Day 15: Lyra’s Journal

The clay hands in my dream still feel like they’re trying to pull me back. Not to the river—no, not that. But somewhere deeper. Like the stones humming warnings at the edge of the woods. Vex stood by the river last night, his voice low, saying things that made my chest tighten. He said, “The stones remember what we forget,” but I couldn’t ask him what he meant. I kept thinking about the meteor shards Zyx Kron mentioned—how they glow like breath. Maybe that’s what the stones are whispering. Or maybe it’s just my head getting tired from running so much.