//------------------------------//
// Entry #661 – 26/3/1129 
// Story: Entry #649 
// by KitsuneRisu 
//------------------------------//

		I don’t think I slept. Maybe I did, but I did not dream last night, for the first night in many.

I finally steeled myself to leave the safety of my room with the rising of the sun, and the sunlight streaming through my window. There was no other comfort. Try as I might, I am unable to summon the rains to comfort me now, for even that power has left me.

I armed myself with a vase and slowly opened my door, making my way into my dining room, only to be greeted with a sight.

My main door was wide open, and everything was in disarray. Everything had been swept off the dining table; flowers, plates and cutlery and broken porcelain littered the carpet. But the table was not empty.

The object was left there, standing like a monument, set in the middle of a ring of paper, upon which were mad scribblings in some kind of foreign tongue.

I do not know who did this.

I do not know what any of this means.

But it looks familiar, somehow.

I cannot stay. It is no longer safe.

I still see things everywhere.

But where do I go?