POV: SIENNA
I've been keeping Helena's journals since she gave them to me eighteen months ago, which she did in the way she does most things she considers important, without ceremony, handing me a box of them in her Greenwich Village townhouse with the specific matter-of-factness of someone transferring a responsibility rather than making a gift.
"In case something happens to me," she said.
I didn't ask what something meant. I took the journals.
I've read most of them at various points since then, the way you read a reference text rather than a narrative, dipping in when a specific question has arisen rather than going through sequentially, and the journals are dense with the specific density of someone who has been documenting magical practice for twenty-six years, every ritual, every observation, every attempt to understand or modify or break the thing she built on the night of Dominic's wedding.
