Love Is Always Write Volume 4

metallic and flexible, Kekoa disturbingly looked the part of the warrior priest he was. His equally platinum boots resounded on the vast expanse with deadly echoes.
    "Have you ever killed anything?" Kekoa gave him a sideways glance as they walked toward the imposing statue of Meha. The feminine representation was at least ten times Kekoa's height, which was already large.
    Darien felt for some unexplained reason empowered by his similar outfit, the only difference his was pure white. "As in another person?"
    Kekoa murmured, his eyes still forward, "Not necessarily. Any living creature."
    "Yes. We used to hunt on one of the forest moons of Varax." Well, he didn't know if Kekoa knew where Varax was, but that was the answer.
    "Good, then you won't be grossed out by what I'm about to do." This time Kekoa faced him with a wicked grin. "Some people don't mind killing other people but get squeamish when it's other creatures."
    "I know; it doesn't make sense. I think the logical reaction should be to have reservations about killing your own kind."
    "In some individuals it becomes an acquired taste," Kekoa uttered cryptically.
    Before Darien could ask the meaning of those words, Kekoa stopped them close to the enormous pedestal and, with a finger over his lips, silenced him. Speaking in an incomprehensible language, Kekoa moved his hands as a prestidigitator would, summoning chunks of the walls at either side of them.
    The blocks flew toward the space between them and the base of the giant statue, neatly forming an altar. From the monolithic foundation under Meha, something similar to a bowl emanated, landing on the center of the recently formed altar. As if it had always been part of it.
    "What you're about to do is a great honor. One I share with you immersed in infinite gratefulness." Kekoa bent a little and kissed the top of Darien's head. "I'm glad you are here."
    Hands busy with flowers and fruits, Darien had to repress the now natural motion of pulling Kekoa into his arms. Resigned, he uttered, "Me too." He felt silly instantly because that could have meant he was happy that Kekoa was glad or that he was happy because he was there. He wanted to kick himself for being inarticulate at the worst possible moments.
    Kekoa smiled at him, perhaps reading his inner tirade or simply enjoying his company in this sacred place.
    Grr. This is the most stupid moment to have an argument with myself.
    "Place your offerings on the altar and display them inside the boule , first the fruits and then sprinkle the flowers over them." Kekoa traced one hand up and down Darien's back, soothing and encouraging at once. "Take your time and think about her."
    Darien worked on his oblation, remembering the exchange they had the previous night.
    "She was the goddess of passion and turmoil who evolved into the goddess of war."
    "That doesn't make any sense."
    "Don't we all fight for love at some point in our lives? It makes sense that passion and war became one and the same in the minds of our ancestors. Her presence lingers here. This is her planet. That is why we can't completely abandon or destroy it.
    “Legend says that in a ritualistic love-making obeisance for the goddess, General Kaweh discovered the five points to detroy an enemy inspired by the goddess’ wisdom: your orifices, your senses, your limbs, your head, your heart. Thus, the five temples were created to develop the knowledge to defeat our enemies. This happened when the the planet where your people originated from was still covered in lava and newborn, millions of years ago.
    "That is why your people or any other should not explore here. The information contained in these abandoned buildings can be used to conquer entire galaxies easily."
    Darien finished. The composition was lovely, and aside from the recall of their conversation, he felt a gentle pull toward the presence surrounding them, dotting his intention with the desire to please Meha.
    Kekoa put his hand over Darien's right shoulder. "It's perfect." Slowly threading along his shoulder and arm, Kekoa held his hand and pulled him a step behind. Once again, in that incomprehensible but melodic language, Kekoa waved his hands, still holding Darien's. A murmur-like wind zigzagging through many corridors encompassed them, and Darien followed Kekoa's line of vision upward. A dagger emerged from the breast of the goddess and descended in a surprisingly straight line in their direction. It landed quietly on Darien's open palm