I don't know where we are and at this point i'm too afraid to ask

With how long the day(?) has been, I really should be asleep now that we're finally out of that nightmare, but I can't manage it. Everything's too tangled up - everyone's alive, but some of the damage that's been done is likely going to be permanent, and that thing we met...
 
After Bumble, we wanted to get as far away as we could, and it took a few days of walking before we managed to find another sign of civilization. There was this tavern, out in the woods, but it was along a road - I suppose I must have assumed it catered to travelers, but there weren't any there at the time, and the road didn't seem well-traveled. At least one of us should have realized how suspicious that was, in hindsight.
 
At first it was nice, to sit down and relax for a bit, and I did get to introduce Zsoana to something better than that slime she was drinking the last time we were at a tavern. We also learned Glow is actually quite a bit younger than we thought she was! She's not even an adult yet, which is concerning in itself. Why is she traveling with a group of adventurers so young? Does she not have a family or home to go back to? Is it connected to her silence? Or is that unrelated? I would rather not push it, since she seems to be fine... but I'll be keeping a closer eye on her from now on. Especially since Iltiari had no issue trying to slip her a drink anyway.
 
The landlord-dodging bartender, though, turned out to be evil, or at least morally bankrupt and willing to work for someone worse. Our food and drinks were drugged, but I can't remember anything past Damiel realizing that - the next thing I remember is waking up in a cell with Damiel, with all of our things gone. The back of his head was bloodied, but whoever took us from the tavern didn't bother to do anything about it, and finding him not moving... it was frightening, for a moment. Luckily, we must not have been unconscious for long; the injury hadn't clotted much, but he didn't seem to be in imminent danger of bleeding to death, and he woke up after I patched him up with what little supplies were on hand. Even after we broke out, though, he was out of it for most of our escape attempt. Bell gave him a healing potion after we regained our things, but he didn't trust it to be effective and I don't know enough about how potions interact with a concussion. I need to remember to check him for any sign that he's still concussed before we set off tomorrow.
 
Zsoana and Nabith weren't so lucky, when they woke up. Nothing fatal - but they woke up with stitched cuts, and we suspect that they had an organ stolen, probably a kidney? Maiming someone like that is foul. The mastermind behind this - Tazra? - should be put down for that crime alone, even without considering the deaths that we can blame her for. Runes in the cells blocked us from using our magic, even my little flames, and from the state of the poor souls we found in other cells, they likely drain away life force as well. It even turned Iltiari's strange arm back into nonliving stone - how does their arm work? I had assumed it was some sort of gift from their patron, but never questioned it.
 
The entire place was... evil, that's the only way I can describe it. The only regret I have about getting away is that Damiel wasn't able to blow it up like we did the tavern. A place designed to drain away magic, and steal it to be used for evil, without regard for what damage it might do to the people it was taken from? That shouldn't be allowed to exist. When the Navy finds it, I hope they're able to destroy whatever mechanism was powering those runes.
 
The guards were far less evil than the cells, however. Despite keeping people captive, they were much less threatening than I thought they would be, and most of them folded under Iltiari's intimidation without much trouble. That said, if they didn't survive our sudden escape, I don't know if I can say that it wasn't deserved.
 
If only one good thing comes out of this, it's that we were able to rescue a few people from that place. One of them was a Tabaxi named Inks, who, though we had no idea before, is Hail's father. He wasn't well when we found him, but he should recover with enough rest and time. What Hail will do next is still the question - her father is apparently an archaeologist, and doesn't seem well-suited for adventuring. Hail might want to leave and take him back to wherever she calls home.
 
here, the writing switches to another language
 
I do not want to think in Infernal, not after that demon, but I hate the thought of this being read. Damiel can read it, but I do not think he will. I want to stop Bell more than anyone else. She seems curious enough to open this, if I ever left it lying around.
 
When we escaped from our cells, we found a lab. Damiel's things, including Willow, were there, and the vessel that was being used to steal magic. The demon was there, guarding it. It shifted to mimic the person it was talking to, and although I asked it questions... it was sickening, seeing something like that wear my face, and the faces of people I can... rely on.
 
Damn Infernal! There is no word for friendship, or even companions in this disgusting language.
 
The only relief was that the demon took no more interest in me than the others, and that they said nothing about my potential relation to it. But when they spoke to it, none of them feared it like they should have. Have none of them heard the stories of the Incursion? Do they not know that the demons should be gone - and the danger of having someone out there in the world who is both willing and capable of summoning them?
 
I... don't want to think about it any longer. I wrote a message for the Navy, and I'll send it as soon as I can. They will handle it.
 
There's more weighing on my mind, though, and it's even worse to put to paper. I thought I was just interested in Damiel's knowledge, of the potential that his skills could have if applied properly. But those few moments before I knew he was alive, in the cells.... It was frightening. Not because I was afraid for myself, or for the others, though I was, but because I was afraid for him. He matters to me, in a different way from the others.
 
The constraints of Infernal are even more infuriating when I realize there's no good way to write what I'm feeling, but if I wrote it out in Common, someone might read it, and that's even worse.
 
I do not know what I am going to do about it. He does not seem to understand emotion well - if I said nothing, would he ever notice? But I do not want him to never realize - and yet part of me is so ill when I think about saying something that I almost want him to remain ignorant. But that part is smaller, and quieter, now.
 
Damiel will likely hate it, or take no real notice, like he does most other feelings people have, but I am going to say something, eventually. If only to give him the chance to turn me down before it becomes a burden. I cannot help thinking that I might be wrong about that, though. That... would be a much better outcome. I should ask Bell - she might know something about any traditions or taboos the elves have. He seems to miss his homeland, so maybe I can recreate a little of it for him. If I am going to do it, I will do this right.
 
....Gods, this is frightening.