Father,

Something eludes us, and someone – or something – has taken an interest in our work here. We stare bloodshot at these papers, and a voice seems to taunt us to find their secrets. We have used magic again to divine some of the letters, but they swim before our eyes when we try to think about their meaning. I understand the ancient words – but a force from without seems to sand my thoughts down to nothing when I think on them.

The people here are beginning to look at us askance. The sun shines, the flowers bloom, the people laugh, but all quiets when I go outside to see the day.

Surely you have encountered such things in your travels, father. Will you not send a word to your son to comfort him?

Your faithful son