beautiful shrine a simple pirate was capable of building. Every time they came back to port after weeks at sea, he’d ride home and spend his days clearing rushes, pulling out brambles, and carefully arranging large, flat stones around the banks of the pond. Occasionally, he’d drop a precious gemstone or coin in the water to glitter up at the sky and reflect the stars.
While on one of his trips to sea, he came across a ship with a cargo of strong, striking wood planks larger than any tree he’d ever seen. The manifest had called them “redwoods”, and the letters he’d found said the trees were so tall they reached the heavens. He’d immediately ordered his crew to load some onto their ship. They’d all grumbled and called him names, but had followed his orders. When he was next at home, he’d had the planks hauled to his property and meticulously sawed them and nailed them himself over the span of weeks, building a simple but sturdy bridge over his little bubbling spring that let him sit in the very middle and look up at the sky.
He found a florist who sold great flowering vines that only bloomed in the dead of night, and spent an entire spring tending them so they would curl around the rails of his bridge.
The final touch had been a truly garish broach that the king had gifted to Hongjoong after a particularly profitable expedition. It was a giant opal, set in silver and surrounded by all manner of sparkling jewels. Hongjoong didn’t wear jewels on his ship very often, only when he needed to meet with someone and make an impression, and he’d known immediately that he wanted to give this one to his star god. He’d gone to a small local artisan and bought a single, delicate bowl made of the thinnest porcelain he’d ever seen, and that night he placed the broach in the bowl and set it to float on his pond just as the moonflowers bloomed.
He’d spent more than half his life devoted to his star god, and always known his good fortune and fair winds were due to his god’s kindness. He’d never needed or expected more than that.
But that night, he got more.
…
It had been centuries, maybe millenia since Seonghwa had manifested a physical form. However, it had also been that long or longer since any one person was so devoted to him, and him alone. Had anyone ever been this devoted to only him? Maybe, long ago, but he couldn’t remember it anymore.
In a few short years, Hongjoong had shown him more raw devotion than he could ever remember. He’d spent those years saving and building his power, wanting to be able to speak to his pirate one day, and recently Hongjoong had flooded him with it by single-handedly building a proper shrine with valuable and hard-earned offerings. That final offering had slammed power into him, and he knew he’d finally be able to maintain a physical form for a decent amount of time.
He took his time, gathering his starlight, and started with a breath.
“Hongjoong…” Whispered the trees.
“Hongjoong…” Sang the spring.
“Hongjoong…” Chirped the crickets.
“Hongjoong.” Breathed Seonghwa, as he appeared in a swirl of stars and smoke, standing on the center of the bridge in the shrine built by his most dedicated follower.
His most dedicated follower, who was sitting on the shore of the pond and crying.
“Oh dear,” said Seonghwa with a small smile, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“You…” Hongjoong gasped, “Oh, oh you…” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Am I dreaming? Am I dead?”
“No, I am not the god who takes the dead.” Seonghwa said simply. Hongjoong laughed hoarsely.
“Well that’s a relief, I suppose.” He heaved a breath. “Are you… my star god?” the pirate whispered.
“Yes.”
“You’re… fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He looked surprised at himself. “Sorry, I uh-”
“Thank you,” Seonghwa said with a smile. “You have done so much for me, I’m glad I can finally thank you directly.” Hongjoong blinked at him.
“So much for you? I… You saved my life. You’ve kept me and my men safe. You’ve made me rich.” Hongjoong fell forward on his hands and knees, in a full kneeling bow. “Nothing I do for you is enough.”
“Please, get up.” Seonghwa said gently. “I am not here to ask for more worship from you. You truly have already done so much.” Hongjoong looked up at him, quite literally star-struck.
“I can’t believe I’m seeing you, I never dreamed I would.”
“I didn’t have enough power to show myself to you before. It’s been quite a long time since I’ve been able to make a body for myself.” Seonghwa lightly touched the flowers on the bridge, smiling as they shifted their petals to face his soft glow. He looked back to Hongjoong. “But you’ve built me this beautiful place, given me so many offerings and so much praise, that it gave me power to have a physical body again.” Seonghwa gently probed out with that power, feeling the boundaries. “However, I don’t believe I’m strong enough to leave this bridge quite yet.”
Hongjoong’s eyes widened as he took all of this in. He slowly sat back again, resting his wrists on his knees. “I’ve… been giving you power? With all of my little coins and rations and whatnot?” Seonghwa smiled at him.
“Yes. Most people only send me wishes and small thoughts of appreciation. You, however, have spent years selflessly throwing all of your worship and devotion at me. I’ve done what I could to repay you-” Hongjoong suddenly began to cry again, and Seonghwa stopped, tilting his head in concern.
“I’m sorry, I’m not usually such a blubbering mess.” Hongjoong said, swiping at his face with his sleeve. “I just… fuck, I’ve spent my whole life grateful to you, and knowing that the little things I was doing actually helped you, actually mattered …” He heaved out a breath, trying to steady himself, but instead broke down in sobs. Seonghwa desperately wanted to move towards him, but he could only take a few steps before he felt his form start to shimmer.
“I’m sorry, this must be very overwhelming. Would you like me to go?”
“No!” Hongjoong yelled out, lunging forward on all fours. “Please, please stay. I have so much I want to ask you, so many things I want to thank you for.” Seonghwa smiled at him.
“You’ve already thanked me, that’s why I’m here.”
“But-”
“Will you come sit on the bridge with me? I can’t come any closer to the shore right now.” Hongjoong blinked, then scrambled forward, finally getting to his feet.
He walked unsteadily onto the bridge, visibly shaking the closer he got. Seonghwa knew that being in the presence of gods was unsettling for most mortals, but he hoped that Hongjoong would get used to him in time.
Seonghwa sat gently on the bridge, arranging himself in a soft lotus pose on a pillow of nebula smoke. Hongjoong watched, wide-eyed, and awkwardly tried to copy him.
“Why can’t you leave the bridge?” Hongjoong asked, once they were settled. Seonghwa tapped his chin thoughtfully.
“This bridge is where my connection to the shrine is strongest.” Seonghwa smiled. “I’ve never been much of a shrine-going god, so I don’t have formal rules, but your intention to use wood that reached the heavens seems to have worked.” Hongjoong’s eyes were wide and wondering.
“You don’t have any other shrines?”
“None that anyone still living built or used. Just yours.” Seonghwa said, rustling Hongjoong’s hair with a soft breeze. The pirate’s breath hitched.
“I’ll… I’ll build you more! I’ll build you a shrine in every-“ Seonghwa’s laughter interrupted him.
“Please, you really don’t have to do that.” Seonghwa looked around, and starlight swirled softly around them, rustling the vines and reflecting off the calm surface of the pond. “I like this one. It’s perfect.”
Hongjoong watched the small twinkling lights dance around them, enraptured, and Seonghwa brushed his cheek with a few. He didn’t know what they felt like to a mortal, but judging by Hongjoong’s soft gasp, it was pleasant.
“Do you have more things to ask me? I feel it’s the least you deserve after all these years.” Hongjoong blinked rapidly, looking dazed.
“I… fuck, I can’t even think right now.” Seonghwa chuckled, then raised an eyebrow as Hongjoong seemed to think of something suddenly. “Do you have a name?”
“Seonghwa, in your language.”
“Seonghwa…” The pirate repeated the name, tasting it and getting a feel for it. “It’s as beautiful as you are,” he said very seriously.
Seonghwa laughed, charmed. “That’s very sweet of you.”
“I truly have never seen anyone so…” Hongjoong seemed at a loss for words, and ran his hands through his hair.
“I’m a god,” Seonghwa said with a small smile, “I would imagine I’m very different from anyone you’ve seen.”
“Why did you save me? That first time, when our ship sank?” Seonghwa had expected this question, and was surprised it had taken so long.
“You asked me to.” He said simply. Hongjoong furrowed his brows. “I usually only get direct requests from children sending me wishes, which are often a bit… fantastical, and beyond my power.” He smiled, and Hongjoong chuckled. “You, however, looked up at me directly and asked for help. Earnestly, and honestly. I help those that ask, when I can, and yours was a request I could fulfil with the very little power I held at the time.”
“But… the stars are so great, and vast, and…” Hongjoong waved his hand vaguely. “You should have the most power of them all!” He finished, pounding a fist on his knee. Seonghwa chuckled at him.
“I am old, and I have outlived many other gods. I was here before the creation of mortals, so I don’t require their devotion to maintain my domain like the younger gods.” Seonghwa looked up at himself, appreciating the sky from Hongjoong’s perspective. “My domain is different, it maintains itself. However, I don’t have much… direct power, to interfere in the lives of mortals. When children send me wishes, it gives me little sparks, and sometimes it’s enough to fulfill what they want. When a sailor looks up and thanks me for leading them true, it’s enough that I can shine a little brighter for them.” He looked back down at Hongjoong, whose eyes had never left him. “But you’re different. You’ve been throwing devotion and worship at me for years, feeding me power I haven’t felt in centuries. I don’t need it, but I am immensely grateful for it.”
His stars swirled around them again, rustling Hongjoong’s hair and making him suck in a breath. “I’m… I’m glad that my little tokens and offerings have actually done something. Really, truly glad.” He started to tear up again. “Can I… Can I touch you? I just… I want…”
“No,” Seonghwa said gently, and sighed when Hongjoong’s face fell slightly. “Please, don’t misunderstand me. It’s not that I don’t want you to, but I don’t have enough power to protect you if you touch me. I would hurt you.” Hongjoong looked determined suddenly.
“I can handle pain.” Seonghwa smiled sadly.
“It’s not just pain. Mortals are not made to touch a god. I would kill you.” Hongjoong’s eyes went wide and he sat back.
“Oh.”
‘Mhm.”
“Is… can I do something to make it easier? I already said I’d build more-” Seonghwa laughed and waved a hand at him, blowing a shimmering breeze in his face.
“You really are determined, aren’t you?” Hongjoong nodded enthusiastically. “I have to admit, I do enjoy that about you.” Seonghwa sighed, somewhat dramatically. “If you are so determined, I can’t exactly stop you, though I will warn you that I have never been able to manifest a body that was strong enough to protect a mortal from my godhead. I’m sorry, I can’t really give you any instructions or promises.”
“That’s fine, this is a promise from me to you. I won’t rest until I’ve given you enough power that I can embrace you.” Hongjoong grinned, and Seonghwa smiled back. He knew that Hongjoong kept his promises.
…
Hongjoong spent every free moment dedicated to the task of feeding Seonghwa power. He spoke to the priests in the temples of other gods and goddesses at every port, visited other shrines, and spoke to every wise woman and seer he could find for ideas. Some of these were a bust, and he decided very early that he didn’t want to copy anything directly from the temples of other gods, but he was willing to learn from them and use them as inspiration.
He spoke to Seonghwa whenever he could, peppering him with questions about what kind of offerings were best, and Seonghwa patiently answered him. Hongjoong learned that the best offerings were the ones that were hard-earned and had high value to him, but that he still gave freely, which is why so much power had come from small offerings of his limited rations and coins. This made sense to him, and he was happy to continue giving Seonghwa the best of what he found, feeding the pond the most stunning and valuable jewels, burning the tastiest pieces of meat, and offering the best coin from his pouch every time the king paid him.
Eventually, Hongjoong even got his men involved. They’d always known about their Captain’s devotion to his god, and the results spoke for themselves, so it didn’t take much to convince them to start giving their own offerings. Eventually, Hongjoong brought the six men he trusted most to his shrine, and Seonghwa appeared before them, dazzling them all. The six of them joined Hongjoong in his quest to feed Seonghwa power after that.
One night, Seonghwa felt he might actually be powerful enough to touch Hongjoong, and asked if he could try. Hongjoong agreed eagerly, and Seonghwa touched his arm with a single finger. Hongjoong had collapsed, and Seonghwa had fretted over him for almost an hour before he’d woken up, groggy and drained, but smiling and reassuring his beautiful god that it had all been worth it just to feel that one touch. Seonghwa was ready to vow never to touch him again, but Hongjoong wouldn’t hear it, and doubled down on his promise to keep giving Seonghwa power until they could embrace properly.
…
Hongjoong was at sea when the revolution started. Word reached them late, as it always did when they were on ship, and came in the form of a burning ship flying the king’s flag. He and his crew saw the smoke and sailed towards it, only to see the smouldering vessel adrift and empty, a portent of the violence on the mainland.
Hongjoong had immediately ordered his men to sail for home.
He didn’t care about the king, and he didn’t care if the entire city burned. But he cared about his shrine, and he knew that tales of the king’s personal pirate had circulated, and people would come for his estate. They wouldn’t find any jewels or riches in his home, but the shrine…
He was almost too late. He had to fight his way off the ship as soon as they docked, falling into a familiar dance with his sword until he reached the stables. Most of the horses had been stolen or killed, but they’d left his old mare alone, not believing her to be valuable enough to bother with. He sent a quiet thank you to his lucky stars, and pushed the poor old girl harder than she’d ever been pushed towards home.
They were at his gate when he arrived. He saw them from the road and swerved off to the side, going around to a back entrance to his property that was off the main road. He dismounted his horse, giving her a quick nuzzle before slapping her rump and letting her run off to safety.
He sprinted to his shrine, and found a shimmering, translucent form already standing on the bridge.
“Seonghwa!” he called, “It’s daytime, why are you here!”
“The stars don’t leave during the day, they’re just harder to see. And your sun is in my domain anyway.” Hongjoong didn’t have time to think through that, he just collapsed at the foot of the bridge, panting. “Hongjoong, you’re hurt!”
“Nothing serious,” the pirate waved him off. “There are men at the gate-”
“I know.” Hongjoong blinked at him, then laughed hoarsely.
“Yes, I suppose you would. I can’t let them reach this place.” Seonghwa kneeled in front of him.
“Don’t worry about me, Hongjoong. I love this place, but you are more important-” Hongjoong looked up at him with fire in his eyes.
“I will not let them near you.” Before Seognhwa could protest further, they heard the distant crashing of the gate and the yells of the revolutionaries as they made their way inside the grounds. Hongjoong stood, back to Seonghwa, and faced them.
It only took a few minutes for them to find the shrine. Everyone knew that pirates liked to hide their treasure, and Hongjoong standing bloody and furious in front of a pond shimmering with half-buried jewels was exactly the sort of thing the mob had hoped to find.
He fought valiantly. He didn’t let a single one of them onto the bridge, and he did his best to fling their bodies away from the pure waters of the spring.
But a man was no match for a mob.
Hongjoong died defending his god.
Seonghwa felt it.
It was a revelation, the death of his most devoted and beloved mortal. Seonghwa had never had many followers, certainly none as deeply devoted as Hongjoong, and so he had not known what many other gods knew, what they kept a closely guarded secret.
The willing sacrifice of a loyal follower was the ultimate show of devotion, and the most potent source of godly power.
He’d also never felt the need for vengeance before. It was a devastating combination.
The grief of a god is incomprehensible to a mortal person. No mortal can truly understand losing not only love, but also the source of your life force, the reason for your power and existence, a person more devoted and reverent than any mere lover.
The skies darkened as the moon itself moved to cover the sun, to bring night in the middle of the day, and the mob became suddenly aware of the presence of a wrathful god in their midst.
He left the bridge.
The power of a thousand million stars, focused and grieving and possessing more fury than any mortal is capable of, is something that no man could survive. And no one did. Once Seonghwa was finished, not a single trace of any person who had ever raised a hand to Hongjoong was left in the world. They’d all been burned away with righteous starfire, with even their ashes being ripped to raw atoms. The pond was left pristine, with almost no trace of the violence that had been wrought there, except for the trampled and bleeding body of his beloved Hongjoong.
Seonghwa grieved as only a god could. He touched Hongjoong’s face, his hands, and wept because Hongjoong had died keeping his promise. Seonghwa could touch him now, but only because he’d died for him. He gathered the pirate’s body close, wrapping him in starlight, and laid him to rest in a bed of marigolds as the stars wept and fell around them.
Gods do not worship or build shrines. That is the domain of mortals. However, Seonghwa was older than those rules, and cared little for them. He swept himself over all the beaches in the world, gathering the finest grains of sand from every beach Hongjoong had ever stepped foot on. He used the heat of his starfire to melt them into shimmering glass, and blew the breaths of supernovae into the molten sand to shape it into the form of a man.
It was not his Hongjoong. It could not speak, or think. It was an unbreakable glass effigy made by a god, but it could only do what Seonghwa instructed of it.
He had known that all Hongjoong had wanted in life was to touch and embrace him, had seen the desire and lust in his eyes. He couldn’t give him his wish in life, so he’d do what he could to honor it in death. He embraced the glass man with Hongjoong’s face, standing over the place where he’d laid the real man’s body to rest. He wept constantly as he embraced his glass man, but felt compelled to finish his task and honor his pirate.
Seonghwa was not the god of the dead. He could not force Hongjoong to halt his journey to the underworld, for every mortal was granted the right to peace after the pain of life. But he could put his desires into the world the same way that mortals did, and perhaps Hongjoong would hear him, and feel peace knowing his promise had been fulfilled.
But Seonghwa was not used to having this kind of godly power. He didn’t realize the kind of beacon he was creating for the soul of his pirate, and he didn’t know that this was why gods did not worship mortals.
Death was another old god, and while they did not like their domain being disrupted, they made exceptions in certain circumstances. One of those was for the creation of new godlings, which occasionally happened when a particularly strong mortal soul had a drive and purpose that transcended their death. Hongjoong’s soul shone like a beacon, and Death could see the thick threads of starlight that connected him to the grieving god above. They took Hongjoong to the side, away from the dimmer, calmer souls around him, and the two began to bargain.
Suddenly, the glass man was still, no longer following Seonghwa’s instructions. He thought at first that his power had waned too much when he hadn’t been paying attention, but then warm sandglass hands tightened around his waist and a voice made of crashing waves and snapping sails whispered in his ear.
“Seonghwa? Am I dreaming?”