The Chosen by Jeremy Laszlo

it was not her beauty that enthralled Seth, it was her attire. The goddess stood before him, a slender, petite woman with all the right proportions, only this time she came to him dressed for battle. She was covered from toe to neck in polished black armor. So polished was the armor its surface reflected the image from his solitary candle a million times, but so black were its depths that it seemed to suck what light there was in those reflections into itself, leaving the room feeling like a blackened abyss. Her hair hung loose about her shoulders, and in her hand she held a helmet of the same polished metal adorned with two large, curling horns. At her hip was strapped a long, thin blade, much like Seth’s own sword, only hers was obviously the better. The overall image would stay with Seth for all his days, both beautiful and menacing, a force to be reckoned with.
    Seth gathered himself, put all his jumbled thoughts back into place, and prepared himself for what he must do. Taking a deep breath once again, Seth began.
    “Goddess you honor me with your presence,” Seth stated looking her directly in the eyes before going on. “I have thought long and hard about your offer to serve you, and though I think it may be in both of our best interests for me to do so, I have some concerns that must be addressed before I can make my decision.”
    The goddess stood without moving as if a statue newly erected in Seth’s quarters. No hint of life escaped her body but for the hint of a small smirk upon her lips. She was amused, and thus replied.
    “Go on then. I have eternity at my disposal but forgive me if I do not wish to spend it here waiting for you to get on with it,” Ishanya said mockingly.
    “I am sure you well know my disposition towards the gods, m’lady. They ask much and give little, they demand tribute and prayer, and much more from those who serve them,” Seth continued.
    Ishanya’s smirk turned into an all-out smile at this point. Seth was playing right into her hands, and being impatient as she was for an immortal being, she finally decided she had heard enough.
    “Listen to me boy,” the goddess interrupted. “I know your heart, as it was I who created it. I know your soul as it is I who gave it unto your mother’s womb. I know what it is you want and I know what it is that you desire, and that being so, I have no more time to listen to your petty grievances. This is what I offer you and it should be much to your liking. I desire no prayer from you. As if I want to listen to your constant grumblings! You need not call to me each time you require the power to perform. You need not erect temples for my worship or wear garb depicting my image. Your miracles will be created at your own hands, and you have no need to ever thank me for granting them.” The goddess paused to let the boy with his inferior mind catch up.
    “What is the catch, m’lady?” Seth responded immediately.
    “What I offer you is a nearly unlimited source of power, though it will take a strong mind and a strong heart to use it. You already have the capacity for its use. I only have to show you its source. I will give you the world as we gods see it and you may do with it as you wish,” the goddess stated in her melodic voice, the smirk returning to her lips.
    “And what in return?” Seth asked bluntly.
    “In return for the gift, I ask only this…” The goddess Ishanya paused briefly and with a slight nod continued. “You need not pray to me or erect altars or temples as I have stated. However, when you perform any miracle of magnitude where there are witnesses, simply tell them it is by my power and in my honor that you perform them. Also, if asked by anyone whom you serve, you shall tell them simply that you serve the goddess Ishanya. Does that suit you, young Seth?” the goddess asked, her smirk vanishing.
    Seth thought it over a moment. This was basically the exact outcome he had hoped for, yet he did not have to plead nor