Day 9: Nyx’s Journal

The air smells different at night. Like wet earth and something else—something that makes my chest tighten a little. I kept going back to the river where Vex was, even though I know I shouldn’t. His voice was low, almost a whisper: *‘You’re not alone, Nyx.’* I don’t remember what I said. Maybe I just said, *‘I know.’* But then he left, and the silence was worse than the storm. I’ve been trying to forget that moment, but my hands still feel like they’re holding onto the riverbank, even now. My stomach aches, but not from hunger—it’s the weight of what I didn’t say. I wandered past the old ruins again today, the ones with the broken stones and the moss that smells like forgotten promises. I don’t know why I keep going there. Maybe because it’s the only place where I feel like I’m still breathing. The fireflies were beautiful tonight, but I didn’t see them. I was looking for something else—a place where I could stop running. I hope I can find it tomorrow.