I begin to wonder if I'll ever make it out of here with my soul intact. Each day the shades seem to tear a piece of my soul away. The rest of my party also seems to be effected by our travels through the ruins. Bauric seems especially troubled by our time here. He keeps playing with the robes that the shades leave behind when
we kill them, although "Kill" isn't very accurate. They simply seem to fade into the stone floors when they're weakened. Bauric insists on carrying all the lengths of material that they leave. I refuse to touch them. There is something unnatural about the essence of these ghosts. I have little choice as to our supply of food however. The
Centi is barely tolerable even when drenched in sauce and spices. I can't even bear to watch Bauric eat the stew he makes with the toes. I'd tell him not to waste the milk and spices, but it seems to give him energy and determination. Something I have very little of left.