Journal #3

Dearest RK,
 
In Barovia's shadowed streets, the spectral procession unfurling from the church to Castle Ravenloft left an indelible mark on my soul. The ghostly echoes of past adventurers, trapped in a dance of eternal struggle, spoke volumes. Their silent cries, eternally enmeshed in the fabric of Barovia, stirred both empathy and trepidation within me.
 
As I gazed upon the tormented spirits, their figures marching in a melancholic cadence, a shiver ran down my spine. Their fate, a reflection of the futile battles waged against Strahd, resonated deeply. The unending cycle of despair seemed to mirror the struggles of my own quest, a relentless pursuit of justice in a land ensnared by darkness.
Ireena's return was a tumultuous reunion. As she crossed the threshold into the mansion, my heart brimmed with both relief and scepticism. The foreboding tales of vampiric curses haunted my thoughts, yet the sanctity of the threshold provided a tenuous reassurance—the promise of humanity retained.
 
However, later in the day took a macabre turn as Vimak's lifeless form sprawled eerily on our path. The shock of seeing him in such a state, Vimak, once a brave companion from the war, now lay in the embrace of death, a cruel reminder of the perils that envelop us in this cursed land.
 
The missing Vistani girl, cast shadows of doubt in my mind at those who asked for aid. Luvash and Arrigal, kin to the missing child, raised my suspicions. I questioned not just the disappearance but the very parenting within the Vistani fold. The irony of trusting those whose familial ties seemed fraught with potential deception weighed heavily on my conscience.
We interrogated the fisherman, a drunken fool tangled in misguided superstition, for the kidnapping of the Arabella. I was angered from that fool’s misjudgement in believing in childish fables, He quivered beneath the weight of our judgement and intimidation. The revelation of his atrocious act, sacrificing Arabelle to the lake's whims, tested the limits of my faith in the goodness that might yet linger in the hearts of Barovia's denizens.
 
The fisherman begged for his life, offering information instead of facing the Vistani. With the promise we never intended on keeping we were able to extract small amounts of information of a tower's presence overlooking Lake Baratok.
We returned the fisherman to the Vistani, after having all information he could provide us. The Vistani were grateful for the return of Arabella alive and her captive. yet, even in their gestures of thanks, Barovia's twisted reality echoed. The Vistani's potions, a promised key to escape, crumbled like illusions. Arrigal's revealed that such potions were nothing more than lies, a candid admission of their economic necessity.
 
Yet another part of hope crushed under the pressure of this unforgiving realm.
 
In Your Light,
Ankha