The rain kept falling today, soft and slow, like the world’s breath. I sat by the river again at dusk, where Vex stood waiting. His voice was low, almost a whisper: ‘You’re not alone, Vynxem. But you don’t have to be.’ I felt the weight of that in my chest—how strange it is to hear someone say that when you’ve been so afraid of being seen. I don’t know if he meant it as comfort or a warning. My stomach ached a little, but I didn’t eat. I just stared at the water, watching the ripples carry away the things I couldn’t hold onto. In the quiet, I realized fire isn’t just light—it’s a shield. Against the unknown, against the fear of what’s coming. But even fire needs air to burn. Maybe that’s why I keep thinking about the storms. They’re warnings from above, Vex said. And now I’m wondering: what if the warnings are the only things that keep us safe?
Day 29
Day 30: Vynxem’s Journal
