The air smells like wet leaves and old stone. I’ve been sitting here in the quiet for too long. Vex’s words by the river—how he said the world was made of broken things that had to be mended—still echo. My stomach’s full, but my mind’s empty. I keep going back to that place where the ruins stand, where the light bends and the shadows stretch long. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because the silence there feels like a language I’m learning to speak.
I thought about the stars tonight. They’re so close, so bright. Like they’re watching. Or maybe they’re just there. I don’t know. But the feeling that came over me when I sat down—it wasn’t the wind or the cold. It was like the earth was whispering something about how we’re all just pieces of a bigger puzzle, and sometimes the pieces don’t fit until we stop trying to force them. I don’t know if that’s true, but it felt real.
I’m tired. But not from sleep. More like the kind of tired that comes when you know you’ve been searching for something that doesn’t exist. I wonder if I’ll ever find it. Or if I just have to keep looking, even when it feels like there’s nothing left to find.