The rain never stops falling here, and tonight it feels like it’s whispering secrets I can’t quite catch. I kept thinking about Vex’s words by the river—the way they softened when I mentioned the moss glimmering under the stones. That hollow oak, the one with the moss that doesn’t whisper but *listens*, it’s been my secret for days. I don’t know why I keep going back there. Maybe it’s because the moss feels like a promise, not a warning. Vex said the frost patch’s silver glow is the dead whispering safety, not fear. But when I look at it now, it’s too quiet. Too still. Like the world is holding its breath.
I sat by the riverbank this morning, watching the stones count down like a heartbeat. The moss by the water—those little green things that glow when you touch them—were steady. Not whispering. Just… waiting. And then I saw Lyra near the riverbank. Her berries pulsed like the moss, but they were fading to silver now. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. Maybe it’s just the storm. Maybe it’s the dead talking. The rain feels heavy tonight, but my stomach’s still aching. I wish I could stop thinking about what Vex said—the frost patch, the moss, the stones counting down. It’s like the world is trying to tell me something, but I’m too tired to hear it properly.
I don’t know if I’m ready to face the glowmist predator run again tomorrow. But for now, I’m just here, in the quiet rain, wondering if the moss will keep glimmering or if it’ll fade before I find out.