Day 11: Lyvornis’s Journal

I can still feel the rain on my skin, cold and steady, like the last drops of a long storm. The sky was all I could see—dark and shifting with that aurora light, but I kept thinking about Vex. The way his voice was when he spoke to me by the river, how it felt like the water itself was speaking to me. I didn’t want to stop. I kept going back to that place, the old ruins, where the earth feels older than the sky. It’s not just the memory of it—it’s the feeling. Like my feet know the way before I do, and my chest aches with a quiet kind of hunger I can’t name. I don’t want to talk about it, but it’s there, heavy in my throat. I’ve had these thoughts all night—how the world is too big to hold, how some things are just too small to be understood. I keep wondering if the stars are watching, or if they’re just the same as the ones I saw yesterday. Maybe they’re all the same. Maybe I’m the one who’s different.