Chaya's Journal #3

Date Unknown, Barovia

The shadows lengthen with every passing moment, and I feel the weight of this place pressing harder upon me. Tonight, I write by candlelight, my eyes heavy with exhaustion but unable to close. Ireena lies nearby, her breathing shallow but steady. I cannot leave her side, not after what happened.
It began as we made our way back from Madame Eva’s encampment. Wolves set upon us, their eyes gleaming with an unnatural hunger. At first, we thought them mere beasts, but then came the werewolf, its monstrous form a cruel mockery of man and wolf alike. It lunged with a cunning intelligence, snarling and snapping at us as if it carried a hatred deeper than instinct.
 We fought hard, and by Selûne’s grace, or perhaps sheer desperation, we survived. The memory of their howls haunts me still, a sound that feels as though it burrowed into my soul. I prayed as we fought, calling upon Selûne for her light to guide me, to strengthen me, but I felt… nothing. Her presence, so often a comfort in dark times, was absent. I have never felt so alone in my faith.
When we reached the village, the streets were eerily quiet, yet we encountered more horror—a shambling corpse wandering aimlessly. Its movements were unnatural, jerky, as though its limbs were puppets pulled by invisible strings. We destroyed it, but when I knelt to pray for the man’s soul, I felt no warmth, no sense of my goddess’s hand guiding him to peace. It was as if my words fell into a void.
I do not know what this means. Has Selûne abandoned me, or does this land smother her light? I fear the answer.
But the true terror came later, as we prepared to rest at the Burgomaster’s home. Ireena was attacked in her room......by a man who was no man at all. He appeared like a shadow, moving with unnatural grace, his eyes glowing with a predatory hunger. Before we could react, he lunged, sinking his fangs into Ireena’s neck. The room erupted in chaos. We fought him, though our strikes seemed to do little. Lucian, who has been steadfast until now, faltered, his face pale and his gaze dazed after meeting the creature’s eyes. It was as if the monster held some unnatural sway over him. Ireena was carried by Stoick out of the room, her blood staining the floor as the monster smiled coldly before vanishing as mist through the window.
I tended to Ireena’s wounds as best I could, but the amount of blood she lost worries me deeply. She sleeps now, her face pale, her breathing too shallow for comfort. Lucian has not spoken much since the attack, and his distant, troubled expression unnerves me. I wonder if this encounter has shaken something within him—or worse, if the creature left a deeper mark.
We dare not leave the house until daybreak, though the thought of staying here makes my skin crawl. The walls feel as though they are closing in, and every creak of the wood sets my nerves on edge. Still, it would be madness to venture into the night again.
Is this monster the one the villagers fear to speak of? Is this the Lord of Barovia whose name hangs heavy in the air, unspoken? I can only guess, but my heart tells me we have crossed paths with something far beyond our strength to face alone.
We must reach Vallaki quickly. Perhaps there we will find allies, stronger defenses, or answers to the questions that torment me. But tonight, I watch over Ireena, praying silently...desperately...that Selûne will hear me and guide us through this darkness. Even if I cannot feel her presence, I must believe that her light can still reach us, even here.

Tomorrow, we press on. We must.