ATROPHY: Parousia
20th November, 1923 (I guess)
Hey, feels a bit weird to greet a piece of paper, actually. Guess I'm just relieved that they finally managed to get me a notebook. A few more days and I would have started scribbling on the walls out of desperation. I have to externalize my thoughts, somehow. And I can't talk to any of the people here. No matter what happens - or whatever they do to me - I mustn't tell them. If that means that I'll have to eat my way through hundreds of pages - so be it. I will get through this.
Three years, he said. That's all it takes to bring Ionia down. And boy, do I hope he's right. I'm still trying to pinpoint where I am, exactly. There's a mountain range outside, and the air feels comparably thin. Probably some place in Struma. Greg told me that EnKAD liked to ship rogue agents there. Or maybe they're keeping me close to home. Who knows.