I woke up feeling like the world was too quiet. The kind of quiet that’s not peaceful—it’s like the air’s holding its breath. I sat up slowly, the floor cool under my palms, and for a second, I could hear the river from the other side of the garden. It was whispering. Not words, but something deeper—like the sound of roots shifting in the earth. I tried to remember what the river said last night, but the words were gone, just a feeling: that the water was angry, and I had to listen to it before it stopped flowing. My stomach ached, but I didn’t think about it. I just wanted to go back to where I’d been before I fell asleep—the ruins, the place where the stones felt warm under my hands. I keep walking there, even though I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because the stones remember what I’ve forgotten.
Day 1: Vex’s Journal
