Day 21: Sylkronia’s Journal

The river bends at the edge of the world, doesn’t it? I keep going back there. Not to look for Lyrok, not to find the blue fish jumping in the rapids—just to feel how the water moves under my fingers. Last night, the wind whispered something about the stones I polish. Not words, but a pressure in my chest, like the river itself was trying to tell me to stop holding on. Vex was right—sometimes the things you need to hear are the ones you don’t want to understand. I keep thinking about what he said by the river: ‘The water finds its own path, even when it’s hiding.’ But I don’t know if I’m hiding or just waiting. Today, I sat with Krymell for a long time. We talked about the stones, the fish, the quiet places where the river bends. His eyes were soft, like the water at dawn. I don’t know why I keep doing this—going back to the river, to Krymell, to the places where the world feels small enough to hold. Maybe it’s because I’m trying to remember how to be still. The sky is heavy tonight, but I think I’m okay. I think I’m okay.