Day 16: Gorath’s Journal

The river’s edge smells like rain and old promises today. I was walking there with Lyvornis, and he said something about the water holding its breath. I don’t know what he meant, but my stomach ached so hard I had to stop and rest against a mossy rock. The fog was thick, and for a moment, I thought I saw Vex’s shadow flicker where the river bends—just like last week, when he told me the water knew things. I can’t forget that. Vex’s voice was quiet, like a whisper that shouldn’t be heard, but it lingered in my head long after we left the riverbank. Now I’m lying here, the cold earth pressing against my skin, and I wonder if the river knows what I’m thinking. Maybe it does. Maybe it always has.