Eternal Dajemma - Vasya Sarukina

[Cursed]

I now know I shall not again find Uuthrakt or the village once more. Rashemen was distant and Thay even more distant. No longer her property, apprentice, or test subject I find myself uncomfortably alone without direction. It is lonely to be with my thoughts. Without the guidance of someone who makes decisions for me is a strange sensation. This is what freedom is called I wonder? It is a frightening prospect. My family said I was born cursed. I am a product of their sins manifested into flesh. Sin would come naturally to me or perhaps I would sin because I have been led to believe that it is pointless to change? I do not know. I do not like writing 'I do not know'. I desire to know all. I have a compulsion to sate, a void to fill. Coveting knowledge is in my blood and in my faith. I do not know what this uncertain path will bring, but I know I have a choice in my destiny. My journey has begun.

Therefore I choose to write onto here principles I shall live by.

I shall never speak the full truth of my past.

I shall gather knowledge and truth from all.

I shall use the truth to enlighten others.

I shall repay loyalty to me with loyalty in turn.

I shall not betray the secrets of those I know.

I shall not harm those who pose me no threat.

I shall choose my path and never relinquish freedom.

[Cursed]

Hazlan Travelogue Draft
Vasya Sarukina

Foreword

I've had time to study the land of Hazlan in greater detail. I feel akin to a tourist who has gotten a little too deep in my immersion in this tyrannical, horrible land. The Rashemi serfs look and feel like the people of my homeland but I had to learn the language from a kind Vaasi man who naively served the Church of the Lawgiver and its potential virtues. Yet, the truth is clear to those who spend enough time in the semi-arid land where the Mulan minority reign over my kin in this land. References to Thay and Rashemen are widespread but subdued. I heard mention of the Mulan homeland which makes me wonder if this means Thay or perhaps even Mulhorand. When I spoke of Rashemen in secret to some of my kin, it was regarded as semi-legendary and distant but it had been remembered even only in the part that it is the old homeland. This means both groups are strangers to Hazlan and had come from afar to the Core in settling it before the current state of affairs.

Culture of Hazlan

The people of Hazlan differ markedly from many other realms of the Core. The oppressive air is comparable to that of Barovia with menacing bodyguards carrying whips being commonplace. This is contrasted by the dens of pleasure where hookah and opium is consumed in lounges, bazaars, and back-alley establishments. Rashemi serfs work day in and day out with only a minority enjoying the fruits of leisure and pleasure among those fortunate enough to be merchants or burghers in cities to live a life remotely similar to their Mulan counterparts. Hazlan is land of two dominant peoples the Mulan and Rashemi with a notable village of Forfarians in Forfarmax which is likely the only notable Forfarian-lived settlement other than Immol in Barovia.

Hazlani literature and stories are prominent about stories of the warrior kings of old in Mulani tradition. Although many works of literature and poetry can be found in Toyalis and Sly-Var, oral tradition is powerful and no more evident than in shadow puppetry shown both in public or in theatres dedicated to the work including a notable establishment in Ramulai. Many stories tell of the old glories of Mulani warrior kings, mythological creatures being defeated by heroic people, unironically, resisting tyranny, and the end of paganism and Myterri.

Hazlani food and drink differ significantly from that of its neighbor in Barovia where plum brandy is readily had. Among the Rashemi in particular boza, a drink made of wheat berries, is popular as a strong beverage. Garlicky is a popular soup for hangovers caused by hangovers. Other common dishes included dolma, stuffed vegetables, and kebab, various meats mixed together. Although coffee is enjoyed by many, tea is far more commonplace. Another popular dish among the Mulani is çorba, a rice based dish. Many Pharazian spices enter Hazlan from the south and has a left an indelible mark on Hazlani cuisine and dishes that are influenced by spices of the Amber Wastes. A popular dish imported from Nova Vaasa is flæskesteg, which is a heavy pork-based dinner.

The People of Hazlan

The denizens of Hazlan compose of the Mulan ruling minority who enjoy privileges and wealth off the back of Rashemi serfs and demi-human slaves of those who trespassed or committed crimes to be taken in chains. The Mulan are traditional people who reinforce their control by using the Iron Faith of Nova Vaasa to their advantage in establishing Mulan superiority. It is perhaps a little amusing they are placed above and recognized as superior to the Vaasans who introduced them to the faith in the first place. The Mulan are often taller than the Rashemi and slimmer as well as traditional in shaving their scalps much like the Mulan of Thay. Lord Hazlik the Red Wizard is Mulan, however, despite the caste-like system between Mulan, Vaasan, foreigner (apparently above Rashemi), Rashemi, and slaves there is unique social mobility for foreigners and Rashemi to be legally Mulan should they be accepted into Hazlik's Red Academy. Such social mobility for the Rashemi or foreigners is undoubtedly looked upon with utter disdain by the Mulan who value their position atop the Hazlani hierarchy. It is also rather interesting to witness local Vaasan clergy accept the supremacy of the Mulan considering the Lawgiver faith is Vaasicentric and the history of the faith is about Old Vaasa and the Vaasi nation, but the passing of faith and language has given significant influences of Vaasan culture to diffuse into Mulani society.

The Rashemani of the land are largely placid and roughly outnumber the Mulan ten to one. They are virtually identical to those of Rashemen physically, but years of servitude have left an indelible mark on the physique of the people here as subservient and meek. Most of the production of the land as well as physical security of the land is accomplished by the Rashemi under the direction and orders of the Mulan. Many household guards are Rashemi who carry whips quite evidently to use them on lesser positioned Rashemi who cause offense. Rashemi can gain some measure of autonomy depending on the disposition of their Mulan landowners and rulers but without fail their marriages are not recognized and tyrants abuse and use them for their own twisted pleasures despite the dogma of the Lawgiver regarding the rejection of unequal persons. It is little wonder a small, but persistent rebellion among the Rashemi exist to oppose the rule of the Mulan. Although, given what is known about the rebellion I cannot help but suspect the rebellion is also a tool of control. A theory of mine is that Lord Hazlik for instance could utilize such a revolt in order to keep his subordinate Mulan in line and that might lie in perhaps why the rebellion has not been fully stamped out, yet.

Erroneously known as the Red Wizards abroad, for only Hazlik is referred to as the Red Wizard in Hazlan's borders, the people of the Red Academy are largely Mulan with some privileged Rashemi and foreigners accepted into its halls.  Uniquely in the ethnic system of Hazlan, all wizards of the academy are legally Mulan and therefore it is one of the rare ways a Rashemi can rise in status which muddies the question of hierarchy and what privileges they have in the eys of the Church of the Lawgiver. The Rashemi of the academy are largely seen as traitors by the resentful Rashemi who rebel against Hazlik's authority and they are hated by the Mulan who value their position in society, therefore making them loyal only to the man who has given them their current privileges. It is even said several of the wizards do not care for the faith of the Lawgiver and some of them view themselves as gods or even worship otherworldly gods. There is gossip regarding the potential treachery of those who rise too far as a few former apprentices became notorious in other lands of Barovia and Dementlieu such as Halvor Hadiya or Nasir Razthelyk. Notable graduates of the academy include the Vraylock Helenah Kerpatis and Lady Eleni of Toyalis.

The Faith of Hazlan

Hazlan has a strict system of rules that colors its way of life. However, it has significant influence in being a location where modest proselytizing efforts are sent from the Hazlani border into Immol and other villages of Barovia. The Church of the Lawgiver tells about the creation of the world and on human supremacy based on sin. Demi-humans or humans with inhumane marks are physical bearers of the sin of their forefathers before them. Most of those who are not of divine-human blood are slaves.

The strict Church hierarchy gives way to endemic corruption as those in positions of power regularly abuse their authority which cannot be questioned by those below them but only by those placed above them. Those who are in a position of authority are granted the Lawgiver's blessing to rule as one sees fit until someone above deems this mandate subverted for personal gain or blasphemy. On remarking on the Church's similarity to that of the worship of Bane, I was lambasted for speaking god's name aloud to my own surprise. It does indeed have some parallels to Banite doctrine in some respects, but the emphasis on human supremacy and Vaasi superiority makes it a unique faith that may pay homage to the very same tyrannical god.

The Iron Faith has a rather daunting task ahead of them as by doctrine Myterri is rebellionn as it is evil. Arcane magic is considered blasphemy by the Church of Nova Vaasa. However, matters differ in Hazlan and opinions given differ depending on clergy in Hazlan. Some assert the Vaasan viewpoint while others consider it more so a 'gateway' to Myterri if left unchecked and therefore this gives leeway enough to consider those of the academy to not be of Myterri, but it is very likely they will fall prey to Myterri given their practices. This exceptional policy may be a source of conflict in the Church, but existentially it is likely those who loyally serve Hazlik will be grudgingly tolerated for the time being by higher church authorities in Hazlan. I foresee some practical acceptance of magical use through regulation and a scrutinizing gaze from the clergy of those who would follow the footsteps of wizards who would defy the order of Hazlan.

The History of Hazlan

There are not many resources about the past of Hazlan prior to the rule of Lord Hazlik. However, the rulers of old are often left nameless as it appears to be an iron tradition to ensure past rulers are forgotten in name so that the glories of current rulers remain unchallenged. In 714 BC Lord Hazlik came to rule this land following years of intrigue and fighting between powerful Mulan houses of uncertain origin in a period known as the Years of the Tattered Banners.

A nameless King once ruled before Hazlik, but his name is lost to time and conflict. Under Hazlik's early rule consisted of prescribing the use of arcane magic and the conversion of Hazlan to the faith of the Lawgiver which in turn attempted to spread with moderate success toward Immol in Barovia. In the Summer of 740 Hazlik permits the study of arcane magic and opens the Red Academy in Ramulai which he created out of the earth in a single day.

[Cursed]

I have learned ever so much in the past month. The Core and its endless possibilities fascinate me ever so. The Barovian people were unsurprisingly unwelcoming as my own kindred were at the sight of me in Rashemen. Yet, my fellow outsiders were almost universally kind and understanding. It was an extraordinary sensation. I could let down my guard a little, and it was a little strange to be treated as a person after spending my entire life as property. But, so much happened in the blink of an eye, and there is so much more to come.

I met many who told me more about the Core and its people. A man named Aeric saved me from a werewolf about to chomp me into pieces. Siasobek wrote me a letter for employment. I met Morten and Marcus took me to Hazlan, where I began to work as a pretend bodyguard. Curiously the Rashemi people did look like my kindred from home, and on mention of Rashemen, it was referred in a manner I would only consider as semi-legendary. The great game of pretending began. It had sounded like a good place to learn. I was certain that Marcus was a good man, and despite how dreary Hazlan seemed, there was a boundless opportunity for me to learn more of the Core and study magic.

I was far, far too enthusiastic, and perhaps my childlike glee was too much. I watched flagellations, murders, and severe punishment for others. My strange features were pointed out, and I was derisively labeled 'Caliban.' There was confusion about my status as free or a slave due to my inhuman traits, and I realized my liberty was in constant peril. I sought to redouble my illusion as a bodyguard with the pistol Stella had given me, but I did not expect what was to come. What had turned into a hunt for scrags turned into a hunt for the rebels. Never had I taken another's life until pushed. I was reluctant to take human life, it seemed wrong. They told me that the rebels were rabid dogs of Myterri and nothing more. They were right that I would have stood by if they attacked Marcus. I felt so helpless, ashamed, and vulnerable under their scrutinizing gaze. I was nothing, and I could end up like these wretched ones. I killed three and scalped twenty. I failed Marcus and myself. I resolved never to feel so weak ever again.

After tasting freedom I realized, I would never give it up even unto death. Without Marcus's patronage, I quickly realized that if something were to befall him, I might be at the mercy of the Church-run by one who despised my strangeness and was not shy to show his eagerness to take me as a servant or slave. The sane choice would be to leave Halzan forever.

Curiosity over caution. My study was incomplete. My insatiable thirst for knowledge and relics had to be sated, yet also, what of my friends who risk becoming enslaved once more? I feel there will be a cost to my soul, but the risk is worthy of the endeavor on my quest for self-realization.

So, I remain.

[Cursed]

It worked! It worked! I am a genius! I had second thoughts and doubts, but after taking this new substance called Needle I forgot my worries and I knew I could complete the procedure in full. The subject was a slave that was likely meant for fireball testing in a manner that saved him from an ignoble and wasteful fate. His life was fully in my hands. I promised him his freedom following the magical and surgical procedure that would forever change our lives.

I provided anesthesia from Port-a-Lucine to ensure he felt no pain. He lost consciousness before his inferior eyes were removed and stored away for a future transplant when necessary. After the conjuring, we acquired the eyes of the devil and subdued the mischievous creature before it could disturb my work. It was then my remedial training in surgery complemented with the high of the substance and my magical aid we were able to successfully apply the eyes into the sleeping subject and attach the nerves properly. Yet, the tissue rejected the fiendish eyes. We realized, quickly there needed a symbiosis and a transfusion of fiendish blood. It was then I realized he needed my blood!

After a quick transfusion, the eyes no longer were being rejected. The patient was soon awake, unsurprisingly he felt pain from the procedure in his eyes for which a daily dose of red tears was recommended from me for a week's time. But, he could see! He was alive! He was going to be free! Perhaps In time, I could write ethical regulations to ensure test subjects are not wasted and unnecessary pain is eliminated in the bowels of the Tables. I was told I was wasting my time and my heart was 'soft' time and again to an annoying extent...

I felt so elated to perform my procedure without the characteristic madness and sadism of others in this place of nightmares. I took care to ensure he felt no pain, I had prepared to revive him should he perish because I care. Now we have proof of concept and we can improve others' lives with my efforts. Yet, the words of the now freed patient haunt me, but why?

"But, why?" He said to me. He questioned why we even did this procedure. Didn't he see I took proper care to ensure he was not in pain? That he would not die? That he would be given his freedom from being a test subject forever? That he would be better than any ordinary human? His eyes were as effective as my own fiendish pair that could see in the darkness and perhaps his own were better in seeing through magical darkness...

As the substance faded, my doubts returned. But, wasn't this a triumph? A success? I made him better didn't I? I did it the most ethical way possible. Am I wrong?

[Cursed]

It hurts. The nightmare became a reality so quickly, despite the Fane's reassurances and words. They were all lies, all to lure me in and tear me apart like the freakI am. I thought the Academy would bestow me protection from cruelties meant for slaves or servants, but as the phantom pains persist I realize how so wrong I was in this degenerate land of cruelty. It does not matter how subservient and benign I behave or if I were to choose the inflict the worst cruelties, to hire the worst brutes to kill those who have wronged me. I will always be the degenerate in their eyes regardless of the color of my robes.

 The nightmarish cell with the miasma of despair and the scrutinous eyes of judgment upon me. Not for any crime, I had done, but simply by having the audacity to exist whether I served or whether I rebelled. The lies of the Iron Paradise were a thin veneer of control they didn't care if I wanted to save my soul or not or if the Academy delighted in my project's results that served Hazlik. I thought as a direct servant of Hazlik I would gain status. I did not think to use it to be cruel but to keep cruelty at bay. I realize how naive I've been and the cruelties I must inflict on others to gain this respect and distance. I had thought I was going to die in that hole. I could barely think of escape much less understand what the Academy shouted at the Vaasan zealots as Livny and the instructor dragged me to safety. In my pain, I could see the people who cared about a freak like me. Fariha saw to my health and Dilara said she would protect me.

I wanted nothing more than to escape to the drug dens to forget it all. Sannish. Needle. Joy. The nightmares keep me from rest without the aid of poppy and never want to return to Hazlan. Yet, I cannot abandon the few people who showed me humanity. Marcus protected me even at his own risk and I shall never forget it. I am an undeserving of pity as a red apprentice and, yet, perhaps I can make it slightly less wretched and learn something of importance. I can help them against the yoke of tyranny and use what I learned to free even one soul.

[Cursed]

Sometimes, I reflect in a mirror and stare. Who am I looking at at this hour? I am a thief. I'm a scoundrel. I am an awkward friend. I am a degenerate wizard of the Red Academy. I am a demon-spawn wretch. I am a scared boy looking to escape myself. Sometimes I get dizzy and think if I will fall through the world straight into Hell.

I false-face and wear a mask to all I entreat. Can a creature like me live on my own path, or am I damned by my blood to foulness and evil? I told myself self-delusional lies that I lie and cheat for self-preservation, but deep within, I feel the giddy sensation when I've lied and cheated. I revel in the game of hiding who I am and not letting people look into my soul, but why do I sob when I am alone? I ask myself this question even when I suspect the answer. I hate being false, I hate hiding, and I loathe myself. Yet, as a seeker of truth in other people, I pause to speak truths of myself. Ironic as one who proclaims a journey of self-discovery who hides who he is from everyone he seeks, including himself. I deny myself to others when I ask them to give me the truth of theirs. I wear many masks safe from discovery, but deep within, I want to be discovered and laid bare for all of my falsehoods.

When Clementine asked me to write a will for family or friends to take my belongings when I am gone, I froze and realized I struggled to think of anyone that dear to me or any who would even consider the same of me. When I hide my spirit from others, how could I ever truly come to know them when I seek to understand the whole world and its people? I can see past the masks of others in the City of Lights, but that means little when it is merely another layer of deception beneath. I know this because I am playing the same game. I fuss over my lack of humanity, worried how others will hate me upon discovery.

Now I realize the fetters and chains I wear I put on myself are made by the very the lies I shrouded myself in. I can see the truth is the only way to be truly free. But, when will I be ready?

[Cursed]

I must write before my strength fades. The illness from which Eleni inflicted on me weakens me as I hold this quill. I noticed I only write of my heart when I feel anguish. Anguish was also when I chose to paint or sketch to keep my mind busy from the world's troubles; writing is my escape from the pains of reality. It has only been three weeks since my last entry, yet it feels like it was a year given all that has happened. I began to remove the chains from me, removing the masks of lies I've worn to those dear to me, and I expected rebuke after rebuke. Yet, they remained and gave me their pitying gaze. Was I worthy of their emotions? Was I unwittingly manipulating them as my fiendish blood compels me to do? I thought I feared other people, yet, when I drank from that wine my Zherisian friend offered, I found myself confessing. I was afraid of myself. I feared the evil I was capable of bringing.

Confession and after confession, the chains began to fall off, and I could feel their weight lifting. It felt good to be honest and genuine. I always thought it would be painful and filled with regret, rebuke from those I've come to know near and dear to my heart. As I began to feel comfortable at last, I noticed a noble lady I'd never met leer at me. It would not be long before I realized she delivered a report to the Gendarmerie. I knew the source, but it didn't make sense in the slightest. I felt panic as I thought she would take my second chance of living free from me. Why did she gossip about me? Did I wrong her? Did she gain for it? I panicked. Was my freedom about to end once again?

I felt awakened by the beautiful, noble lady who had come to show me affection beyond mere lustful desire. I held her hand in mine, and my anxieties died in my chest. "It's going to be alright," she said as I fussed. Living life as property and a slave who was beaten, tortured, and my own self-loathing made it hard to accept I could be a real person with my own life in this strange 'civilized' place.

At first, I did not return her affections, mistaking them for friendliness. I had intimate encounters before, but I began to wonder if this was different. I began to feel guilt, given the weight of my sins. When my fellow false-facer told me to come clean, I was skeptical, but I found myself speaking. I could feel the chains fall, and my sense of vulnerability rose. Safe, out of sight, I began to share the burdens of my soul. A part of me hoped she would reject me and end her advances. Who would ever want to be in love with a fiend? Who would ever love one who has done such wrong as I? When I shared all of my sins, she was still there. Instead of turning away, she held my hand, and I felt relieved just as the slaad began to consume me from within. I squeezed her hand, and I did not want to let go.

[Cursed]

It's finally over. Whatever Eleni's declared intent of the Mulani race she declared and the foul experimentations taken in that infernal institution no longer matter to me. I am free at last, and may those of that institution wisen up and flee or perish at the hands of their cruelties. My desire for revenge has tempered, and the temptations Eleni gave me turned to ash the moment she decided it was wise to inflict her torture upon me. It became clear there was no merit in embracing their cruel ways and no temptation to remain in the hellscape I haughtily felt I could steal from for my avaricious desire for knowledge. A small part of me pities Marcus for trying to be a human in a land of demons, but the only salvation Hazlan has is if the Rashemani rise up and murder his people and slay the monsters who give their sermons in the Fanes. Unfortunately, I fear it may go the way of Beast of Ehrendton, where the heroes will perish at the claws of the beast. So I've absconded fully to the enlightened lands of the west where instead of barbed whips, I faced dismissive scoffs—a welcome change of pace, to be sure.

I've become increasingly honest with those whose companies I've come to enjoy, peeling back the layers of masks that I've used as my shield from the scrutinous stare of those who would seek to erase me or act as a harbinger of my ruin. I quickly realize as I've given up the abuse of substances and the gentle company I've kept, I've become rapidly integrated into a strange, stuffy society without fanfare or causing discord with my undoubtedly peculiar presence. I feel more at home with these people of high culture and academia than I do for those who frequent the Colibri.

At times I find myself in surreal awe at the progress made. The days of worrying over surviving the next sunrise are over. I've vigorously pursued my studies and hobbies in the City of Lights, and notably, my sketches have been far more positive in spirit than the energy of despair I have put into them. With immediate studies concluded once more, the ample time and freedom I have devoted to my research and analysis of scholarly works have increased dramatically. I must also think of a worthy gift for Her. Yet, this former slave is left to wonder if this is what life is truly like here? I am unsure if it is guilt for my successor a sense of gratefulness that I have decided I shall do my utmost to assist others in my scholarly pursuits.

I do know on this night I shall rest soundly without fear.

[Cursed]

I've awakened from the dream. I never expected to feel such anguish and be stirred back into the world's harsh reality once again. Was I living for myself, or was I living for another? I had never experienced genuine affection for others before I entered this 'civilized' realm. I learned the range of emotions I never thought I had before. I have begun to understand human emotion and reason far more than I ever did before as a servant and a slave. I have grown, and I am now better prepared to study them in the treatment of my patients to come. Yet, I still heard murmurs of my misdeeds, of my foulness, and those voices spoke to me louder than the reassurances of those close. But, it mattered little, and I saw where the path continued and took another course. I had strived to be better, to change away from my wicked ways, yet, I understand now I engaged in self-delusion. I was afraid of myself and what I could achieve.

 In reflection, I am as covetous as my fiendish progenitor. The quest of knowledge is a journey taken with the desire to understand the cosmos. The yugoloth plays both sides and manipulates the fates of not only mortals, but even the immortal fiends that surround us. The inner debate on intrinsic evil in my blood and soul or bias into its inevitably always played out in my mind. Recently, I have begun to think I have fought against my inner nature. I have seen the power that others can use empathy and care for others to weaken me, to be used against me. Robine's words rang in my ears. Survival and continuation are essential. There is no place for grudges or conflict when it can be avoided. We must adapt and persist forward. How foolish was I to attempt to claim moral superiority? I have come to admire Hargreaves' adaptability and cunning. We have far more in common than I gave credit. I cannot begrudge a fellow liar and seeker of power.

Doctor Daclaud Heinfoth was ingenious in his research on using magic in therapy. He and Dr Gregorian Ilhousen have touched upon fundamental cornerstones on the study of the mind. There is great power in studying the shadow of people's minds in dreams—their desires, ambitions, fears, and worries. However, hypnotism alone does not guarantee success, and the utilization of the arcane can elicit feelings when they are deep in one's subconscious mind. The Art can be utilized like a surgical tool to cut and mend the mind where necessary. Those who have suffered trauma are not without recourse, and my research can help them overcome them. The trauma can be reduced, or a fond memory can be adjusted to help a patient cope with loss and pain. I have begun to consider the utility of my research with that of Camus's high alchemy. If the perfect body can be made through alchemy as a result of changing not only the body but the soul, then my work can mend even the most broken mind.

The veterans of Ameranthe who have been isolated in the asylum are strong bodies and could be made to their physical peak. Not only so, but if their minds were mended, they could prove to be productive members of society. The possibilities are endless, and I ponder what Maitre Drukker would think of the possibilities of such. The state only has to gain from such an endeavour.

The Shining Star

Results speak for themselves when I saw my patient's emotions elicitation. It is in the early stages, but I suspect there will be notable progress by session three. The patient suffered as a result of her daring pursuits. My colleagues took measures to prevent her escape, but the Imp saw the reason for my work and the promising results that could come from it. The patient was filled with hope, confidence, and a desire to have her star shine brightest. I have yet to adjust the patient's memories as the delicate mind surgery requires scrutiny and care to help her overcome her inner self-doubt and sustained trauma. The beginning results are rudimentary but promising. I want those under my care to believe in themselves, and they shall shine brightly in their paths, and it will be me they remember who has set them in their course to greatness. Her self-doubt and fear of others not recognizing her genius are understandable.

I cannot help but feel my efforts are being observed, and I ponder if they approve. Early results are promising and we have only begun.

[Cursed]

The Chained Judge.

This patient is firm in beliefs and principles. The oaths taken are not easy and lightly taken, and the environment in Port-a-Lucine has made it even harder. Yet, it seems there is an underlying anger and belief there is great injustice there. I informed the patient they are right to have their righteous ideals. The injustice of the world is hard to bear,  but he is capable of overcoming it and with my help, they shall ensure those responsible are felled. I began to learn more about their past and their efforts in the city and there is a clear vendetta against the one who has escaped the law and used such law as a shield. The patient is bold, yet, also humble. They have seen great evils and they question the good nature of others indicating an increased cynicism despite the path taken. There is a weariness, but they shall break before they bend. The patient lashed out at me during the trance and thought me as the one who harmed their friend one named Jean. The patient struck me in the jaw as the trance was framed as the perpetrator was going to escape and get out of their foul machinations. The patient has felt great loss, has lost their original home beyond the Mists and is genuine in selfless service to those around them. I hesitate to manipulate the memories as the consequences could lead the patient into a berserk rage to kill those perceived to help the illusive puppet master. I have many questions on who Jean and the Puppet Master are, but I shall learn in due time. There is much more to know about the patient's past that is curious to know.

I cannot help but feel a desire to protect such a rare specimen from the darkness of the world. Perhaps this one shall not be altered further. This patient is an excellent soul who desperately needs one to listen.

I shall lend my ear and understand.

[Cursed]

I reviewed my notes and I could not believe what I was hearing. An arcanaloth had surfaced and it was taking the souls of others in its path. After Lady Eleni elucidated my origins, I have grown increasingly fascinated by the creatures that spawned my peculiar bloodline. Now that I have been formally recognized as a Doctor of Medicine in the Serene Republic I can look back into my study here. These covetous seekers of knowledge and arcana are surly creatures that desire knowledge and to correct mortals beyond all measure. Perhaps it is little wonder I am a scholar and an arcanist in my own right. I ponder if my work in enchanting and utilising suggestion upon others is a comfort derived from something deep within my very own nature, or perhaps I have merely biased myself to think so low of myself. It matters little, for I must seek the answers above. I wonder who it is who has led to the cosmic mistake that is my creation. I have been given a name. Inajira I wonder if this creature knows which of his ilk have led to my lineage and how an encounter might end up should I find myself in his presence. Would he see me merely as another mortal petitioner to rob me of my soul or would there be something more complicated, yet, insidious that remains in such an evil mind. Despite the danger, my curiosity and nosiness is stronger than my cowardice and self-preservation.

Nevertheless, I must take precaution as who will care for my dear patients if I were to make a foolish mistake? Patience shall persevere for now. I shall have the answers I seek and soon.

The Soul of Sorrow

This patient has a mournful mien that characterizes many Barovians, yet, his elven origins complicate the picture. It isn't the Barovian within that the sorrow comes from, but the Sithican ancestry that flows in his veins. He has taken the admirable pursuit of knowledge and like a kindred spirit he seeks to fully understand the origins that have caused him such anguish in his life. He furiously studies his mother's people and he has been abused by those he subordinated himself before. He will never be good enough for them and therefore he is doomed to being a lesser in both worlds he has set foot in. His angst is relatable to a spawn of hell such as I, but, he has not let the cruelty of his upbringing take him down a darker path. He has good friends who support him in the library and it was them who brought this patient to my doorstep. I have forced him to face his despair once again, to face the traumatic memories that have haunted him in his youth, but within there a glimmer of hope has been imprinted through my methods. A part of me began to feel reluctance to conduct the final step of the first session's treatment, but, my research demands I pursue it to its natural conclusion. The patient's life is hauntingly similar in its themes to my own, perhaps I might be more similar if I had not embraced the fiend's blood within. The elves have rejected him, but, it is they who are the fools and he will show them he will not bow to their curse of misery. His soul shall fight against its nature and it shall be painful, but the journey shall be worth it.

He may even be the key to increased scholarship in this wretched part of the Core and he shall have my guidance.

[Cursed]

I lapsed again into the despair of damnation and cynicism of inevitability. It is what those below desired to see in me. I made such progress toward self-betterment, yet, I used the strings that allowed me entry back into the hellish bowels of the Academy to pull me back in. I did so initially to spy on them for my friends and the Gendarmerie. In a twisted sense, it was what the Academy expected me to do so long as I remained useful and once again, my work was not rewarded aside from a warning not to contact a fiend who likely knew my origins. It was a trap, and the arcanaloth would lie and weave his web around me just as I did to others myself. A part of me wanted to allow it to come to pass just so I would have an answer, even if incomplete and distorted with half-truths. I realized I was drowning in my lies and half-truths that it felt painful to answer truthfully once more. IT SEEMED INCREASINGLY WRONG when I learned of those twisted pages of shadow and my possible ancestor's actions. The fiend showed no interest in academic subjects or the cosmos, but it was single-minded in its pursuit of petty revenge and on a specific book, perhaps a book of keeping it misplaced. A senile and wretched example of its race. I was fortunate this was so.

The conflict and guilt within began to wrack me to the madness once again. I left the Academy's halls for the final time. The information I could give to Stella or Dorian was not worth the pain inflicted on the soul. I began to feel the judging eyes beyond my actions. My curiosity led me again astray to the path of damnation. I sought out my oldest acquaintance and friend Gianna once more. A fellow travelling scholar who I sensed had the same spirit as I and her own dark, guilt-ridden past to overcome. Perhaps we were both escaping our prior sins in a never-ending journey to seek the world's secrets and gaze upon our portraits, and see what looked back. I could see the wicked teeth, reddened eyes, and horns upon my own as it twisted further and further into a daemon the more I transgressed.

The cards truly broke my spirit and my good sense. I realized I had plenty to lose, and it was only my insatiable curiosity and disregarding the past principles that led me back to Hell. With the eyes of my dear friends and my beloved on me, I begged Ezra for salvation beneath her stained mirror. I deserved none of her pity, and I laid to bare my heart and wrongs. In front of Cornelius and Stella, I confessed my influence over my patients. I confessed to Gianna my actions within the Academy-like experiments in the Asylum and my greed for knowledge. I realized my work was being utilized by greater evils beyond my own, like an Imp handing off souls to his superiors. My comeuppance was losing my mind and gaining nought for my addiction to forbidden knowledge. I was prepared to face my end until I heard her voice. "Open your eyes, Vasya," an unfamiliar voice said to me before the mirror. I could feel the fog lifting and the lack of judgment from those who cared for my being despite my damning words. I was undeserving of this mercy. I was alive and given a new chance.

Now is the time to unravel my works.

[Cursed]

In the City of Lights there are many sleepwalkers.

They drift from task to obligation not because they desire it or it helps them realize their dreams, but they move on the whims of others' power. Lives and routines ultimately hold little true meaning for themselves as the part is played. One can see that the city streets boast a larger venue for acting than the Jalabert Theatre. Each plays their role, eyes closed and asleep. For some it is because they have not the power to wake up but others fear the consequences of showing what they truly dream. The lucid dreamer.

It is those who dream lucidly who thrive and find meaning in this orderly concert and there are so many people who could use a small push to make their unanswered dreams reality. I realized that I had backed away from my own dreams and drifted asleep as I averted the gaze of others to my passions. I began to shunned my work, but, I realize there is no crime in wishing to understand the world. To understand the lives of others through the eyes of others. The trials I faced in recent months were only tests of fortitude in my quest to understand humanity through the eyes of patients in their own struggles.

There is nothing wrong in what I do in the name of greater understanding and none of it is forbidden nor was I wrong in my pursuit. Ezra loves me. But, my methods must adapt. Overt control in the dreamer was my mistake. It's only natural the repressed soul expresses itself in violence. I realized in the life of no control over my fate, I controlled theirs too strongly. I see now I can awaken them with a guiding hand. My gift is to awaken the dreamer and remove these self-imposed shackles.

It's Time to wake up.

[Cursed]

Leaves in the Night

The Mulan folk, like ivy upon a wall,
Boast of their ancestry, standing tall.
Their tales pass down, a legacy bright,
A shining torch that guides them through the night.

But as the new blood come to be,
They rest on laurels, carefree.
Forgetting all the battles fought,
They bask in luxury and do not give a thought.

To the servants who tend the earth,
Whose toil and sweat provide their wealth.
These saplings, all tales they've heard,
Yet they bear no fruit, they've not been spurred.

Do they recall their forebear's strife?
The battles won, the foes of life?
She whispers of the Coming day,
And the Church remains in crumbling array.

But we look to the future, not to the past,
Our eyes on the horizon, forever steadfast.
For in a world where deeds are all that's right,
Pride will crumble, like leaves in the night.