The house withstood last night’s attacks, barely. Repairs are sorely needed. I don’t intend to use all the rooms, I’ll salvage wood from them.

I found an old journal under some loose floorboards. The pages were brittle, the ink faded, but the entries were legible.

The previous occupant was an old woman — Yelena, a “vrojiti” by trade, someone who dabbles in folk magic. She wrote about charms, talismans, amulets, and wards.

Yelena has been saving my life.