Dear Jameson,

I write to you no longer to give advice.  I suspect I shall be dead soon, and when you one day receive these letters, you shall at least know why.  The nature of the gypsy curse has made itself known.  A wolf.  At night, I become a wolf to slaughter everything in my path during each full moon.  Magda.  Kill her Jameson.  You’re a man, now.  Kill her.  If she puts this curse on others, she’s doing nothing but creating an army of savages.  I took one life, yes.  How many lives will the wolf take?  And am I responsible or is Magda?

Kill her.  And enjoy the fear in her eyes as you do.



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