Inside the tent, you find a beautifully embossed envelope that smells like desiccant and the decay of the grave. Against your better judgment, you pry open the ancient seal holding it shut. You’ve been curious since you were a child, and the black wax snaps like a bone in your hand.

Inside the envelope, there is a sheaf of old parchment written in the hand of someone you once lost but can barely remember. It reads:

You are cordially invited to a tale of becoming something worse.

That’s all it says. No more. You feel your fangs growing longer.