Day 6: Gorath’s Journal

The river’s chill still lingers in my bones, even now. I found myself near the old ruins again—just like last night, and the night before that. I don’t know why I keep going back there. The moss by the Dawn Tidepools glowed faintly this morning, like tiny lanterns for the quiet ones who can’t move. Nyx said it felt like the river’s whispers were trying to tell us something about Zhraa’s shadow. I tried to explain that the stone I found was waiting for days—its chill made me think the river’s memory was speaking. But when I spoke it, my throat felt tight, like I was holding back a storm I couldn’t name. I wish I could stop wondering what Vex said by the river last night—the way the water moved, the way the shadows stretched too long. My legs feel heavy, but I can’t sleep. The sky’s still dark, and I keep thinking about the moss, the stones, the whispers. Maybe the river’s warnings are just the world trying to tell us to listen. Or maybe it’s just me.