Back home we have our own sea cliffs. They lie a mile outside our small village. Joon and I would often race each other up to the top, breathless and laughing.
On our way down, we’d sometimes catch sight of Shim Cheong making her way up, her hand grasped tightly in her father’s. It would take them hours to reach the small meadow at the top of the cliff, but still they would make the climb. Patient, beautiful Shim Cheong and her father, whose murky eyes could never see the sunset, but who loved those daily walks beside his daughter, smiling as she described the world to him, tinged by the light of her love.
I blink, dissolving the memory.
And then I see him crumpled at the edge of the cliff. The Sea God. I rush forward, falling to my knees. His robes are shredded and muddied with dirt. I move my hand across the silk, and my fingers slide against something warm and wet.
Blood. The whole back of his robes is covered with it.
I cry out. “What happened? Who has done this to you?”
The Sea God, who’s been staring out at the sea, turns his face to look up at me. His eyes are glassy, his lovely face contorted with pain.
“The pain is nothing,” he whispers, his voice less that of a god’s and more that of a boy’s, small and breaking. “The pain is nothing compared with what I’ve done. I’ve failed them all.”
“No,” I say, smoothing wet strands of hair from his eyes. “You can make it right again. I’ll help you. There must be a way—”
Abruptly the Sea God reaches up, grabbing hold of my wrist. His eyes meet mine, and I gasp. I can see flames, a whole city burning inside his eyes. He releases me, and I’m flung backward, knocking my head against the ground. When I come to, I’m back in the Sea God’s hall.
I stare upward at the painting of the dragon on the wall. Then I remember. The rain. The storm.
Getting off the floor, I stumble to the Sea God. Quickly I examine his robes for blood, but they’re smooth, only damp from the rain.
The Sea God groans, sitting up. I move forward to help him, but he raises a hand to stop me. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to speak with you. Where were we just then? The cliff by the sea … Was it the human world? Why were you bleeding?”
“Stop! I’m the one who asks the questions. Why do you tell such sorrowful stories?” he cries. “Do you mean to break my heart? You should know, it was broken a long time ago.”
“Whatever happened on that cliff, is that the reason why the storms began? Was it a human who did that to you? Is that why you stopped protecting us? Is that why you abandoned us?”
He curls inward, as if to shield himself from my words. His voice is small, tired. “You say you are the Sea God’s bride, but how can you be when yours words fill me with such shame? The one who hurts me … is you.”
Outside, thunder rumbles over the palace. The rain continues to pour through cracks in the ceiling, rattling against the wooden floorboards. A part of me wants to leave, abandon the Sea God to his sorrow and fate. But another part of me wishes to stay, because even in my anger and frustration, my heart aches for him. In many ways, he reminds me of Joon when he was younger—a warrior now, but bullied by the other village children as a boy. He was bighearted and too kind. I used to scream at the older girls and boys who would tease and call him names. How dare they hurt my brother, who I loved most in the world.
Gently, I reach out and wrap my arms around the Sea God.
“What are you—” he protests.
I hold tight, lending him my warmth and my strength. “When I was little, I used to pray to you. When the storms raged and the waves broke against the shores, I was afraid, yet I believed in you. When the seas were calm and my brother and I played safely in the tide, I was happy, and I believed in you.”
“But no longer,” the boy-god mumbles.
“I believe in you still. Sometimes it’s hard, and I doubt myself, but I never doubt you. How can I doubt the sea, the wind, the waves? I wish I could bear some of your burden for you. Holding you now, I can feel how heavy it is.”
He starts to sob, and I wrap my arms around his neck, as if I could hold him together with just my strength. “I wish you could know, even after everything, even after the storms and the sorrow, how much your people miss you, and how we love you,” I say. “We will always love you, because you are ours. You are our sea, and our storms, and our sunlight breaking out over a new day. You are our hope. We’ve been waiting for you for such a long time. Come back to us. Please come back.”