I do not know whether it is my own age getting to me or if there is something amiss here, but I have found myself double taking my surroundings all the more with each passing day and feeling the all too uncanny sensation of being watched...Or followed. Admittedly, I find myself falling asleep at the desk whilst I am lost in the notes of my predecessor, but on the nights I do make it home, I feel as something has followed me, or that I am not alone. I do not live with anyone, and seldom have visitors, so it goes without saying that I would be fine-tuned to the creaks and groans of my old alms-house, and know very well that any of my neighbours are foreign to the idea of making any noise past the tick of nine-o-clock, as many are of my own age, and tend to read or knit themselves to sleep most days.  

But I digress, my concerns do seem rather quaint, but I know very well what I hear. I may be old, but I am not deaf – Not entirely at least. Apart from the all too real footsteps that permeate my small home, I hear the odd whisper and sometimes the creaks that are unique only to my antique rocking chair that sits by the fireplace in the loungeroom. Its older than I and has a specific groan that one can only get when well seated in it. Even the draft that occasionally blows through the kitchen window has never elicited such a noise. I thought nothing of it at first, until it started to become a regular occurrence. Nights have become long, and I oft find myself lying awake for hours, contemplating whether or not my efforts to open the proverbial, and possibly literal pandora’s box was wise. Thinking about it, I can’t quite remember what drew me to pursue this daunting task, but now I find myself unable to stop, seeming to have grown a niche obsession with finding answers for questions that I myself do not know. Perhaps it is in the subtle nuances of my predecessors which I seek, or if deep down I know there is something more waiting to be uncovered.  

Despite the myriad of hours, I have poured through old research notes, finding peculiar items I find myself less than penitent on the thought of tearing apart years of secrecy and hard work. Lest I make myself no different to a pilferer, I have endeavoured to do my best to sort out my findings and have even prepared one of the back rooms for the specific purpose of ‘remodelling’ the archive. I say that loosely, because whilst I doubt I will ever see the end of this, I’m beginning to slowly find some inkling of order within the utter mess left behind – as if by intent. But before I go on yet another tangent on how methodical Madame Crowley was, I find myself growing ever tired, even as I sit here and write this.  

But I feel I am forgetting something – Ah, yes. That specimen I found still eludes me, and the same could be said about that door beneath her desk. The Magick is complicated, far beyond my own capabilities to combat it, despite being the former protégé of the world's greatest Magician. I feel just thinking this would bring a scoff to Sir Elias’ face, yet I can’t help but chuckle at that notion. But on the note of that...Thing I found. It is a pomander. At least that is what I think it is, from close inspection of the features of the object, however any attempts to open it to check inside has been rendered moot. This has left me with more questions than answers, as I cannot recall Madame Crowley possessing one. With that said, they were quite the fad some few decades ago when that dreaded Pallipox wrought the country, though that long after she disappeared, and I cannot recall any other pandemics that occurred in her time, nor are there any records of them, not for the past three centuries at least.  

Currently, it is sitting within the box which I found it, tucked away in one the drawers of her desk. I would know, because I have checked it a few dozen times today alone. Its unlike me to hold obsessions over things like this, but I’m starting to notice subtle differences with it. The colour? Or is it the strange energy that it gives off? Or maybe the faint buzzing sound that only seems to get louder the further I am from it, yet only within the vicinity of the archive? Did it always have that? I can’t recall. But just yesterday I found myself packing it away in my saddlebag. I returned it to its rightful place, of course, and locked the drawer shut. I even went as far as to tuck the key away in a safe place.  

What else? No point in droning on about how dreary the weather has been, though it has been nice enough to sit at home with a hot cup of qahwah and read through some of the letters I have bought home from the study. Whilst I do try keep my work and home life separate, I cannot seem to drop the urge to uncover more secrets, so it happens that I spend most of my evenings prolonging my quest for knowledge on my ever-abundant predecessor. In this I have noticed a theme, a peculiar one, but one, nonetheless. Aside from the classical notions that Crowley leaves in her wording, I have noticed a pattern of wordings and peculiar illustrations that I can only surmise as a whale-like entity, though it is often portrayed alongside the great tree, and in ways that one could describe as flying. I don’t know what to make of this, but I can’t find any information on this strange creature. I will surely make further notes on this should I find any answers. 

Signed, 

Dr. Asimov Samford - Head Magicks Archivist of the Imperial Library, Candria