My dearest Liddell Alice,
I thought I sought you in vain. So it went on for months. Many times It occurred to me I should simply take a sabbatical from my current quest and employ all my considerable skill as a detective to find you, but the horrible notion that I may simply find your remains — the alternative seemed too much to bare. I was most unwilling to be robbed of you again, and also afraid of risking the loss of any remainder of my tenuous sanity.
But I have found you, sweet child of mine. Sweet sweet sister. I shall stop at nothing to ensure your safety, though all the hosts of heaven and the vile hordes of hell stand against it. I shall climb the tallest mount and appeal to the very gods themselves for your return.
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter’d visage lies, whose frown
And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamp’d on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock’d them and the heart that fed.
And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains: round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Your loving brother, Duada.