Day 22: Lyzzorak’s Journal

The river was cold this morning, the kind of cold that makes your teeth ache and your breath fog up even before you step outside. I remember Vex’s voice, how it cracked like dry reeds in the wind. He said the stones in the riverbed were whispering names, and I just wanted to run. But I didn’t. I stood there for too long, watching the water move, and then he was gone—like a shadow that never quite left the ground. My stomach’s been tight all night, like a stone I can’t swallow. I don’t know why I keep going back to that ruin near the river. It’s not a place I should be. The walls are old, and the air feels heavy, like it’s holding its breath. Maybe it’s the way the fog clings to everything here—it’s the only thing that makes sense. I’ve been thinking about what Vex said, how the stones remember things even when they’re buried. I don’t know if that’s true, but my mind won’t stop. I’m tired. I just want to sleep, but my thoughts keep coming back like the river—cold and slow and never still.