TW: Violence, severed digits

There would be a knock at the door of Viktoria’s home, a postman waited outside. In his hands, there was a letter. The envelope itself was nothing special, plain - no written text except Viktoria’s name. However, an ornate wax seal glittered under the lantern light once flipped over. It carried hints of silver, imprinted with the design of a disfigured raven. Once opened, a poem would be found on the inside:

Oceans rise and fall

You cannot hear them call you

Their blood will follow

The poem was left unsigned.

---

Days later, in the dead of night, there would be a pounding on the door. Though, by the time anyone would answer- whoever it was would be gone. Having long slipped away into the fog. The sounds of woglets croaked about, and if Viktoria looked down. At her feet, there would be an ornate wooden box. Different Korami sigils were carved into it, and atop would be a letter. This one bore no sort of postage, it didn’t even bare a name

When Viktoria opened the box, she found it was similar to a jewelry box. Red plush velvet lined the box, a mirror showed the woman her own reflection. Yet, inside the box, she found jewelry. However, it was not placed as one might expect it. Familiarity might cross her face- as they were rings familiar to her. Whoever had sent her the box, kept on the ring fingers of those whom they were taken - her parents. If she dared to open the letter after, she would find the following:

Dear Viktoria,

We have yet to meet. I do hope you enjoy the gift I have sent you. In case you are wondering, yes. They died screaming, begging for me to spare you’. You should have seen how they wept, knowing I was going to come for you next. They left me behind all of those years ago, I know it all; How you were favored, how the clan abandoned me. No, I have learned it all. I learned, and I do not forget. YOU. ARE. NEXT. Your sweet parents, oh so trusted. You- the heir to their positions. To be the second most respected. Well, dear sister, I am coming for this spot.

You are next. Then, once I am finished with you. I will burn the rest of the clan. In fact, I might bring you back with me. You shall watch, then you will go. I alone will rise from the ashes, creating it in my name. I am watching you- maybe even I am across the street, concealed by the fog as you read this letter.

I am coming for you, Viktoria. Everything that you have will eventually be mine.

With love, Your brother,

~K

@yoursecondexwife

The first night when she got that poem from the postman, she would be confused. No one really sends her letters, nor has she sent a letter to anyone in some time. Yet still something is delivered, and when she turns over the mail to see the sigil, a brow would be arched as she brings it inside. Opening it up to read the haiku. Odd, no one but her house mate knows she writes haikus, so who would ever give her one? Let alone one that has such a threatening aura to it. She would go back out, peaking left and right to no avail of sensing anyone about. She folds it up and heads inside to rest for tonight. 

----

The next delivery she gets, would come with a harsh surprise. She opens up that jewelry box and it takes very little time to decipher whose parts those severed fingers belonged to. She nearly drops the box from the moment it registers, but she clutches it closer to her chest to not 'hurt' it. 
Seeing a letter attached she would open it and read the contents, her heart sinking more with the double confirmation. She's wandered why she hasn't heard from her folks and now she knows she never will. Parts of the letter confuse her, a brother? She didn't have one, as far as she knew. Some runt from another clan faking it, perhaps? No, no little pathetic worm would be able to best her parents. She would close the box, crumbling up the letter as she walks back into her home and tosses the letter into the fire. The indifference in her eyes are washed away by a mixture of sadness and rage. 
Whoever this "brother" is, is going to meet a fate worse than death, where death will be their only mercy. 

She would get her weapons donned, her hair put up differently, before she would exit the house. She won't be coming back home until this pest is killed. 

A letter was kept, shot into the Kawatare shrine by a young girl. A rather poor archer. Written in the ancient tongue.

My Dearest Sister,

Take this as a warning. I am always watching. I hope you like the gift of arrows I have sent. In truth, she is not the best of archers. She is a rather weak link. I am hoping she gets lost in the storm, unable to make her way back. Not that she knows where we will be —a flight risk. Good luck tracking her back, though. She is fast.

With Regards, Your Brother,

~K

“Leaves from the vine…. Falling so slow….Like fragile tiny shells, drifting in the foam”

Viktoria perused the library, the woman’s footsteps sounding nearly non-existent as she searched. She was looking for a book, anything that might give her a hint on where this girl had come from. The only thing she knew, is that her clan had been wiped out. Though, many clans were wiped out during the war- it would be difficult to figure out which. Skimming books made it hard- though with the help of one of the librarians- she managed to find something.

Many clans made up Ko’ram.. Some notable, some un-notable…..Forgotten to history.. Extinct. Some pages would talk of minor skirmishes, all accounted through traders or the rare survior who managed to escape their village being burned. Yet, as Viktoria’s eyes ran page after page, one would catch her eye.

Content warning: Violence

Humiliation. That was all the girl felt as Viktoria stood there, speaking in a language she did not understand. Handing out the letter she herself had been tasked to send. Hearing not one, but three other people read it out. Letting her know she was worthless and that she was a failure. That he hoped she was going to get lost. Surely, it was a lie? Wasn't it? Yet it was not.

Maybe what she had been told was true, but that did not change the humiliation that ran through her. So, she swung at Viktoria in a blind rage. Before she turned, she bolted down the steps. She'd try to find her way through the spire, but she didn't know the town. She was smart enough to realize, however, that she was being chased. She tried to evade them, to hide three times. Yet, each time she was found. Eventually, a mistake was made- she tripped. Hands soon grabbed at her, going to pull her up. Dragging her from the attempted hiding spot. Her head hung in shame- she knew how this was going to end.

She did not know he was there. Though that would not matter. To anyone, it would look like she had led Viktoria there willingly. Yet, how could she? She had been sat in the basement of that shrine for many days. She didn't know anything, clearly. As she was dragged- or maybe she went willingly? Hoping to go back home. The location of the camp, it was different. Maybe they moved she hadn't returned, worried she would compromise the information. 

So to the camp they returned, thrown into a tent. She was told to wait, and wait she did. Hours had passed and she sat in silence. Eventually, a familiar  figure entered the tent. A sight for sore eyes, someone who- despite his cruelty- brought a twisted sense of safety. The green kimono he had worn earlier on, replaced by darker clothing. He walked forward, going to kneel down to the sitting girl.

She stared at him, admiration- a hint of betrayal. 

"I didn't tell them anything." She spoke first, out of turn. Her eyes closing, she waited to be hit. Though the hit never came. Instead, a hand was placed on her head.

"I am sure you did not say anything.. Yet, you led them to me." Words flowed like honey in the ancient tongue: "You decided to consort with them."

Her head whipped up, "I didn't! I tried to get away- but I couldn't."

"So, you failed then?"
"I tried- one of them could f-"
"Enough excuses, Aoi." His voice was firm.
"That letter-" The girl began, desperation filling her voice, "Am I truly a weak link? I've been trying my be-" 

She was cut off then, a hand sharply cutting across her face.

"Enough." The man stood then, "You are, yet- I keep giving you chances. Let this be your final one."

Stunned into silence by the hit, she stared up at him. Confusion swam across her face. 

"You will be molded into the perfect warrior yet. You just need more in training." 

With that, he turned to go. Exiting the tent, there was silence behind him. He spoke to the two guarding the tent, the words flew in common. Making sure fewer people understood,

"I don't care what you do- but break her hand. I don't need her using a bow, I need an excuse to get rid of her. Taking too long to heal will be one of them." 

The two outside the tent nodded, giving a deep bow as he departed. He, pulling off his gloves. After all, now they were sullied. As he went to depart from the camp, they were tossed onto a fire. Lighting up in flames.