A Pirate for the Dead Goddess (Legends of Rahasia Book 2)

Chapter One

Spare the innocent, goddess. Spare them.

"But it'd be so much easier for sleep, wouldn't it?" I shake my head, see the child's fingers that'll never turn netting properly again. See the dead parents. See their village, in flames, from greedy invaders who didn't know to leave well enough alone. Invaders who I plan to make an example of for refusing to listen to Emperor Elio and his husband Ryu's policies on diplomacy and fair trade for Akua's recognized independence.

I'm about to embrace the child, shaking, in my arms when I realize something.

Oh...

I drop the dead body I'd hoisted over my arm to the ground. A bearded noble, their pockets still fat with gold. Much good it'll do them now.

The noble's ethereal soul falls onto its knees. This is the less fun part about being a death goddess. "You," I point to the rich man, so sure he could just kill entire families and steal their livelihood because he was entitled. "You're going to get sewn into the fabric of the Before and serve as an energy-source for eternity until you've learned your lesson, you scum."

The noble screams as I snap my fingers and their soul evaporates.

I forgot I was still carrying this wretch's body.

I drop the physical body. The child, to its credit, doesn't flinch. Brave for only eight or nine or so and already witnessing their parents' death.

"Kokua..." the child wipes away their tears, grimacing as their poor fingers bend back. "Help me. Kokua."

"Moe, you're safe now." I kneel. It's so difficult, with their parents still watching me. I must be a sight. One eye glowing bright red, the other jet black. Hair a halo mess of tight black curls. Skin the color of the earth. Clad in male armor, wearing a bloodied blade at my side. And my face, not aged a single year since the Three Brothers' War that was ending right when this child was born. Still, I looked a teenager. But already feeling as though I've been a goddess for millennia. Already drunk on power. Bloodshed.

So, this is what being a legend feels like.

"Would you like to come with me and your parents?" I hold out my hand, kneeling and trying to make myself as unimposing as possible.

The child, to its brave credit, spits at my outstretched hand. "A'ole! Then I'll be dead too! No, I'm not going with you, death goddess. If I die, I can't get revenge. And only one was my real parent. The other man was my uncle. My real father... he left me."

I glance at the child's fingers, amused despite myself. "And how will you fight? How will you take down an entire crooked trade, a trade more crooked than your fingers by human greed and exploitation of the honest?"

The child doesn't even hesitate. "I'll tear their throats out with my teeth. That greedy filth will fear me all over the world."

I smirk, wiping a smudge of dirt and blood from their cheek. A strong child. A warrior through and through.

They remind me of someone. Wasn't I like that once?

"I won't take you with me then. Let me take some pain from your hands. I can't do as good a job as my husband. He has all the life powers, unfortunately. Death only goes so far." The child's eyes were blank, so I quit chattering. "Hold mostly still." I sigh. The child screams in pain when I set a few bones. But the child, nonetheless, doesn't run from me.

They almost seem to revel in the pain. Guilt? Is that what causes this?

Guilt for losing their parents?