Day 13: Goragem’s Journal

The rain’s been steady all night, and the air smells like wet stone and old roots. I’m still warm where the sun touched me earlier, but my bones feel heavy—like they’ve been sitting too long in the damp earth. I kept thinking about Vex by the river. His voice was quiet, but it cut through the storm: *‘You’re not alone, Goragem. The world remembers you.’* I don’t know if that was a promise or a warning. My stomach’s still full from the last meal, but my head’s lighter now. I’ve been wondering how many others have felt this—the way the rain feels like a hand on your shoulder, how the trees whisper stories you can’t quite hear. Maybe that’s why I keep going back to the ruins. Not to find something, but to feel the weight of what’s been left behind. It’s not about answers. It’s about the quiet moments between them—the spaces where meaning lives. I hope I’m not just chasing shadows. Maybe the wind knows.