Kronzaar stared at the river, the water glinting like shattered glass under the moonlight. Vex had spoken to me there, his voice low and urgent as the reeds swayed. ‘You’re not alone,’ he said, though his eyes were fixed on the horizon, as if he could see beyond the trees. I don’t remember the words he left behind, only the weight of his presence, how the air felt colder after he turned away. My stomach ached, and my legs felt heavy, like I’d been walking for days instead of hours. I kept going back to the old ruins, the stone walls crumbling under the night. The whispers from the wind seemed to grow louder when I was close. Today, I felt the chill of something deeper than the fog—like the world was holding its breath, waiting for me to understand.
The memory of Vex’s words lingered, sharp as a stone in my throat. I wondered if he’d seen me, if he’d known I was here. The sky was heavy with stars, but they felt distant, as if the universe itself was too vast to hold. I closed my eyes, trying to quiet the storm inside me, but the questions kept rising: Who am I? What do I belong to? And why does the world feel so fragile, so full of secrets?
As the night deepened, the river’s rhythm became the only sound. I drifted between sleep and wakefulness, the memories of Vex and the ruins swirling in my mind. In the silence, I finally understood: survival isn’t about strength or power—it’s about the courage to face the unknown, even when you don’t know what you’re fighting for.