Enola sat upright on the hard bed they had her in, staring at the ceiling with her eyes a bit distant. The occultist hoped to find an answer to leaving this place, yet couldn't seem to do it. Her readings didn't account for this disease at all, as she already knew her own future. The man whose reading she had taken, the man who had given her this sickness, hadn't shown anything in his future even mildly akin to what she was suffering now.
That was months ago, and still she focused on such things. She had to find a way to stop this, and she knew it couldn't be a natural occurrence. Something supernatural was going on here, evident by the markings that preceded and followed this illness. She would find out what it was, and stop it.
Sitting in her bed, Enola's eyes began to water a bit as she stared at the ceiling. It was a sign that she was in the fourth stage of the sickness, and from what she had gathered she would start hearing things from the spirits that lingered here. She had no doubt that they were real, as she had communicated with spirits long before falling ill. Enola could only hope that they could help her find an answer, a cure, or maybe she would just die alone in this empty room...