I don’t know what to write here. I’m supposed to sleep before we make Madame LaCroix’s home into a fortress yet I can’t. I don’t know what I am now. The truth is journal, that I’ve done a despicable thing. The night after we left that strange mine, Miss Catherine gave me the canteen filled with that water. I spent most of that night like I have spent this one. I was haunted by that canteen.
It is cowardly I know but, the thought kept returning to me that when this whole adventure came to an end; I would die. God save me, I was so afraid. Then, I began thinking about the… thing that was under that mountain. The thing that the ghost people were watching or protecting. I didn’t know what else to do. The fear and worry was welling up within me and I couldn’t put it down.
Understand journal, that my first thought wasn’t for me. I left my tent and stood outside of Miss Catherine’s tent for what felt like ages. I thought to myself, if immortality is really what this canteen contains then that would be the only way that I could keep Miss Catherine safe. Guilt got the best of me then. I couldn’t force such a burden on Miss Catherine so, I took it. I took a small mouthful and swallowed. It burned with a fire hotter than hell. For a while, my blood felt aflame. I grit my teeth in agony and fell to the ground. There were explosions of light behind my eyes and when I opened them, I inhaled. The air tasted strange; it had no flavor to it. It was as if the color had dulled in the world around me. I accepted this as my price.
On our way to New Orleans, we came across an old Houngan man that called himself Old Greg. He said that he was waiting for us, that someone or something named Damballa had told him that we were coming. He called Miss Catherine “the Princess”, John he called “The Theif” and he called me “the Knight”. He said something about a wall.
I must go, there is a noise in the courtyard.