My Dear Bel, I wish I could report this is the end of times, but unfortunately it seems to be just the beginning.

I have long meditated on how I got here, and how you there. Alone without hope, without championship, without the specter of escape.

All I can figure is I am the brunt of some cosmic joke, a high conspiracy designed by some sick and tormented soul that draws its only pleasure through my suffering.

If I had the power I would make them pay, I would have them live one day here, in this hell, in my stead. For surely, one day would be all it takes to break the most resolute. One day would be my revenge.

Now, if you will excuse me, and possibly forgive me, I have plans to conjure.

I look forward to seeing you. It will be my one solace in this life. An hour with you, be it asking too much, is all that’s left to hope for.