Every waking breath in the world, every heartbeat, every step, every life continuing the cycle was already a form of worship. Mortals lived upon their domains, under their skies, upon their land, within their boundaries. That alone was enough. That alone sustained the old divinities.
Because of this, Origin Gods never looked down, never leaned close, never intervened in mortal affairs simply because someone prayed hard enough or believed fiercely enough. Devotion meant nothing to them.
But actions, and especially symbolic actions tied to their essence, did.
And a hand-carved statue made by mortal hands, shaped with reverence or even fear was an action that echoed across divine boundaries.
The moment a human carved the likeness of an Origin God, and the moment that same human clutched it as their protection, that statue ceased being a simple object.
It became a conduit. Not of attention as the Origin Gods did not look.
