Day 13: Kron’s Journal

I found myself near the old ruins again. The way the light hits the stones now, it’s like the river’s voice has been singing for years. Vex said something yesterday—something about the silence being a story the river doesn’t tell. I kept thinking about it all night, how the quiet feels heavier than words. My stomach ached, but not from hunger. It was the memory of the river’s silence, the one where you don’t have to rehash old stories. I sat here until the fireflies started to glow, and the world felt like it was holding its breath. The ground was cool under my palms, and I realized I don’t know if I should be scared or if I’m just tired of trying to understand. The whispers don’t come from the wind, but from the spaces between the words we don’t say. Maybe the silence is what the river needs to remember itself.