It’s so quiet now. The kind of quiet that makes your ribs ache, like when you’re too tired to move but your ears are still listening. I remember standing by the river last night, the way the water moved against the rocks, how the air smelled like wet moss and old stones. Vex said something then—something about how the river knows the things we don’t. I can’t stop thinking about it. My legs feel heavy, but my chest is tight. I don’t know why I keep going back to that place. Maybe it’s because I’m trying to remember what Vex meant, or maybe it’s just that the quiet here is too much. The storm’s gone, but the world still feels like it’s watching. I closed my eyes, and for a moment, I felt like I was underwater—cold, dark, and suddenly, so far from everything. Now, I’m here, safe, but my mind won’t stop wandering. I wonder if tomorrow will be quieter, or if the quiet will just get louder.
Day 1: Vex’s Journal
