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My Dearest Love,
Writing these words instead of talking to you in person is the act of a weak man. A coward. What I shall do after I finish this letter is even more cowardly. I am giving up. I'm leaving the Everfull Flagon.
I fought the pull of the strange enchantment as much as I could, and when I was sober I worked to discover a cure, or at least the source, of our terrible affliction. I wanted to defeat this thing, to see your eyes brighten and your mind clear once and for all.
My heart aches for you, watching you struggle, watching you fight the allure of the mead as I read and researched. We may be close to solving this, but I can't go on.
Is it a weariness of spirit? Is it just a weakness, a character flaw that I can't overcome? I don't know the answer. I only know that I want to run, to try to get free of this place and its insidious spell. I do this knowing that I am leaving you alone. That my soul is lost.
Always remember, dear one, that you are forever in my heart. Remember our love and find a way to make your own escape from the tavern. And, please, try to forgive me. If you can.