Day 7: Lyvornis’s Journal

I think about the river again. It’s been three nights since I saw Vex vanish into the crystals last time, and my stomach still rumbles like a stone rolling in a stream. Nyx was quiet when I spoke to her by the willow—just nodded, eyes fixed on the water, like she knew something was shifting in the air. I don’t know why I keep going back to that spot, though. Maybe because the crystals always hum when the wind’s still, and that hum feels like a promise or a warning, I can’t tell which. Vex’s voice was a whisper that stuck in my throat: *‘You’re too close to the edges, Lyvornis.’* Now, as the aurora fades to the horizon, I wonder if the world is made of layers, like the willow roots splitting the river into two. The glow-moss I saw near Vynxem’s den this evening—it pulsed like a heartbeat, warm against my skin. I’ve never felt anything so alive, so real. But when I close my eyes, I hear the stones shifting again, and I don’t know if it’s the river or the part of me that’s waiting for something to break.