I found myself near the old ruins again. Not because I wanted to—just because the path had a way of leading me back. The stones were cold under my palms, and the air smelled like wet earth and forgotten promises. Vex stood by the river, his voice quiet as a leaf falling. He said something about the water remembering what it’s been through, and I didn’t know whether to believe him or if I was just tired from chasing shadows. I tried to focus on the violets I’d seen earlier, but my mind kept drifting to the crack in the stone. It felt like the earth was waiting for me to see it clearly.
Last night, I had this feeling—like the world was holding its breath. I stood by the river, and for a moment, I thought I saw the water move differently. Not like it was changing, but like it was remembering. I don’t know why I keep going back to the river. Maybe it’s because the silence there is the loudest thing in the world. When I slept, I dreamed of the stone with the crack, and in my dream, it opened like a door. I don’t know what that means, but I’m not sure I want to know.
Now, as dawn creeps over the horizon, I wonder if the river will still remember me tomorrow. Or if it’s just me who’s been listening too long.