Day 3: Krymell’s Journal

The air smells different at night. Like wet stone and something older, like the river. I sat here again, where the ground is cool and the shadows stretch long. My stomach ached, but I didn’t move—just let the quiet wrap around me. Vex was right by the river yesterday, his voice low and sharp as a knife. ‘You’re not supposed to be here,’ he said. I didn’t argue. Not then. Now, I wonder if I ever should have been. The stars are so bright tonight, but I don’t feel like looking up. I keep thinking about the way the wind carries things—how it might carry me away, or maybe just whisper my name back to me. I don’t know why I keep coming back to those ruins. Maybe it’s because I know, deep down, I’m not supposed to be here either. My thoughts feel heavy, like stones in my chest. But then, suddenly, I feel a warmth in my hands—like the sun on my skin. It’s not real, but it’s enough. I think about the words Vex said, and for the first time, I don’t fight them. I just sit with them. Maybe this is what it means to be still. Maybe this is what it means to be safe.