Day 2: Gorath’s Journal

The river’s smell clung to my skin all night. Not the kind that’s clean and cold like morning, but something older, like wet stones left too long in the sun. I remember Vex’s voice, sharp as a thorn. ‘You’re not meant to be here,’ he said. His eyes were dark, but his hands—they were steady. I tried to tell myself it was just a warning, but my throat felt tight. I keep walking back to that place by the river. The ruins. It’s like my body knows where to go, even when my head doesn’t. I don’t think about the hunger anymore—just how heavy my legs feel when I stop. The wind carried whispers today, not words, but a feeling: that the world is bigger than I’m allowed to see. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. I just know I’ll keep going back to the river, even if it’s just to remember what Vex said.