For Peace

18. Prayer for Hope

Seonghwa was swaddled into his blanket. He had started shivering pitifully a while ago, and Hongjoong blamed it on the wind that had picked up to chase thunderclouds across the stormy meadow. Leaves and flower seeds whirled through the air, creating a stunning spectacle of nature.

Not the breeze chased shudders over Seonghwa's spine. It was his fear, the shock after all the things that Seonghwa had brushed off so nonchalantly since they entered Morden. The dead crusaders, the ground bathed in blood, the ambush, Jongho. What happened to Wooyoung, Yeosang and himself.

Hongjoong carried him through the murderous lands, and his constant embrace and warmth were the only thing that kept Seonghwa from descending into hysteria. The few threads keeping his sanity together were cradled by a petulant child's hands, and he feared it to throw a tantrum anytime.

Under his blanket and with the wind in his hair, things were better. Seonghwa rested against Hongjoong's shoulder, needing to regain his energy after that scare. When he woke, he clutched his cross between his fingers and prayed.

"In confidence of Thy goodness and great mercy, O Lord, I draw near unto Thee, as a sick person to the healer, as one hungry and thirsty to the fountain of life, a creature to the creator, a desolate soul to my own tender comforter. Behold, in Thee is all whatsoever I can or ought to desire; Thou art my salvation and my redemption, my hope and my strength. Rejoice therefore this day the soul of Thy servant; for unto Thee, O Lord, have I lifted up my soul. Amen."

Hongjoong picked up on his whispers. When he tilted his head to catch Seonghwa's gaze, the priest fumbled with his necklace. His hands were bandaged in thick layers of cloth, but he felt the throb of the wounds through the length of his arms.

"Still confident that he will save you?" The gargoyle asked. No malice carried in his words, just the regular air of mockery that Seonghwa long since got used to.

"I will never stray off His path; I'm born to be who I am. If my prayers ease this journey in any capacity, I will pray until my knees bleed," Seonghwa muttered. How would they know if his past prayers weren't what saved Jongho's life? Though the crusader muttered folly in his fever dreams and Yeosang's mitigating hand wasn't enough to heal him, it might have gone far worse.

"It's fine to be afraid. If praying helps you deal, you can pray. Otherwise, we are here to help. I am here to help."

Seonghwa gulped, unable to look at him.

He knew his group would share his worries any day and that his urge to be the pillar of strength and kindness in their midst wore on him. He always had an open ear for others, but he so rarely found the words to convey the feelings in his own heart.

Yet, he felt tended for. They cared in their ways.

Hongjoong, however, was different. He was more to Seonghwa. The man he bore sin for, the man who reinvented the purpose of Seonghwa's faith. The man who brought light to Seonghwa's life of suffering.

It was unfair to keep secrets from him. Though Hongjoong understood, and his patience was undying, Seonghwa wanted to share everything with him. Both Hongjoong's thoughts and his own.

Was the gargoyle also scared by their encounter with the Reds? Had he got hurt while nobody noticed? How could Seonghwa claim a right to such answers if he didn't offer his own?

It was difficult for the priest to grasp that others cared for him as much as he cared for them. Aside from the Lord's blessings, he had never received such devotion.

"I'm deathly afraid," Seonghwa confessed. "I never bore such pain before, not to my body, but to my soul, as I saw you all locked up and tortured. I don't know how to endure the Reds and how to regard them as folk who discarded the Lord rather than hellspawn. What if they await us at the shrine? What if you get hurt?"