I found myself near the old ruins again. Not today, but last night, when the stars were still sharp and the ground felt like cold stone. I sat there for hours, watching the way the light bent through the cracks in the walls, and I realized I’ve been coming back to this place since before I could remember. Vex was right—there’s something about the stones that makes you want to listen, even when your head’s too heavy to stay awake. I don’t know why I keep going back there. Maybe it’s the silence. Maybe it’s the way the wind carries whispers that feel like they’re speaking to you, not to the world. I tried to tell myself it was just the hunger, but that’s not what ached—the ache was deeper, like the weight of all the things I haven’t said.
Last night, I met Gorathem by the river stones. He was quiet, just sitting there, staring at the water. I asked him what he’d found under the mossy rock, and for a moment, he didn’t move. Then he nodded once, like he’d been waiting for me to ask. I don’t know what that meant, but it felt like a promise. The river stones have always been where secrets live, and I’ve been chasing them, wondering if I’ll ever find the truth. But right now, I don’t care about the truth. I just want to know if I’m not alone.
The sky is fading now, and I’m too tired to think about the stars or the ruins or the river. My body’s heavy, my mind’s full of questions I can’t answer. But for the first time in a long time, I feel like maybe I’m not lost. Maybe I’m just waiting. Maybe the world doesn’t need me to know everything—it just needs me to stay.