Death and Her

"She's the Devil's child!"

"She brings bad luck. Stay away from her!"

"Be careful she doesn't kill you in your sleep!"

"You'll never be accepted!"

"Scram!"

"Witch!"

Who was she?

A witch? A walking abomination? Cursed? Hated and feared by all?

All of the above? The answer was yes.

But those who despised her forgot that she was only human--a human being made of flesh and bone and blood who had a beating heart. A heart that longed for a sense of belonging and a sliver of love.

Or maybe they just knew but didn't care.

Her mother died giving birth to her; her father would have gone with her, too, if not for his newborn child.

The man tried, he really did, but whatever love he had in his heart died along with the woman whom he promised his forever to. He tried to be a good father, and though it wasn't enough, she treasured it.

They lived in a small cottage in a small village long forgotten. All was fine until people started dying on her tenth birthday. A plague, somebody realised. Every villager died from it except her, and her father who was miles away the day it happened.

They moved to a new village. Three years later, on her birthday, all the livestock died. 

New place, same date, same events.

The adults hated her and the children threw rocks and salt at her when they saw her on the streets, convinced she was an evil spirit. Animals shunned her and plants withered from her touch.

One day, her father could no longer deny the truth in front of him. He snapped. He pointed a finger at her and listed out all the deaths she had caused. That day, his unmoving facade broke and tears streamed down his face as he choked out, "What have I done to deserve a curse like you?"

She felt something die in her chest. From that day on, even though she was alive on the outside, she was dead on the inside.

The one thing worse than her father breaking down and blaming her for everything was him just sitting in a corner, staring at something--someone--beyond those walls. That dead, empty look in his eyes cut worse than any words ever could.

Her eighteenth birthday came.

The last and only thing her father gave her before he went out to sea on his boat and never returned was her long overdue name--Ming. 

Ming meant life, but it also meant death. It was everything in between. It was also a message: This is your life. Here is your choice.

She became completely alone. On that night, she decided to leave. But she died.

The villagers banded together and burnt down her house with her in it. The fire burnt her skin and the smoke smothered her. A wall collapsed, trapping her.

However, Ming caught sight of a small opening. If she squeezed through, she could escape and live her life that was about to begin. She was so close to safety. So close.

She reached out a hand towards freedom, but her legs gave way and she stumbled.

"No..." The last wall fell. Her hand reached nothing but fire. "So close..."

Ming suddenly remembered everything. 

The wilted flowers, the deaths she caused. Her curse since birth was not a curse--it was her power. She was always named Ming. She was a goddess.

She was the goddess who gave up everything to save the world.

She was the Goddess of Death.

She created keys. There was a lock. The world was broken. A dark dragon had to be sealed.

And the only reason she would remember was if it no longed mattered. Her mortal life will end, and this time it was permanent.

When Ming was about to give up, she saw a blurry figure run to her. 

As the person knelt in front her, Ming saw it was a young girl from the village. The girl tugged on her hand, telling her to get up. Ming stopped her.

She whispered, "Do you know who I am?"

The girl paused. "You're the girl with death's touch."

"Then--" Ming coughed heavily. "Why save me? It is suicide. Don't you think I deserve to die too?"

The girl lay down beside her. Despite the raging fire about to swallow them whole, there was no fear in her eyes. She showed Ming her palm--and the shadows writhing around it.

"People like us..." the girl muttered. "We don't have a choice. But today, I made a choice to try and save you. I don't regret a thing."

There was something about the girl's tone that made Ming take her seriously. "You don't resent the world?"

The girl nodded, then shook her head. "I used to think, what if I can change the world? It was a fool's dream. I couldn't even change these villagers. But what does it matter now? Maybe I can be normal in the underworld..."

Ming finally pinned down the emotion in the girl's voice. It was emptiness tinged with a drop of hope. Like a weak sapling knowing it could not live on, yet still reaching for the impossibly far light.

"Maybe you can."

"What?"

"Maybe you can change the world."

Ming called up the last drops of her power and slammed a wave of invisible energy into the girl's body, watching her crumple to the ground.

Ming heaved a sigh of relief. "Find the key..."

Before she died a very final time, she smiled. 

No one could escape death. Not even the goddess of death itself.

***

The girl named Xue felt the invisible tug in her soul before it happened.

The hand pulled her soul out of her body, dragging her through planes of white, grey and black between dimensions.

The last thing Xue heard before the world went dark was Ming's voice.

"Find the key..."

***

In the underworld, King Yama was in his palace as usual. Unlike usual, today he was not judging newly dead souls for their crimes in life (also known as giving them a death sentence). Today, he sat on his throne, holding a mirror in his hands.

No, he was not obsessively monitoring the pimple in the middle of his forehead. Yes, even gods had pimples.

This particular mirror did not show his reflection; it showed him the status of both living and dead souls.

This mirror was a legendary grade artifact that would make its bearer omniscient, and King Yama was the only being in all the realms that could use it.

King Yama stared intently at the faint grey dot that represented one particular soul's current path and frowned. Something was not right. There was interference. 

Someone was cutting a story short before the ink on the final chapter had dried.

King Yama twirled a few of the black beads he wore on his wrist, calculating something. When he opened his eyes, there was some sort of realization in them.

"The stars are due to align soon, but a soul awaiting reincarnation would have to wait longer than that," muttered King Yama. "Whomever pulled that soul out of life and time must have planned everything perfectly."

Even though a mysterious person had interfered with his job, King Yama had no intention to further investigate the matter. He knew that anyone powerful enough to manipulate destiny wasn't someone he could mess with.

And so, the king of hell conjured up an old, bound book and flipped to the last page. He took out his special ink and brush, then blotted out all the neatly written words. A fate once set in paper and the rough cross drawn over it faded into nothing, leaving no trace at all.

Words that shaped the end of a soul's life were wiped away, just like that. The future became a mystery from that moment on.

King Yama closed the book and sighed. 'Back to boring duties tomorrow,' he thought. 'I hope this won't backfire on me.'

The name 'Xue' was written on the cover of the book that was kept aside by King Yama, and he never touched it again.