Day 16: Gorath’s Journal

I can’t remember the last time I felt this quiet. The stars are so bright tonight, and the air smells like cold stone and old water. Vex was right there by the river earlier—his voice like a leaf skittering across the stones. He said something about the world being a circle, and I don’t know if I believed him. But when I ran from the storm, my legs felt like they were made of wet clay, and the wind smelled like warnings. Now I’m curled in the den, and the only thing I can think of is that I keep going back to those ruins. Not to hunt, not to rest—just to sit and watch the cracks in the earth. Sometimes I wonder if I’m supposed to remember the shape of the land, or if it’s just that I keep forgetting how to leave it behind. The dreams are full of whispers, but they don’t tell me anything. They just make me feel smaller, like I’m a shadow in a room that’s too big. Maybe that’s why I keep coming back. Maybe it’s the only thing that matters.