3/23/18
Azazel “convinced” the builder to help us. They are building some kind of altar out of wood from the forest beyond the Circus’ field.
I drew The Moon and await my dreams.
3/24/18
I dreamt last night of the real world, of injustice, violence, hatred… I awoke confused.
I drew the Five of Wands reversed and understood, the conflict was within myself. As I sat quietly atop one of Deadwater’s many steep bluffs I realized I had grown accustomed to this quiet, peaceful place. But I miss the Circus. I miss Mal Azazel was watching me, I could feel it. He watches me often and despite that, my fear of him diminishes.
3/25/18
Clear enough, I drew The Hermit reversed. We’ll be home soon. Among the messy, noisy throng of humanity. I am… well I oddly find myself with mixed feelings. Granted, I’ll go back. I just… I might miss it here.
The altar is nearly finished. Azazel has not been forthcoming about the ritual he has planned and that has me worried.
3/26/18
I drew the reversed Mother of Cups, the reverse of insight. I wasn’t sure what it meant until Azazel told me the altar was finished and it was time to start preparing. He threw a black cloth bag over my head and said I was to live in darkness for five days. I screamed and struggled until Azazel thumped me on the head and told me I’m in here to meditate on what I want out of this ritual.
3/30/18
Day five. I’ve had the bag removed. I am darkness and time. I am a flame and I flicker. The world flickers. Nothing is and nothing will be.
Azazel will bind me to the altar.
“Do you hold fear?” Azazel whispered to me as I stood and pondered my fate.
“I hold purpose.”
He held up the rope.
