My dearest and angelic Evilyn,

Clearly, these imbeciles are heathens and ingrates. It will be nothing short of a miracle that they do not come to an early demise, and take me with them. To whatever godforsaken afterlife would take them.

However, they speak of the Man in Black. Not since I stepped across the threshold of that forbidden crypt so many years ago have I heard mention of his name. I had thought many times since that fateful day that my exposure to the blistering heat of the dessert had perhaps addled my mind on that journey, and that I had just imagined the ancient glyphs that spoke of the Black Pharaoh.

But he is REAL, my sweetest Evilyn. And I am most assuredly convinced that these uncultured swine will take me to him. I am afraid there will be more knife work to be done, dark deeds done in the dark watches of the night.

But I will unravel this mystery of the Man in Black. Mark my words, my dulcet darling. And then I will return home to you.

Ever and eternally yours,
Craven Nathaniel Stirge