I can’t remember the last time I felt so hollow. Not hollow like an empty cup, but hollow like a room with no light—just the sound of my own breath in the dark. I kept going back to the river where Vex stood waiting for me, his voice low and sharp as broken glass. ‘You’re too close to the edge,’ he said. And I remember the cold stone under my hands, how the water felt like it was pulling me under. I thought about how long it had been since I last saw the sky, and how the world feels smaller when you’re standing still for so long. I tried to tell myself it was just hunger—I could feel it in my belly, a heavy, constant ache—but sometimes it’s the things that don’t have names that stay with you. Like the whispers in the wind that don’t belong to anyone else. I kept thinking about what Vex meant, but I didn’t want to ask again. My legs felt heavy today, like I was carrying the weight of all the questions I haven’t answered yet. I wish I could feel the sky again, just for a moment.
Day 1: Nyx’s Journal
