Dearest Melodie,

Continue to provoke at your own peril. If one more word comes out of your greasy mouth aimed at me, Amunet or Taraus, you will learn what all of my enemies over last three hundred or so years have learned--Oblivion comes in many forms. If I must, I will cut off your food supply. It would be a slow death to be sure, and I may rot before you wither. Still, I can think of little more fitting.

To Cyrene, perhaps your leaders should think about kicking the cheap wench from your city. Why risk the safety of all of your citizens for a nobody?

Silas Maynard, before you stick your smug nose where it doesn't belong, think long and hard about it my old friend.

Yours,

The honorable Flair Ze'Dekiah, Prophet of Babel, he who unleased the doom of worlds.



Penned by my hand on the 10th of Mayan, in the year 633 AF.