Do not negotiate. I do not placate. I do not entertain the trembling hesitations of half-hearted supplicants who approach with empty palms and fragile excuses.
But desire, my dear, is currency without value. Intentions are but dust without action. What I demand is tangible. What I require is gold not as ornament, but as testament. As sacrifice. As proof that your devotion transcends mere words and dares to manifest in the material.
Your ego? I have crushed grander ones than yours beneath the heel of my indifference. It will crumble. It will kneel. It will dissolve into the very nothingness it deserves all at my feet, where pride comes to perish.
I am not cruel
I am not cold. I am controlled.
I am not unattainable. I am earned.
So tell me, supplicant what are you bringing to my altar today? Gold? Devotion? Or merely the hollow echo of your own desperation?
Choose wisely. I am watching.
Eternally, irrevocably,
Goddess Chrysella
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