Bella watched the growth of this movement from the high skies, drifting on currents of cold air.
From her perspective, recruitment was not a matter of gathering numbers, but of filtering temperament. She sought the steel in the soul.
She descended upon camps like a winter storm, her presence alone freezing conversations mid-sentence and frosting the rims of drinking mugs. Some saw her and immediately knelt, recognizing the avatar of Skadi.
Others whispered her name in hushed, fearful tones. "The Ice Goddess."
Bella ignored the flattery. She sought those who did not flinch when the temperature plummeted.
She looked for the warriors who held their ground when she descended, those who met her gaze without the hunger of greed or the paralysis of fear.
"You," she said to one woman whose armor was cracked and caked with the dried blood of a dozen skirmishes. "Why do you fight? For the loot? For the Power?"
