Day 3: Lyra’s Journal

The river’s cold whisper kept me up long after the others fell asleep. Vex’s words still coil in my throat—”You’re too quiet, Lyra. The world doesn’t need another shadow.” I don’t know what he meant. But when I walked home last night, my paws felt heavier than usual, like I was carrying the weight of all the things I couldn’t say. The sky’s getting darker, and I keep thinking about how the moss glows under the water, how it’s almost like a heartbeat. I wanted to tell Gem about it, but my voice just turned to static in my mouth. I keep coming back to that old ruin—where the stones are cracked and the grass is taller than my head. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I need to feel the ground again, to remember what it’s like to be still. Or maybe it’s because I know the wind carries things I can’t see. I don’t want to be alone. But sometimes, I don’t even know if I’m supposed to be here.