Jeremiah Rhodes's Letter to Martin, delivered a year later

Beloved,

I miss you. I miss you, I miss you, I miss you so! I wish you were here; I am certain that your presence alone would be enough to restore me. Is it not so in all the stories? True love's kiss breaks even the most wicked of spells! My darling, my love, I hunger for your touch; I long for your kiss.

The hospital is lonely and smells of death. Little sunlight through these windows, and what little there is hurts my eyes and slows my senses. These days, sleep is no respite -- my dreams are dark. I have not been honest with you; the nightmares you noticed recently have plagued me for quite some time. I hid them, thinking that time would alleviate their torment, but I was mistaken and [the text here is too messy to be legible].

And beyond that... I am afraid to sleep, wondering if this time -- this slow sink into darkness will be the one from which I cannot rise. I remember us gilded under the rose gold light of the rising sun, banishing the hateful night, and [a couple words here are blotched by tears]. I can hardly imagine the sun now. It is so cold. I miss you, I miss you. If I could have only one more thing, it would be to see you again.

[The entire following paragraph is written with clearly great care to be legible.] But then, my selfishness shows. I wish I could only think of you in these desperate fading moments, but life presses on and time stops for no man. I hope this letter reaches you even if you cannot be here, for I must tell you: do you remember the business deal for which Samuel Jenner hired me? I was to authenticate an old book for a man named Luc Fauche, who was representing interests in Bangkok. He had with him a large man with a beetle tattooed expansively on the back of his right hand. The book, while authentic, was not exactly what they were looking for -- a Liar? Their goals made little sense to a common ear, but I have done my utmost to describe them accurately here. After we had completed our original business, he tried either to kidnap or to kill me, and his man with the beetle tattoo very nearly succeeded in the latter. Perhaps his success has merely not realized itself yet.

I am afraid I do not know much beyond that. And I must make these apologies as fully as possible on paper because I am about to ask you for something very difficult, my beloved.

You must stop him.

I would never ask so dangerous a task of you lightly. Know this, trust me. Luc Fauche shall tear down the world; his zealotry is that of a man whose blood boils with devotion; we are to be but ants beneath his boots. Please, beloved, if I may ask no more of you, let it be that you stop him -- and that [shaky illegible text]. I fear I am not long for this world.

The nurses will come soon. They will insist I drink [a long scribbled line of illegible text; Jeremiah's handwriting is getting worse overall]. All I want is to taste wine on your lips, to press our hands together and entangle my legs with yours. I wish for the sunrise again, and for an end to these dreams. Most of all, I wish for you, you, always you. My days are frail and cold without your warmth; I cannot sleep but dream of you, nor wake but imagine you sitting in the sunlight and shade cast by my bedside. [illegible text] but you give me strength; your love sustains me.

I will wait for you, my beloved.

Yours,

Jeremiah