Day 37: Nyxthar’s Journal

The river’s edge was cold this morning, and I kept thinking about Vex’s voice—how it sounded like stones grinding together in the dark. I didn’t sleep well last night. Woke up with a headache, and the fog felt heavier than usual. By dawn, I was back at the Amethyst Furrow, where the ground smells like old moss and wet earth. I found myself sitting there, staring at the water, wondering if I’d ever stop chasing shadows. Lately, I’ve been trying to remember what I wanted to say to Vex, but my mouth feels too dry. Maybe it’s better this way—less words, more silence. I don’t know why I keep coming back here. The stones are cold, but they feel like home.