Hermien Cloete

They call it a myth - a whisper traded among criminals during sleepless nights and desperate deals. In the shadowed harbour, secrets are carved into skin, and blood is the only currency that matters. A lost container lies hidden beneath the old harbour, sealed by a code no living soul has ever written down. The key was never meant to be found in files or records. It was etched into flesh - a delicate flower tattoo once admired as art, now hunted as a weapon.
Some say the bearer doesn't even know what they carry. Those who do know would kill without hesitation to claim it. A storm is coming. When it breaks, blood will follow. Every flower holds a secret - and this one has already begun to bloom.