15 March 1855

My dearest Eliza,

Thirteen days have passed since your mother and I lost you to the Erinyes River. Thirteen eternal days, but I still hear your bright laughter as if you were standing beside me. I feel your presence in the meadows and woods, the hollows where I build my camps. I speak to you in the stillness of the dark and wonder if you can hear the voice of your beloved father.

Dearest daughter, I have left our home to save you. I have abandoned my darling Gerty, and your brother, John, holding to the highest hope that the conjurings I chased in my youth can serve a happier, more hopeful purpose.

For the task I now undertake—for the terrible things I must surely do—I beg your forgiveness. I beg that you trust me as I take your body from the ground.

Trust your father, dear Eliza, as I go to find your soul. Trust me as I go to pull you from the dark of death. Trust me that I will bring you home.

I promise that you will see your life again. Even if I must perish, you will see it.

Love,
Father