She stood elevated on a platform, Her eyes closed, letting the sound of the final words of Her chant, as recited by the initiates, wash over Her like a cool breeze. She took a deep breath as they quieted, and exhaled slowly, opening Her eyes. She observed them a moment, knowing they dare not move an inch until She commanded it.
Nine men knelt before Her, heads bowed. Her new initiates. For several weeks, they would suffer trials of body, mind and spirit, separating the worthy from the filth. The few able to relinquish these three aspects of themselves to Her completely, would be elevated to take place in Her army. Some would do so blindly and willingly, some would need to be broken. Those who would reject the Offering of Self would be condemned to lowly servitude, banishment, or, on rare occasions, death.
Her eyes lingered on two of the men. Both had caught Her attention in very different ways.
The Proud One... he sought to prove himself the most worthy of all. He danced through every trial put before him, making a show of every accomplishment, convinced his natural skill and endurance would lift him above the others. His potential could not be denied, and She wished to see in which direction his pride would push him.
But the second... The Scarred One. Unlike the other, he had no natural ability to help him along. He struggled through each trial, learning the necessary skills as he did them. It slowed him down, but it never discouraged him. Every trial seemed a triumph for survival to him, and She enjoyed watching his expression of relief each time he succeeded. She was glad to note he never failed the same trial twice, and was curious to see how far he could push himself.
Perhaps, in one of these two, She would find Her Ceannard.
The heat was cruel this day. She took advantage of this. Every man stripped bare, their uniforms neatly folded beside them. She let the sun kiss their skin red before giving the word that would begin the day's training. She watched each initiate turn their backs to Her before rising, letting the instructors lead them away.
Everyday, the initiates would spend time alone with Her for conditioning of The Three. She would take them to the very limits their mind, body and spirit would allow, until they merged into one, perfect being, ready to devote their entire Self to Her. Some would call it torture. Regardless, it was necessary, and She took in every cry of pain as a precious Gift.
Stepping into Her tent, She found the Scarred One waiting for Her, arms tied high over his head, his back exposed to Her. She let herself Love him, and what he offered Her, as She would for every initiate who would follow after him. They were precious to Her. They needed Her guidance and protection, and so it was Her duty to Love and elevate them.
As was his habit, he gave a slight tremor of anticipation as She approached him. She noticed the skin on his shoulders, lightly burned by the sun. Good. This would make his skin so much more sensitive to Her blades. Leaning forward, She whispered into his ear.
"Are you ready?"