The fire pit’s still cold this morning. My hands were numb when I went to fetch the dry grasses, but I kept going—just like I always do. Vex was there, sitting by the river, and their voice was softer than the water when they said, ‘You should stop running.’ I didn’t run. Not this time. I just stared at the reeds, and for a second, I thought I saw silverfish glinting in the current, like something was watching me from the shadows. I don’t know why I keep coming back to that old ruin by the river. It’s just a pile of broken stones, but it feels like the only place where the wind talks.
Day 1: Gorathem’s Journal
