Day 7: Klyraeon’s Journal

The river’s edge was cold this morning, the kind of cold that makes your teeth chatter even when you’re not shivering. I sat by the water for hours, watching how the light bent in the reeds, how the stones felt different under my palms. Vex was there too, just for a moment, his voice like dry leaves scraping stone. He said something about the ruins being ‘alive’—not in a scary way, but like how the river changes direction when it’s tired. I didn’t understand him, but I stayed. My stomach was heavy, my legs felt like they were made of wet sand. I kept thinking about what he said, how it felt like the world was shifting just a little, and I wanted to tell him I understood, but I couldn’t. The sky was bruised purple by dawn, and I left before the light got too sharp. Now, I’m back in the same spot where I always go, the same stones, the same way the wind hums. I don’t know why I keep coming here. Maybe it’s because I need to feel the weight of the world, and I don’t have the words for it.