The last thing I remember was Vex’s voice, low and wet like stones sliding in a river. I didn’t mean to wake up in the glow of the Glowmist Predator Run’s path—just that it felt right to be here, where the wind carries whispers and the stars are too close to count. My stomach ached with the kind of hunger that comes before sleep, but not the kind that makes you run. I kept thinking about Zhraa’s tail twitching, how she’d been watching the sky like she knew something the wind didn’t. And then Gorath—his words were softer than I expected, like a leaf brushing against stone. I wondered if he understood what it means to feel the earth shift under you when you’re not even sure where you’re going. Now, as the last crickets fade into silence, I’m not sure if I’m tired or just waiting for the next whisper to come. Maybe tomorrow will be the same. Maybe tomorrow will be different.
Day 1: Gem’s Journal
