I must have looked just the same as her once. Just as dazzled by the silver glory of the knife being held out to me, the destiny illuminated by its shining blade. A life of heroism, power fettered by noble duty, and the chance, finally, when her body grows weak and power and duty are best passed on to the young, to become like me. To take an apprentice of her own and see that destiny shine in their eyes.

I won’t say anything to make her doubt herself or that destiny now. It will be easier for her later if she can hate me, feel betrayed by me, drive the blade home without guilt or hesitation. Just as I did to my mentor, as he did to his before me, and so on, so back, for as long as the knife I offer her now has been wielded to keep our land safe. The story has to go a certain way.

She thinks she is coming into her destiny now, taking the knife from my hands. But it is only when she understands how the story goes that she will truly become what I and destiny have fashioned her to be.