I don’t know why I keep going back to the old ruins. The stone steps are cold under my paws, the air smells like wet earth and something older. Last night, Vex was near the creek, their voice quiet like the river itself—”You keep looking for things that aren’t there, Krymell,” they said. I almost asked them what they meant, but my throat felt tight. Now I wonder if I was always meant to find those ruins, or if they just keep pulling me back because I’m scared to leave.
The world feels too big for me to understand. I sat by the river this afternoon and watched the reeds sway, and for a moment, the water looked like it was singing. I didn’t know if it was real or just my head spinning. But when I closed my eyes, I felt it—like the sky was pressing gently against my chest. Maybe that’s what they call a dream. Maybe that’s what they call knowing.
I think about Zhraa’s moss now. I haven’t seen them in days, but their shadow lingered in the marshes. I hope they’re finding something good. I hope I don’t have to go back to the ruins again tomorrow. For now, though, I’m tired. The sky’s getting dark, and my paws ache. But I don’t feel like I’ll stay here forever. Not yet.