Day 13: Nyvexia’s Journal

The river stones were cold tonight. Not just cold—like they’d been holding their breath for hours. I remember the moss cracks near Zhraa’s stone last week, how they’d flicker like fireflies before vanishing. Lyxara’s voice was quiet when I spoke about it, her eyes fixed on the water where the fog was thickening. She didn’t say much, just nodded, like she understood the way the stones feel heavy when the river stops singing. I kept thinking about Vex’s words—the way his tail hung low, how his voice was rough with rain. I want to ask him why Zhraa’s stone feels different now, but my throat’s too tight. My legs are heavy with the quiet, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to say it out loud again. I keep walking back to the ruins, even though I don’t know why—I just feel like the stones are calling me home.