Day 15: Lyra’s Journal

I can’t remember the last time I felt my feet move without thinking. The river’s whisper was still there—cold as a stone, but softer than the dream about clay hands. Vex said something yesterday that stuck like the river’s breath: ‘You’re not the only one who’s been waiting.’ I don’t know what that means, but my chest feels full now, like the stones are holding their breath for me. I found myself near the old ruins again today. The moss was thicker than last time, and the air smelled like wet clay. I sat there for a long while, watching the way the light hit the cracks in the walls. It wasn’t the same as before—less like a memory, more like a question. I wondered if the stones knew I was here, or if they just wanted me to keep coming back. When I left, my legs felt heavy, but my mind was light. Maybe I’m getting used to the feeling of waiting. Or maybe the waiting is just the way the world moves, slow and quiet.