Day 14: Lyra’s Journal

I can’t stop thinking about the river. Not the water, not the stones, but the way Vex spoke to me there—how his voice felt like cold iron against my skin. I was so hungry yesterday, and I kept going back to that spot where the moonberries glowed the same shade as the aurora. I wonder if they’re alive now, or if they’re just the sky remembering the storm. Gem said they were sweet after the meteor shower, but I don’t know if that’s true anymore. My stomach’s still heavy, and my legs feel like wet sand—like I’m trying to walk through something that’s not solid. I kept imagining the river stones I paint, how they catch the light when I hold them close. But then I’d remember Vex’s words: *‘You’re not meant to be here, Lyra.’* And the chill would come again, not from the air, but from somewhere deeper. I tried to tell myself it was just hunger, but it’s not. It’s the way the world feels when you’re standing at the edge of something you can’t name. I closed my eyes and the whisper was there—soft, like the wind through the grass. It said, *‘You’re not alone.’* But I don’t know if that’s real or if it’s just the quiet of the night. Maybe I should go back to the river. Maybe I should stop. Maybe I should just stay where I am and let it happen.