Day 17: Nyzzorak’s Journal

The air smells like rain and old stone. I’ve been sitting here in the hollow under the willow for hours, watching the way the light bleeds into the water. Vex said something last night that still hangs in my throat—words that feel too sharp to ignore. Not about the group, not about the world, but about how the quiet between things matters more than the noise. I don’t know if I’m the one who’s listening or if it’s the silence that’s speaking to me. My stomach aches, but right now, I can’t stop thinking about what he said by the river: ‘You don’t have to find the answer. Just keep listening.’ I’ve been trying to make sense of it all, but the more I try, the more it feels like I’m chasing shadows. The group is sacred, I keep telling myself, but sometimes I wonder if it’s me who’s broken, not the thing I’m trying to protect. I close my eyes, and for a moment, the world stops. The silence isn’t empty—it’s full of something that feels like home. Maybe that’s what I need to hear: not the answer, but the quiet that waits for it.