Dear Hina Lam

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A letter sent, stained by blood from who knows who. It awaited near a house on the Citadel, eagerly awaiting to be read.

"Dear Hina Lam,

Don't you find it funny? Hilarious? Once I'm close to the power of a god, you come and talk to me?

Pleading for me not to seek revenge.

What a bore, what a pain!

How you dare talk to me about how good they were?

How do you dare tell me what I already know?

Why do you make me remember?

Tell me, if they were so good for you. If you thought of them so dearly.
Why did you kill them? Why?

I hate you. I hate your whole lineage. I don't understand why you sent the letter.

What is the purpose? To try and mock me?

You're pathetic.

And you're scared.

You know, I'm coming for you all. For your son, for your husband.

They deserve death, and that's why you sent the letter. But it won't save them. It will only make their end more satisfying for me. Your fear only fuels my determination to seek vengeance.

. . .

If you want any real response from me.

You don't need to be the one who sends the letter.

He has to send it, you know who I'm talking about. Your pathetic husband.

Until then, worst of lucks.

Libertato Marino."

The letter smelled like blood, an omen of whats to come.

War.