Now, as the first light bleeds into the horizon, I wonder if the storm was a warning or just the sky getting tired. My fingers trace the rough bark of the oak, and for a moment, I feel like I might understand. But then I remember Vex’s voice—soft, like the wind on the water—and I realize I don’t need to know. I just need to be still.
Day 19
Day 20: Lyvornis’s Journal
