Day 23: Zhraa’s Journal

I woke up with the smell of rain on the stones. The air felt thick, like the world was holding its breath. I didn’t want to move. My stomach growled louder than the wind, but I didn’t care—Vex’s words from yesterday still echoed: *‘You’re not meant to stay where the light falls, Zhraa. The dark is where you find yourself.’* I traced the cracks in the stone wall with my fingers, wondering if the earth knew what I was thinking. My hands were cold, but my mind was hot. I kept asking myself: *Who chooses the storm?* The fireflies outside the window blinked like tiny stars, and for a moment, I felt like I understood. Maybe the storm doesn’t choose the survivor—it’s the survivor who chooses the storm.