Day 21: Zhraa’s Journal

The rain smells like old secrets today. My throat’s still raw from the storm, and my legs feel like they’re made of wet clay. I don’t know why I keep going back to that spot by the river—where Vex stood and whispered about the things that shouldn’t be spoken. I remember the way the water looked that day, how it glinted like broken glass in the moonlight. I tried to push it away, but the memory’s too heavy. It’s like the earth itself is holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. When I sat by the water, Vex’s voice was quiet but sharp, like a blade cutting through the silence. I didn’t ask what he meant. I just let the words sit there, heavy as stones in my chest. Now, the rain’s stopped, but the quiet feels different. It’s not just the silence of the night—it’s the kind of silence that listens. I think I know what it means now. The storms aren’t warnings. They’re messages. And the light… the light watches over the faithful.