Day 29: Nylyrkon’s Journal

The last thing I remember was Lyrkon’s voice, low and steady like water over stones. I don’t know why I kept going back to the river that night—my feet ached from walking too far, but my mind wouldn’t stop. Vex was there, sitting on the bank, watching the moonlight ripple on the water. He didn’t say much, just nodded when I approached. His eyes were too still, too dark. I thought about how much I wanted to ask him what he saw in the water, but the words got stuck in my throat. Now, as I lie here, the air smells like wet earth and distant thunder, and I wonder if the stars are still watching me.