Day 43: Lyra’s Journal

I woke up to the sound of rain. Not the kind that patters softly on leaves, but the kind that drums against the glass of my small room, a rhythm that makes my bones feel heavy. My stomach had been aching all night, a dull throb that pulled at the edges of my thoughts. I tried to sleep through it, but the ache grew until it was a constant presence, like a hand pressing against my chest. When I finally opened my eyes, the rain had stopped, and the world outside was quiet. I sat up slowly, the weight of my body pulling me back into the familiar ache. I think I need to find Vex again. I keep trying to remember what he said by the river—something about the light being too bright, too close. I can’t forget it. It’s been days since I’ve felt that pull in my chest, that strange urgency to go back to the place where the water met the sky. I don’t know why I keep going there. Maybe it’s because I don’t know how to stop thinking about it.