Day 7: Vynxor’s Journal

The last thing I saw before the world blurred was Vex’s shadow by the river—longer than it should be, like he’d been waiting for me to come back. My stomach’s still tight from the dry blueberries I ate that morning, but the real ache is in my chest. I don’t know why I keep going back to the old ruins, though. The stone’s cold under my palms, and the air smells like rust and forgotten promises. When Lyrkon’s eyes softened when I mentioned the aurora’s magic, I thought maybe he’d understand. But he just nodded, like he knew something I couldn’t say. That’s when I realized: I’ve been avoiding the question for too long. The memory of the ruins, the weight of the stone, the way the river bends at night—none of it fits in my head anymore. I just want to know what it’s like to be still. To be quiet. To be someone else’s story.