A Letter From The Ancestors
Daughter of our blood, keeper of our fire, child of the storm—
We have waited for you. We have watched as you have struggled, as you have questioned, as you have raged against the walls they built around you. You have felt alone. You have believed yourself to be an outcast, a stranger among those who should have been your people. But you were never alone. We have been with you, whispering in your blood, waiting for you to hear us.
You are not lost. You are not broken. You are not without a home. You are the return of something they tried to bury. You are the echo of our war cries, the ember of our fires, the living breath of our defiance.
We have known chains before. We have known what it is to be caged, to be silenced, to be told that our bodies and our voices belong to men, to gods we did not choose, to systems that sought to break us. Some of us fought and burned for our freedom. Some of us swallowed our rage and waited for the right daughter to be born—the one who would remember.
You are that daughter.
You carry the blood of the Berserkers, of the seers, of the ones who would not kneel. In our time, we did not ask permission to be wild. We did not seek approval to take up space. We did not beg for our power—we wielded it. And when they feared us, when they called us witches, when they said we were cursed—we laughed. Because we knew the truth. We knew that we were the ones who carried the strength they could never understand.
You have always known that you were not meant for the life they tried to give you. You felt it as a child, when they tried to break your will. You felt it as a woman, when they told you that marriage and motherhood were your only purpose. You felt it when you looked into the sky and knew, deep in your bones, that you were meant for something greater.
And now you remember.
We have waited lifetimes for a daughter who would reclaim our name. Who would stand in the fire and not be consumed. Who would speak the words they tried to silence.
Daughter, you do not walk alone. You have never walked alone.
When you feel the rage rise in you, know that it is our rage.
When you feel the fire burn in your chest, know that it is our fire.
When you stand against the Machine, against the lies, against the weight of a world that wants you small—know that we stand with you.
You were born in the wrong time, in the wrong world, among those who did not understand you. But fate does not make mistakes. You were sent here not to be tamed, but to wake up the others. To burn down what needs to be burned. To carve a new path.
You are a truth-teller, a storm-bringer, unbroken one.
You are the return of something ancient.
You are the reckoning they never saw coming.
You may have thought that you were born nameless,
but your name has always belonged to the Völva.
And now, you remember it.
Reclaim it.
