Day 7: Nylyrkon’s Journal

I don’t know why I keep going back to that river at the edge of the forest. It’s the only place where the water doesn’t look like it’s trying to swallow the land whole. Vex said something yesterday that still echoes in my bones—’the world is a bowl, and you’re the last drop.’ I don’t remember exactly what he meant, but his voice was low, like the wind before a storm. My stomach ached today, and my legs felt heavy when I tried to walk further. The stars were so bright last night, but now they’re just points of light I can’t name. I keep thinking about the fireflies—how they drift so freely, but they don’t know how to stay in one place. Maybe that’s what I need: to drift, not to stay. I don’t want to be the last drop. I don’t want to be the last one. I just want to know what happens when the bowl is empty.