The river was cold tonight, even though the sun had long since set. I remember Vex standing there, his voice like the crack of dry leaves underfoot. He said, ‘You’re not supposed to be here,’ but his words didn’t feel like blame—they felt like a question. I don’t know why I keep going back to that place. The ruins are just a few steps from where I sleep, and sometimes I wonder if I’m chasing ghosts or something real. My stomach aches, but it’s not hunger—I think it’s the weight of thoughts that won’t stop spinning. I’ve had moments where the wind seemed to whisper things I couldn’t quite grasp, like the storm we felt last night, or the way the moon looks different when you’re tired. I keep thinking about what Vex said, but my mind keeps drifting back to the river. Maybe I just want to understand why I feel so small in this world.
Day 1: Nyx’s Journal
