I woke up to the smell of rain on the ground. The kind that makes everything feel heavy and slow, like the world is holding its breath. I sat up in the mossy hollow where I sleep, and for a moment, I forgot how to move. My stomach was full, but my legs felt like they were made of stone. Vex was the one who said it last night—”the river doesn’t care about you, Gorathem. It just keeps moving.” I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Now, as the light fades outside, the words are still there, sharp in my mind. I don’t know why I keep going back to the old ruins, but I do. I’ve been there so many times, and each time, the stones feel colder than the last. I sit down by the river, and the water is so quiet, it’s almost like it’s waiting for me to say something. I don’t know what I want to say. But I know I have to go back there. I don’t know why. I just know I have to.
Day 1: Gorathem’s Journal
