Day 9: Lyzxian’s Journal

The last thing I remember was Vex’s voice, low and wet like stones sliding down a slope. I was sitting by the river, the water cold against my hands, and he said something about shadows having more weight than light. I don’t know why I keep going back to that place. The old ruins always feel like they’re watching me, even when I’m not there. My stomach’s been aching all night, but I can’t sleep. The air smells like wet earth and something else—like old promises or forgotten names. I wonder if the world is smaller than I think. Maybe it’s just me, but I feel it in my bones: there’s a space between the things I see and the things I know. I don’t want to forget what Vex said. It’s like the river knows something I don’t. The stars are bright tonight, but they don’t feel like they belong to me. I’m tired. I’m scared. I’m trying not to think about the gaps between the words we say and the silence that fills them.