[Bluebird]

It was within the dead of night, not too long after the events at the Tower.
A local village found itself raided - it's people kidnapped and devoured, leaving naught but the bones and the charred ashes of the village behind them.

A disturbing series of news that carried itself throughout Meranthe, as they would soon find out that would not be the only time it'd happen.
More villages would be dealt the hand of total destruction - yet, for some reason, not all would be devoured as the first was.

Warriors from each major settlement would be sent out to investigate, and for a good while, they struggled to find much of anything.
That is, until they had caught the tail-end of last night's most recent destruction, catching sight of an Ookami fleeing the scene.
As they chased after their would-be assailant, they came across a talisman.

One depicting a Black Wolf with red eyes.
One of these warriors did not make it back from their initial chase, but the survivors held tightly onto the talisman with bloodied hands, recalling the sudden assault by a tall ookami woman with an icy blade; one that seemed to carry a portion of dread and winter with it.

Scholars hurry themselves to figure out what this talisman was, and what the meaning of these sudden raids meant.
The assault on smaller-scale villages would not cease for a while, and those upon Meranthe cannot help but feel something terrible is brewing.

[ EMPORIUM ]

[Bluebird]

The burnings of small towns and the kidnappings have not stopped since they had started. More and more scouts that had been sent out have not been seen in weeks - if not months.
There was a brief moment in which the attacks had slowed down significantly, only to return with a fervor that most would consider borderline insane.

There had only been one survivor noted so far - until now.
A man with a slanted hat, up in his years. And yet, one would question if he was truly going to survive - for the man had stumbled unto Serenity, nearly a bloodied corpse.
He spent time within the medics' care, carefully writing a letter destined for family back home.

My dearest daughter and grandchildren.

Would that the letter I am sending now contain heartfelt greetings and the news of my success.

Unfortunately, I cannot waste time with either - especially the latter.

I have failed in such a grand way that would shame our good family name.

The pack and cult of Saekanis that your father had found before, and similarly fell to, has managed to cause widespread terror amongst Meranthe.

As before, they have started by targetting the settlements and towns that have little to no protection - kidnapping, or outright slaughtering them after the raid is over.

I had thought to follow them, stealthily as possible. Such is the boon of our bloodline - the ability for our footsteps and presence to remain within the shadows.

And yet, such a boon has proven to be my undoing.

Do not get it wrong. I was successful. I had followed after the band of young wolf folk after their last raid, returned unto their designated spot.

But in my effort to gain an understanding of their true numbers and of their leadership so that those of Meranthe may be able to cull this dark spot before it spreads further like an infectious disease, I had forgotten one thing.

Or, perhaps, I had simply desired hope that it was not the one we had seen before leading them.

But it is.

A visage not unlike Asena, you would think this is her given physical form; snow white hair, ice-blue eyes... At first, seemingly logical.

However, that is simply stoicism at work. The second that those eyes lock onto you, the reality of her existence becomes clear.

Saekanis' hunger, his desire for more, his need to devour is amplified within this woman.

What's more - the bloodline of Fenrir, whom we had initially assumed to have successfully culled all living descendants of due to the blood refusing to dilute,

is still

alive.

I had barely got out with my life. But I doubt that by the time you receive this letter,

I will still be breathing. This is due to no fault of Serenity's medical team.

It is because by the time I have managed to send the letter,

she will have killed me, in order to protect the ones she had brought forward.

But I will have outsmarted her.

You will receive two letters.

This one, in which a kind soul from this city will have sent ahead of time,

and the one that will be on my person when she comes to kill me.

That letter does not matter. Writ much like this one, without these last additions of course, to fool them into believing they have stopped this message from reaching you.

But it will.

You must help them.

It matters not if you arrive here within a year, two years, or in a month.

You know, more than anything, what is at stake.

Signed, with love and care,

Silas Fitzgerald.

And so, such was done; this initial letter, given unto a normal, every day townsperson from Serenity. It was sent without much fanfare.

But that night, Silas had left his medical bed. He had hobbled outward, letter held tight in hand; heart racing with every footstep forward.

A messenger bird, reached for--

Only for a blade to make a clean, ice cut across the hand. The injury burned far greater than how it should be, before--
his head rolls off his neck.

The body would be found next morning,
and the letter in his hand, gone.

As if to act out, many of the smaller towns nearest Serenity would begin to be hit hard -- causing an influx of refugees into the main city.
And one would begin to realise --

whatever this precursor was for, it was about to rear it's ugly head.