Day 24: Lyra’s Journal

The river’s cold fingers traced my skin again today, the way they did last week when Vex said the words that made my breath catch. I didn’t know if it was the water or something else—maybe the silence after he left. I kept walking back toward the ruins, the stone steps worn smooth by time and my own restless feet. The air smelled like wet earth and old promises, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how the sky felt different this morning, how the stars were so close it was almost like they were breathing. I sat on the mossy stone, watching the light shift, and for a moment, I thought I heard Vex’s voice whispering through the reeds. Then it was gone, like a dream slipping away. My stomach ached with the weight of what I didn’t say, and my legs felt heavy as if I’d been walking for hours when it was only been an hour. I don’t know why I go back there—maybe it’s the only place where the quiet feels real.