My Mother's Blade

[Laemor]

Generational Hatred

Given the lack of presence made by the Flame-Herald. It's upon returning from his pilgrimage up the mountains, that a sight, unbecoming... Would be what he found himself arriving to. With both body and letter in tow. 

He responded.
In another's stead.
Instead of letter however?
It had been made by speech.
Hoping, hear-say, would be enough for word to travel across.

Seems a few years away, can only do more harm than better... Regardless, the loss of my mothers image will be felt across the mountain. And although I stand before you all with a face of strength? I feel the weight of choices weighing down upon me... 

Luckily?

The fool, Nikolai Dorco... Isn't someone worth mentioning, less. Worrying about. 

Know!? 

The moment he steps foot on this mountain? It'll be nothing short of him praying my blade doesn't cleave his neck clean off the shoulders. There won't be a body to return, a body to bury. He'll burn in Hel. After he's given a meeting with, Huatl.